Requiem For A Pic

Mira was the first to notice. A few months ago amidst one of the regular lulls in our conversation, she began to poke at my grey patch. She thought my hair was thinning; I assumed she was just trying to provoke me.

But after my next haircut, I started to see it. Fully subscribing to denial, I shelved that knowledge away. That is until about a wek ago. As one of my boys was deciding to be a disruption, he took the time to pause from his climb up a door to notice my situation. "You're going bald you know?" Perfectly stated as he was perched on the handle of the door with a pretty good view of the affected area. In the moment, I even made fun of it, just trying to get the kid off the door.

That night was a whole other story. I patted the front part of my head trying to gauge density and lushness. I'd go back and forth telling myself it was all my imagination or my follicles were completely doomed. With a broad range of inensity, the practice has repeated ever since. Every image of male hair that I have come across has been scrutinized, especially the different patterns that my head might be adapting.And then I thought of all my male cousins on my mom's side and I realized they all had various grades of baldness. And my mom's dad has a bit of the loss too.

Now I have accepted it. My soft curls will disappear eventually. Soon my haircuts will be exclusively low. Eventually I won;t need them at all. When I think of it, its not the worst thing in the world. But damn my vanity still screams "This sucks!" Just as I found a barber that felt like my own and a shop where I felt comfrotable, I also finally decided upon a style I like. Now my trips to the shop will be shorter and less and less frequent.

I will miss it though. We've had good times. There were the mishaps like shsaves too low and hairlines too far bacl. But we had fun too. Dreadlocks were a joyride, initially reckless when the first set didn't take. I will also really miss my grey spot whchhonestly seems like one of the first battlegrounds I'll lose.

I wish it wasn't happening so early. I would have liked to have had at least a more stable career and developing a nice middle age paunch before my hair decided to recede. It also would have been nice to be in a committed relationship with a woman who remembered me with a nice flowing mane and could playfully chide me on its disappearance.Now I consider all the options my appearance might take since I still need to attract that lady, who may chide me on the way to that long lasting relationship.

Such is life. I plan on enjoying my lustrous days for however long they last. hopefully it is long enough for someone to fall in love with me, on the inside.

Update - 12/20/07 09:56: Okay so I just got a haircut and I guess the reports of retreat might have ben grossly exaggerated. it is leaving though. Just not as quick as I first thought

Cot Damn

Normally I am not awake this early but a couple of minutes ago, I was alert enough to hear my cell phone receive a fresh new text. I checked it out, assuming an errant network or an individual with little cognizance for time was to blame. But it was actually a text from Mocha reminding me about our rent. Then I remembered that he was up shopping just like he said it would.

I left my bed completely when I realized I would have to relieve myself if I had any chance of going to bed again. When I left my room, I saw that the hallway light was on. I thought someone just left it on last night and I was about to turn it off when it clicked that Banana's door was wide open. For a quick moment, I thought all those fundamentalist Christians were right and the rapture had taken place. Then I got upset trying to figure out how my roommates were more holy than me. Then it hit me that the only rapture that took them was Black Friday shopping. 

I grew up largely shielded from this amazing frenzy. New York City has only recently begun to be inhabited by the big box stores where these sales are the most prevalent. Sure, the department stores had similar blow outs, but we focused more on the fact that there would be a sale all day. We were sensible about our bargaining. No need in waking up extra early on a day off. But the clamor for half price laptops and cheap toasters hammers out all that logic.

I do admire the dedication of these people. Thinking about it, their single collective expenditure could boost the dollar. But the phenomenon still escapes me. Rushing about pre-dawn to buy stuff at any price just doesn't seem worth it. Especially nowadays when the websites for these companies happen to have some of the same deals online from midnight. I won't knock it though. It is nice to see that there is still something that gets everyone motivated on a large scale. Sadly it's only disaster or consumption that gets us moving.

I also must amend my earlier assertion that Halloween is the new American holiday. It is clear that Thanksgiving is nationally recognized. For one, the routine has remain unchanged: Day off, family relations, big meal, football related activities, rest, black friday. And commercialism couldn't corrupt it like Christmas or Halloween. The main elements of Thanksgiving are untouchable by corporations. The only thing you have to buy is food and transportation to see your family. No presents or costumes. And everybody loves the day off, the exorbitant meal, and the possibly awkward hug from that weird uncle and the too long kiss from grandma.

Anyway, I'm going back to bed. That's my holiday tradition.

AT & T

I work in Massachusetts but I also have family in New York. I also suffer from a nagging Peter Pan complex so I spend substantial time in Neverland. And the prospects of our yet to be determined presidential election are so harrowing, I might run away to Anywhere but America. So I need a phone that works in all those places. A place I call NEWNEVERMASSYWHERE

Where's The Director & The Call From The Guild

I often have the tendency to frame the events of my life into stereotypical frameworks found in common plotlines in television and film. Part of my issues come from the fact that I am waiting for some grand moment to occur so I recognize the cue to move on with life. Sooner or later, I expected the sun to shine in one specific spot or to hear angels sing for my one eureka moment. Thank God I realized I just need to make things happen for myself and that my life is not some foundation for a Sundance film entry.

Just as I am discarding that dangerous outlook, life keeps trying to convince me that my original way of thinking wasn't that far off. My father's outburst of emotion was just the beginning of the latest installment. I finally got to see my sister after a couple of months in absentia only to learn that just that afternoon good ol' dad had sent her an e-mail about her being "ambivalent". Why the hell should she be taking the impetus upon herself to talk with the man who abandoned her for most of her formative years? And wants us all to have dinner together? What?!?!?!?!? If the writers decide to strike the rumors state, maybe I can offer some per diem work to one or two and they can write me something more manageable.

If that wasn't surreal enough, my sister's mom called while I was there and asked to speak to me. I've been in this woman's company no more than a dozen times and I can't remember any of them except for one time in her house in Florida. This is the woman who asked my father to break up his marriage. And after 26 years she wants to talk to me. And of course, with the script, she made the most sense. It was a surreal conversation, but somehow cathartic for both of us. I shared the perspectives on Dad that I don't think my Mom could handle or is even aware of since my sister has given me privileged information. And she gave me a mandate to help my sister and dad to reconcile to some happy medium. In all the momentum of craziness, I totally took it on.

These are the times I wish I had more drama in my life as I was growing up then it wouldn't seem so weird. Some people just seem to roll with the punches but they all had some abnormal part of my life. I had the archetypal good upbringing. Both parents, regular church attendance. Except for some financial issues and one or two health scares, nothing really monumental really rocked me growing up. Now all this stuff is happening. I know it's not all deep. I'm lucky I lived life and know some skills to try to guide me through the situation. It still doesn't mean I can't be stunned about the whole ordeal.

I just wish this drama was catered sometimes

Bottled Up

After an absentee week that lead to a drop in productivity, I finally picked my arse up and went to New York. I figured Massachusetts had caught me in a spell so I forced myself to wake up early. I really almost didn't go again, but I did not want to break a promise to my mother. And my vanity pushed me further since it was my last time to get a haircut before my new job.

So today has been building steam. I did get that haircut and shave (before and after for your consideration), did a bit of shopping, and watched the decent American Gangster. And I made plans to drop in and hang with my sister, so I'm rather cheery even though the gray followed me to the city.

So I stop home to drop off stuff and run errands before seeing my sister, and I say hi to my dad who is doing chores in the house before Sabbath. Then I hear him call me and when I go, he opens his arms for a hug. We embrace, and he begins to cry. I couldn't believe it. Totally unprovoked. But it was only the beginning of a minor explosion of emotions. Fears of my prospects, hurt over my secrecy in my relations with my sister, jealousy over my relationship with my mom, just everything came tumbling out. I'm really glad I am having a good day.

Instead of railing into him, I kind of went into a therapeutic mode I normally only occupy at work. And I spoke of my grad school plans, explained my discretion, promised improved father-son relations and let him know everything was alright. But if I was in doubt before, it is crystal clear that the man is broken.

In the introduction to my initial blog, I mentioned that my objectie in life was not to be my father, hoping to avoid confusion and tunnel vision. I still have the same desire not to share his destiny, but now it is just because he is so utterly unhappy. I never want to be that sad. It is absolutely poisonous. For the last four years, I've watched it accelerate his death. I just can't go out like that.

Fall Back

Thank you Daylight Savings Time. With the extra hour of sleep you afforded me, combined with my previous 72 hours of prevalent idleness, I had the required energy to have an amazing day. I haven't written one of my Sunday appreciations in a while, because, well, I hadn't been appreciating them. Starting in the early summer, I began to get sent to different houses to either pass meds, supervise shifts, or both. For the past couple of weeks, I've been in the program that houses the oldest boys.

An assignment I initially dreaded has become mildly enjoyable. If this was my last week there, I ended on a high note. There were only three boys in the house, and two technically don't have to be eyes-on monitored in the house. Throughout the day, the three staff were high energy and the kids were too. It was a ball all day.

While Wolf Fighter, who was running shift, took one boy bowling, another staff and I took a couple kids to a Magic game tournament. On the way in I got to arouse my inner nerd and had discussions on computers, history, and religion. The tournament was held in a comic book store, which also had old vinyls. I found soundtracks to classic movies I owned but abstained from spending my meager funds on them right then. I figure the geeks that patronize the shop are not concerned with the soundtrack to "Anatomy of a Murder." Then we had lunch at an awesome place down the block and I didn't have to pay for it.

The Patriots also won in convincing fashion, this time from being down. All of the staff were engrossed in it. The other staff tackled my leg while I was on the phone with the nurse, informing him about our diabetic client's high blood sugar. This is how loose we got. Not to mention the jovial connection with the kids.

Plus, I didn't have to do what Mocha had to. That was back at my home program and the smell was atrocious.

Best part of the day: absolutely no issues. Nothing. If it wasn't for the meds, I would have thought it was a normal day at a boarding school.

The Disc Is Skipping

One of the benefits of having a friend like Nitro is the mental stimulation that she offers. Our friends are commonly seen as people we turn to when we want to relax and indulge ourselves. But its nice to have thhoughtful conversationalist amongst your fold somewhere, even if it isn't a friend. Luckily Nitro is mine and she is a friend.

She sent me this article earlier this week, but I really only got a chance to properly read it today (Thanks to New York Times abolishing the archive fee, you can read it any day too). For those who don't want to do the legwork and click-through, a brief synopsis: the author draws comparisons to the post French Revolution Jacobins to today's conservative politicians. After the Revolution, the Jacobins decided that you were either for liberty or against it. And a militant branch arose that decided to ironically destroy anyone who opposed liberty. When the pro-war faction wanted to war against other European powers, it was a fledgling United States that refused to aid and abet the French.

And more than two centuries later, another well orchestrated group has decided that liberty is in danger and the despots and tyrants who threaten it are vile threats that should be readicated. This time it is the French who don't want to assist. Oh how times have changed. Or rather, they really haven't. One of the French brave enough in the 18th century to speak against the Jacobins referred to the idea as being "armed missionaries." How effective can your message be if it is being taught with weapons?

Where's Napolean when you need him?

The New American Holiday

Last night, as I shepherded my boys around for trick or treating, it occurred to me that Halloween might be the new national holiday. Earlier in the shift, one of our struggling boys wailed that we couldn't take away Halloween. This was after I told him that since he refused group therapy, he couldn't participate. He ended up going cause he turned it around so quickly, but I think a prime factor in determining his approval was the reverence he held for the holiday. He was emphatic about its importance.

And even though the local houses seemed a bit more subdued than recent years, the disparity in families and ages of those involved contributed to my thoughts. Families traveled in packs, including even infants and toddlers. The seniors took part too with intricately packaged treats.

Then Posh texted a lewd message that was inspired by some of the costumes she viewed on her way home from class. Even my age group gets into it. Co-workers dressed up and my peers seemed to lament the odd Wednesday placement of the holiday. It inhibited their partying. It is the one day of the year where it seems socially acceptable for woman to be as close to naked as possible, as long as they are wearing a sexy facsimile of an everyday outfit. For a couple of crazy nights, an indulgence of nurses, French maids, and schoolgirls survey the nightlife, and its all perfectly fine. People lament over their costume choices the way they once did over their Christmas gift choices.

And what of Christmas? This was the dominant holiday in my formative years. Each year, everyone watched the Grinch and participated in Secret Santa office pools. But commercialization has overtaken Christmas. Now "Merry Christmas" has been absorbed by "Happy Holidays" and it seems its never too early to get your Christmas shopping out of the way.

Posh says that Thanksgiving is still the dominant holiday. I can see her point. But that seems like the most agreed upon four day weekend. A time to see family, have awkward relations, then heal wounds by battling bargain hunters in the wee hours of the morning. I feel like Halloween still motivates people to go more out of there way. Thanksgiving involves some extra food. Halloween seems to actually encourage activity.

Either way, its still interesting to see how into it people get. I'm glad for the candy.

Results

This morning I awoke with a dilemma. I have done somewhat haphazard preparation for the LSAT, a test I deemed necessary to heighten my chances of favorable grad school matriculation. But there were logical reasons not to take it. I had just taken it last year, and that score was respectable. It was lower than my original, and even the original seemed like a valid test score in my preliminary research. But I am stubborn. I just knew if I just did the studying, I could test amazingly high. But what if I just had an off day and blew it? Then what?

It seemed the signs were telling me no. My advisor had advised against it in her first response. And just as I initially prayed for clarity, Posh let me know she felt the same way. I had just taken it. And she said her score was valid, and I had taken my original around the same time. Finally I decided on a sign to not take the test: if I had to initiate a restraint that required pink paperwork, I could not take the test. Our largest client (300 pounds) had an issue. He beat and kicked me to the point where I believe my shins are truuly shedding tears. But he was on the floor, and legally I could not put him in that special type of restraint. But then he did get in a position, and I would have been foolish to be that stubborn and hurt us both. I did the hold.

I channeled my stubbornness by testing my faith. One more sign to confirm the first one, like a modern day Gideon. If I get a text message by 8:00 p.m., then You want me to take the test. My inbox was free at 8:11 p.m. I am so not taking that test.

I might be cited as silly and superstitious. But I'm just a believer. I need to read more and truly get a true grasp of what I believe. But I believe in Him. And I love Him.

The Wonderful World of Work

Yesterday, me and Mocha were bamboozled into believing my temporary assignment at the older boys' program was through. Sadly about 45 minutes in, we learned the sad truth that it was not. Once I found out that news, I figured I probably would be headed there today.

But before all that, I had to go to a training in place of one that had been cancelled on Thursday. So 10 hours in the midst of the organization. And it is Monday.

But it wasn't too bad. Training was quick and their were bagels and Sunny D. I even had good conversation with one of my superiors, who I thought hated me. But it also bothered me that we don't get along better cause it seems we like a lot of the same things. And this isn't a crush thing cause I know she's a lesbian. Maybe I just want everyone to like me.

Anyway after a brief stop at the supermarket, I made the call to my program director to figure out why wee were bamboozled. He wasn't there but I was proud of the message I left. I didn't back down. And he called right back and confirmed my departure. And confirmed next week as well, but then it should be over. We'll see.

But I realize that I cannot change these things so I shouldn't really too aggravated about it. I had my chances to make moves more quickly and not be in this position. I still could quit and find another gig in New York or even be brave and move away to DC or something. But I accept my position. I actually kind of like it. Interacting with different sets of kids can be energizing. I learned about Dungeons & Dragons and played a silly barely instructional game of basketball. I even got the chance to say goodbye to one of my favorites since they may have bumped his date of departure up a little more.

All in all, not such a bad day. I still need to make sure I get the hell out of there though. I'm needing more distractions to keep myself energized and motivated. That's a bit troubling. And Mocha informed me that tomorrow might be a maelstrom since one very aggressive boy is finding out some very disappointing news. And who usually draws him as an assignment? Yours truly.

I think I will sleep now and hope by the time I wake up, I won't be dreadful.

Where Amazing Happens

There was a time where I followed professional basketball like it was my religion. High holy days included Draft Day in June, which I actually watched in entirety, laughing as I saw the newly rich in awkward technicolor suits. Raised on CBS, my formative years with NBC, every SUnday from about January to June was filled with basketball. When I was older, I watched the cable broadcasts during the weeks, even enduring local Knicks broadcasts when the competition was up to it. All Star weekend was my holiday. The only time my attention eaned was to follow college basketball. But that only reinforced the love cause I was even more familiar with the players.

But things change. There has been a lull in the entertainment value lately. After Jordan left, the only brief blip of excitement has been the Shaq Kobe mini dynasty The poor NBA was hoping hat Lebron could deliver them, but his team failed him and even that failed to jump off. In its descent, football has asserted itself as king of the landscape. Even baseball has weathered scandal to be America's past time again. But basketball has seen poor gameplay and poor off court decisions bring it to the border of irrelevance. It is still number 3 but not because it has earned it. It just fell back there. NASCAR seems to generate more excitement, if not the money. But soon they'll exploit that. Whites and Southerners love it. It will make money soon.

But tonight I was captivated by two preseason games. In one, the Celtics showed off their off season acquistions and it was beautiful to watch again. Kevin Garnett distributed the ball to an active Paul Pierce and the sweet shooting Ray Allen. Even Rajon Rondo, with his lanky body and quick step, was a pleasure to watch. It was all so fluid and reminded me of the basketball I watched when I was younger.

So I decided to rededicate myself to all things basketball. Though I have been baptized into football, even college, I have a sports lull in the middle of the week and basketball could be the perfect fix. I still know the level of play could be upped but these young guys give me hope. It should be a fun season.

Titans of Industry

Undeniable is currently finishing up her time at boot camp to become a corrections officer in the prison system. God bless her and the 150 other recruits doing the same thing. But as she was alternating between scary stories of prisoners and disheartening tales of some of her dullard classmates, she informed me that the prisoners were responsible for manufacturing the furniture in college dorms and residential facilities like the one that employs me.

In another lockdown facility, they even have an eye lab that makes glasses that some of my kids where. I used to just ignore the rhymes about the prison industry complex that populate the more conscious of my rap choices. But Undeniable's experience shows just how prevalent it is.

Then I thought about how lucrative it is. In exchange for giving criminals some alternative to a completely banal experience, the state gets cheap labor to make goods that they profit from. Now I understand why there are so many conspiracies as to why the American prison population is so large, and why minorities are overrepresented on the inside.

But really I'm just a little bothered. Actually more than a little. Isn't it wrong for the state to profit from its failures, especially when they are human and cannot speak for themselves?

Just What The Doctor Ordered

Even after my excursion with Nitro and a fun morning jaunt through my neighborhood that resulted in a free picture frame and poster, the Sabbath day was mostly a malaise for me. I woke up with the intentions of going to church, although it was begrudgingly. But then I recalled we are advanced technologically and watched the whole service on the internet. I was distracted and the message didn't really get to me. I sat through a mostly pleasant meal with my parents, though I saw anger in my dad's voice at the slightest provocation. That man is not happy. And I even got my tickets to the Patriots-Giants game I coveted for my birthday. Still no joy.

Even my concert didn't seem so important. I chose to eschew the door opening time and took my time. I figured even if they stuck with the schedule, I wouldn't be missing much. At this point seeing Little Brother was enough. The bonus venues that were part of the city wide CMJ Music Marathon weren't that important.

But something happened when I stepped outside my house. My iPod delivered a banger and I had to move. I got to the train station just in time to catch mine. The great shuffle continued and I walked into the venue pretty charged.

$7 beer in hand, I found myself more assertive than usual. Usually I move as close as I can and then stop. But this time I saw my holes and pushed forward. By the end of the night I was only about 5 people between me and the stage. The opening acts rocked it. Evidence was energetic. Brother Ali converted me to fanhood. And even the interludes by the DJs were great, and better they were short. Right after the last interlude, Little Brother came on stage and killed it. And my positioning was crucial since I jumped up and caught the jacket Phonte threw off stage.

And then I timed it perfectly to have Tiombe Lockhart shake her ass on me when I booked it to one of those other venues.

What a beautiful night.

God moves in mysterious ways.

Carnegie '16

In my single digit years, probably around 8 or 9, I remember an instance after a church service where I told some adult that I wanted to be the first black president of the United States. I'm not sure what type of prescience I had at that point to predict that the spot would still be open by the time I was of age, but so far so good. And as much as I love Senator Obama, I doubt it will happen this time around. But Socrates somehow has always seemed to hold my potential in higher esteem than I have. He regularly refers to me as underachieving. This week he even alluded that I could have had a path similar to that of Mr. Obama.

It got me to thinking what happened to all those dreams. In New Haven, they must have got washed away with all my disillusionment cause that's the last distinct time I really felt like making a plan and definitively sticking with it. But Posh inspired me this week by sharing her her three different 5-year plans for life. Now I'm thinking I should have a 9-year plan to put me in position to make a run for the presidency. The greater goal is just self-actualization because sadly I am not a mason so my chances for the presidency must be nil.

In 9 years, this is what I would like:
- Financial solvency. The debt is there and I will incur more with grad school. But there's no reason it can't be managed. And there's also no reason that I can't be responsible for setting up my future.
- Ownership of property. Condo, house, something. With more in the future.
- Professional satisfaction. It seems established that I will be in some sort of profession that lets me exercise my altruistic spirit. I might stray for a bit. Cash is cash. But ultimately I want to make a lasting positive impact on this world.
- A family. I want a wife. I want kids. I want a dog. Simple.
- Amazing health. There is no reason I should be out of shape

So how do I go about this? For one, these applications need to be done by early December at the latest. And by mid-December, I need to have a license. I need to surround myself with the knowledge to accomplish this. I got a Suze Orman book for the financial part. And next year I need to be in grad school. I've started to actually follow a bit of an exercise plan.

But all this really needs is discipline, something that's been mostly absent in my tenure here on earth. I'm getting better at it though.

My advisor shared this with me when I finally got off my patoot and e-mailed her: "Remember movement only takes one step at a time."

One step, one step.

It Looks Like A Beautiful Morning

I woke up with the idea of going to church, but I wasn't exactly feeling the pull. I still was planning on going, but then I remembered that we are one of those technology forward churches and our service is online. Free of guilt and totally comfortable.

That revelation surely helped my disposition. With that knowledge, I ventured on a jaunt through my neighborhood. In the house, I was faithful and kept it with the gospel I am slowly rediscovering. On the walk, I fell to temptation and listened to my song of the week. And joy springs eternal.

Everyone seemed in a chipper mood. After such a messy day yesterday, the most appealing characteristics of autumn became evident. Young couples ferried around their children in bliss. Fathers actually spent time with their kids and lovingly interacted. At one point I expected one of those birds from Cinderella to sit upon my shoulder and start humming the hypnotic hook I had on repeat.

And I picked up a free poster and photo frame from the framing place that decided to be nice to its neighbors today. Plus I got an awesome card for my mom's upcoming birthday. There's no point to all this, but I figure after such a maudlin day yesterday, I should document my happiness.

Nitro Returns

The day had been a continuous state of malaise. What better way to break it up than a visit with Nitro. It had been close to a year since our last get together. That had to be a new record since we started doing these meet ups. But life got in the way and I stopped using AOL Instant Messenger, which was our primary communication.

Tonight we met up to see "3:10 to Yuma", which was unexpectedly crowded. And after it was all done, guru and disciple were back in concert again. I've realized that we must be a really peculiar sight even on the streets of New York. Tall African-American speaking intently with a sub 5 foot South Asian American. I chuckle now when I see the stares of African-American women assuming that this is a date and mentally downgrading their options once again. If only they were privy to the conversations.

After the movie, we ambled around the Village looking for a suitable establishment to sit and converse, but the Village is fullof hot spots and not exactly conversation points. Worse off, since it was Friday, they were all packed and loud. Somehow me and Nitro just have that ond. As we walked, the conversation was just as loose and comfortable as ever. We caught up on her new position. I got to sound engaging as I shared funny anecdotes that were the source of my new confidence. And of course as usual we had awesome food while slipping in funny observations of our fellow patrons.

(The date to our side was kind of disastrous. He constantly fiddled with his phone when devoid of conversation. And when he did offer conversation, it was so obscure and childish. You had to feel for the guy)

Nitro's reappearance helped me remember how nice it is to have adult conversation that is not work or relationship related. It's so easy to get caught in the minutiae of every day life. The afflicted of the quarterlife crisis must also contend with worrying about every aspect of their future. And though we touched on those topics tonight, it didn't seem half as serious as it sounds after hours of resounding off the sound chamber that is my brain. I need to do it more often.

Plus dessert was delicious.

Happily Depressed

I woke up today without any sort of impetus to do the things I had planned. For one, I planned to go running in the morning, but I did everything but throw my alarm against the wall and stayed in bed. Then I was even tempted to skip the mandatory pre-licensing course I had finally decided to take. But what else was I going to do today? So I actually did that by calling on my new playing hurt philosophy.


And the course is done and I had a somewhat entertaining teacher to guide me through the tedium. But then I went for my usual jaunt through the city and the pavement did not exactly provide the lift that it usually does. I ambled in and out of stores at SoHo barely impressed and hardly looking. I wasn't even interested in people watching like usual.


I could easily blame the ugliness that the rain brought, but I think the discontent has been brewing for a while. I'm actually starting to tire of my job. I don't like where I am in life period. But I'm also starting to realize that I am just different. My fascination with sociology and the trends and categories slowly bled into my thinking. For some reason, I keep trying to find the archetype to which I fit and each time I come up empty, I get discouraged.

Forget all that though. I'm just me. I have to start operating like that. I have Ivy-league educated peers doing things with their life. Fine. Others are perpetually in school and accumulating wealth. Fine. That's just not me. I am closing in on 26 and have no idea who I am though. And it's time I finally started to define that. It's time to honestly acknowledge my strengths and deficiencies. It's time I figure out what it is I want. The nonchalance that has been my trademark needs to disappear. I want to be fiery. I want to be passionate.

It's time to act on all that bloody potential I have been too scared to mine.

I'm going running.

Old School

Today, I dragged myself out of bed and walked the three blocks to the driving school that has always been there. I had finally decided to get tthe 5 hour course that all of us New Yorkers have to take out the way so I could take the road test and drive out of Neverland. For some reason I still wasn't all that motivated to go. Dreary day. Five hours listening to mostly common sense stuff.

It was made bearable by the instructor. A silver haired man who spouted New Yorker as soon as he opened his mouth. Almost immediately, he revealed that he had grown up in the Bronx. Just the rhythm and cadence of his speech, and even the content, had me convinced that we had an old school cat on our hands. The way he dressed conFrom the nehru blazer to the sensible shoes, I wondered how New York stopped producing this specimen. In his time, it was obvious that people placed a premium on being informed. I find that people with the most basic of educations from that time have a thirst for knowledge that surpasses those who get graduate degrees today. Throughout his lessons and admonitions against drunk driving, he pepered in tales of his own excursions.

I must say at times I was a little spelbound by his presentation. Though he worked with one of the most mundane subjects, he was active and colorful. A diverse group of license offenders and bright eyed kids, he had us all tuned in when the recipe said we should have tuned out. But people from that time all seem to possess a at least a modicum of that charm. Honestly, things seemed simpler then. The attitude seemed simpler. Just the approach to life was simpler.

I am displaced.

Good Grief

For the past three days, Mira has been texting me pretty consistently about work matters. I think its her own way of dealing with grief. On Sunday, she learned her father passed away. I am a sensitive boy. Church made funerals seem very important. Even when people passed away that I was totally unconscious of, I always held a special reverence for their lives.

Of course, I naturally want to comfort, but it is very apparent that Mira does not want to delve into a touchy feely conversation. And that's how she deals with it. I realize I am privileged to even receive text messages, since her best friend informed me that Mira was only communicating to her. And in her own way she deals with it.

On the other end, the matriarch of our family friends passed away last week. Her granddaughter had repeated breakdowns over the weekend and found sleep at aberrant hours. At the burial site, she broke down to the point she was on the floor asking to be buried with her grandmother.

Two different types of responses to stressful times, both appropriate in their own way. I wonder how I'll react when it happens to me.