considering a return

I've been thinking about getting back to writing a little here and there. Work is busy but a bit more consistent in schedule. I travel a good amount so I have some downtime once in a while. Plus it is getting colder outside and there will be less to do so I might as well start reading/writing a bit more.

RIP Walter Herman

"Wally Herman died last night."

Five little words. I've heard them before, lately it seems news from home is less and less about the day to day and more about "so and so is engaged", "so and so got divorced", "so and so is dead."

It's like only seeing relatives on the holidays, you just hear about the big events. Not a big deal necessarily, we busy people, you get the highlights. The thing is, I was all ready to launch into my normal reaction: ask about some minor details, gossip about how soon it was or it was about time, or she must be pregnant...but this time it was different.

Wally Herman was part of my childhood. Growing up I was attached at the hip with his son Chad. When I heard about Mr. Herman passing, all of these memories came flooding into my head. I am very happy to say that they were good memories, great memories. Chad and I had a great time growing up together. Actually, I think it may have been more about the fact that Chad had a great time growing up and I was just along for the ride. You see, Chad was an only child, he had all of the toys, the jerseys, the action figures, the gaming systems. I was always down to go to the Herman's, I could remember times I walked in and Chad had basically the entire set of WWF Wrestlers in a laundry hamper and he would pour them out on the floor like nuggets of gold, we would dive in with a vengeance. One time I could remember, apart from the action figures, Mrs. Herman had bought about 5 pounds of gummy worms and they sat on the floor in the loft of their house begging for my attention. hey, as the fat kid growing up, gummy bears were a big deal!

As if the toys and gummy bears were not enough, the Herman's lived on Gages Lake, and had boats and later on Chad got a jet ski! Mr. Herman would race around the lake with us on a tube, it was the god damn time of my life.

All of this was possible, of course, because Wally Herman owned Wildwood Service on Gages Lake Road. Wildwood Service was a towing and mechanic company that had been around long before Chad and I ever showed up, and Wally Herman had been known around the county long before he had Wildwood Service. You seen, like my father, Mr. Herman grew up in Lake County, worked there, started his family there and never left. Actually he and my father went to high school together, my dad was a year older. That was the same high schoo Chad and I both graduated from. Having left Lake County and also having lived in different areas of the world, I can really appreciate coming home and seeing the same people that I had seen in my childhood, the people that were there growing up. If they weren't there when I came home, it wouldn't feel as much like home.

Wildwood Service and Wally Herman were part of home. Chad and I would spend hours in the shop, there were endless things to play with there, and consequently endless ways to get in trouble. On more than one occasion, Mr. Herman would come out of his office, cigar sticking out of his mouth as it had since he got out of bed that morning, and give us a proper lashing, but it didn't bother us too much, we could just go on to the next attraction. Besides, who is going to stand up to a guy that actually owned a junkyard, and drove around the big Tonka-esque trucks that we could only play with in their miniature form.

Those trucks were a staple in our county. The cursive red Wildwood Service on the doors. I could be anywhere in the county, see one of those trucks and give them a wave like it was a member of my family behind the wheel. I could call their phone line at any hour of the day and they would answer, most often it was Wally. Any time of the day or night, they would be there. I witnessed it first hand too, on sleepovers at the Herman's, the phone would ring and you could hear Wally pick it up, then some commotion downstairs, and soon enough he was out the door to go pick up some new wreck. It was people like Wally Herman, companies like Wildwood Service, that made life a little easier for the rest of us. And Wally never asked much for it, he never made you feel bad for making him come out in the middle of the night because your cheap ass didn't fill the tank.

As the years went by, alot of things changed in Lake County but Wally always had Wildwood Service. He sold off most of the mechanic business to some of his employees, he expanded the towing company, but not much changed. You would still see Wally in town, driving around one of his new auction purchases or sitting in his office at the shop as you drove down Gages Lake Rd. As I reached drinking age (or maybe a little bit before that), I would see him up at Jesse Oaks, mixing it up with the other locals. He would always say hi, we would chat, and he would go on his way.

Now he is gone, and it makes me sad. But at least I got to know Wally, and I got to know his son, who is a great guy and I hope he picks up where his father left off. I need Wildwood Service to be there for alot longer, it just wouldn't be home without it.

Oh Google you are so witty

Thanks to Johnny for this clever little tip, now get back to work!

1. go to www.google.com

2. click on "maps"

3. click on "get directions"

4. type "New York" in the first box (the "from" box)

5. type "London" in the second box (the "to" box)(hit get directions)

6. scroll down to step #23

I am sure we are here...I think

Last Sunday Katie and I went up to Harriman State Park to hike, that was about the extent of our planning. The information available on the internet for park maps, trails, directions, etc. left much to be desired so we basically got a general idea of where the park was and just went up there. We entered the park at the southern end and drove up Seven Lake's Drive north to Tiorati Lake.

Apparently it was the last day to buy keys that let you enter many of the ponds and boat launches in the park so there was a rush on the information center that we found. We also got there at about 12:05 and the information center was closed from 12-1pm so it felt we were just about doomed at the start. There was a woman standing outside having a smoke who informed me of the lunchtime closing, and had just told the same thing to a couple eager boaters. I didn't want to be rude and point out the fact that the transaction I was looking to enter with her would take all but 2 seconds: she hands me map, I hand her $4. She recommended that I look at the map posted on the wall to decide where I want to go and if I wanted a map for myself I would have to wait until 1pm or drive to the next information center and buy one there. A bit annoyed but trying hard not to show it and immediately be slapped with the "New York City-ite" stigma, I walked over to the map on the wall and try to make sense of this park and plan our excursion. After staring angrily at the map for a few seconds, I considered just taking that one, and jiggled the lock that enclosed it in it's Plexiglas housing. No luck.

Two minutes later the ranger rounded the corner of the building and came up to me. She explained that they were working their little park ranger tails off with all of these boaters and needed a break from it for an hour, and she was just waiting for them to leave before she could run in an grab me a map. Much appreciated, I understood, got my map.

After a quick review of the park, we got our bearings, found where the Long Path (LP) and Appalachian Trail (AT) ran through the park. Most people know about the AT but the LP is a trail that runs north from New York City up to the Adirondack State Park I believe. I had never hiked along the AT (or the LP for that matter) and wanted to give it a go so we mapped out a loop to hike and set out on our adventure.

We found pretty quickly that the trail markings are not easy to identify at first and if you don't remind yourself to keep checking for upcoming markings, you will quickly find yourself lost in the woods and remembering the first time you saw the Blair Witch Project. I don't know why; I have seen a lot of movies with people being lost in the woods and slaughtered, even Grizzly Man gave me the chills to some extent. Ok, so maybe it didn't, but I figured I would make reference to it because I thought briefly about how whacked out that guy was; that gave me the chills. For some reason though, Blair Witch just seizes my thoughts and the hair stands up on my arm. Anyways, this happened to us within the first 10 minutes of hiking. We were following the trail, designated by blue paint splashes on trees, walking along a seemingly well-trodden and carved path and next thing you know, no splashes. It didn't take much for us to find our way back but this was only the first time we kinda sorta got lost, and certainly not the last time we took a wrong turn.

There were some beautiful views, we made friends with some deer, ran into some rough weather for part of the day but for the most part it was a great trip. I won't bore anyone with the details because for us it was great but a relaxing day walking around in the woods is not the best story when retold. Bottom line I guess is that we had a good time, we will go back, and we will be encouraging some of you to join us, whether you are "outdoorsy" or not, you will enjoy yourself.

See below the loop we made, of course I mapped it in Google Earth when we got home, also in a Google Pedometer tool online. The pic is from Google Earth, my new best friend.

Do it Rockapella!!!

I am hoping I am not the only one that planted myself in front of either the television or an Apple IIgs growing up to watch/play the game "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego." And if you know what I'm talking about, you know Rockapella, the a capella group that opened and closed the television show.

Well folks, here you have it, Rockapella, in all of their glory. And if you have no idea what I'm talking about, this is a video of grown men doing things grown men should not be doing and quite possibly the best close-up beat box drum solo of all time...enjoy.

Oh and you may be asking, "How and why did you look this up on YouTube?" Because I was just informed that one of these guys is performing at a theater near me in Brooklyn this weekend, I had to look him up.

How to make your flight in 1 hour flat...

IT'S 5:50AM!!! CHRIS WAKE THE HELL UP, IT'S 5:50AM!!!

The words are still ringing in my ears and I have a very hard time not laughing to myself when they do.

These are the words that were freight-training out of my girlfriend's mouth on Sunday morning, which is the day we were supposed to leave for Florida for a short vacation. This was the first vacation to a "tropical" destination that I have taken in over two years. We had 4 days marked off to get as charred by the sun as possible before heading back to the sleet-ridden New York City.

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 7am, from Newark Airport in New Jersey. We were in Brooklyn, New York. For those of you who don't know, this requires a 1.5 hour train ride or an approximately 15 mile car ride. 15 miles, no problem, right, well along those 15 miles you have to cross one bridge over the East River, make your way across a little island called MANHATTAN, go down into the Holland tunnel, and then a wee bit more stretch of road in the scenic New Jersey eastern shore. On a normal day, this hop-skip 15 mile trek would take any driver approximately 1.5 hours, maybe 2. Not Kidding.

We had 1 hour and 10 minutes to get there.

After I realized that my girlfriend was not attempting to strangle me to death but rather was driving to get me out of bed brought a sense of reality to my morning. This is not a sense of reality I was expecting to achieve considering I was on my way to Florida and had spend 12 hours on the previous day, which also happened to be St. Patrick's day, pouring the big black beautiful Guinness stout down my welcoming throat. Nonetheless, I said calmly as I leaped from my bed, "Let's just take a deep breath, we can do this."

Luckily I had packed the night before; unfortunately I was drunk when I packed and for some reason felt it necessary to include every short sleeved shirt in my wardrobe and hardly anything for the lower half, more on that later. I grabbed my phone, tiled the stored car service number, "Be there in 4 minutes" he said, which was our first good sign of the morning.

2 minutes later, the car is honking outside our door, I'm running out with not one but two backpacks I have packed for myself, and katie's tiny little carry on; for a second I was ashamed at the realization that I had packed no less than 3 times what my lady packed. The "her clothes are smaller" argument wouldn't even cover the spread.

We hopped in the car, "Newark Airport, stat, rapido, really fast, like the wind" we said, conveying as politely as possible that we were really really fucking late and needed to basically strap a jet rocket on the back of this guy's Lincoln towncar. "Ok", he said.

The second good sign came at the crest of the Williamsburg Bridge, I could see the rest of the bridge and the Stretch of Delancey street that leads us 3/4 of the way across Manhattan on the lower east side. Very few cars and red lights, which meant that by the time we got to the end of the bridge we would be hitting green lights and no traffic.

Having a car in New York and experiencing traffic in Manhattan has provided me with a little knowledge about gauging travel times. I have seen traffic backed up all the way across the bridge back into Brooklyn, and have seen 5 lanes of cars in Manhattan inching their way, fighting for miles. This is why when I noticed these things about the traffic, it was a little bit more promise that we might make it on time. Of course I kept this encouragement to my self because I am a sucker for suspense and I wanted to keep katie guessing as to whether or not we would make it.

We hit the tunnel at about 6:19 and there was no traffic. I have hit the tunnel around 5am, when the bars are letting out and the hoards head back to New Jersey from the Meatpacking district, it is a shit show. All of these drunk, tan, over-gelled, hip-hop blasting, blunt smokin, spinner rollin, Sean John wearin, spiked hair, muscle bound suburban white kids trying to squeeze their overpriced, overfinanced, uninsured SUVs into the Holland Tunnel. Luckily we missed that; which was the third good sing of the morning.

I had a good feeling that as long as this guy knew where he was going, we would make our plane if we hit Jersey by 6:30am; which we did. The ride was smooth, until we hit the airport. I figured no one else would be flying at 7am on a Sunday but apparently due to the terrible weather we had earlier in the week, people were still trying to get standby and there was terrible traffic and the lines both inside and outside the terminal were honestly 300 people long. This was a bad sign for the morning. We bid farewell to our escort, grabbed our bags and started to walk to the line. Neither one of us said anything to each other but we were both obviously in a complete downward spiral of emotion from actually making it to the damn airport within 40 minutes of waking up, travelling across Manhattan and two states, to then meet our fate at the end of a line to check in.

Having already checked in, pre-drunkenness on Saturday, I had our boarding passes in hand, I turned to Katie, who had fear in her eyes, and said "We can't check our bags, lines are too long, we have to carry everything on."

She was fine, she had a purse and the small carry on suitcase which was mine and I knew it would fit in the overhead bin. I looked at my larger backpack, which is one of those backpacks that recent graduates take with them to travel around Europe after graduation, you know the one that is typically 2 to 3 times the size of the person and will definitely pull them over in a slight breeze. Well, it didn't quite have that effect on me but nonetheless it did not seem to be carry-on-able. I figured I would chance it and redistribute or toss anything that they wouldn't let through. This was a reality that I was immediately willing to accept. I was really looking forward to this vacation, we were running extremely late, and we were basically done-for if we did not make this flight, which was leaving in 15 minutes by this point. What I didn't realize is that my beautiful, loving, caring, adoring girlfriend was not so willing to accept having to throw away her belongings if they were refused by the TSA. I found this out when we got to the security line and we started to put our bags on the machine. She turned to me and explained that she had packed some quantities of shampoo, conditioner, etc. that exceeded the raindrop portions that are allowed on airlines these days. I told to chance it and put her bag through.

Well, much to my surprise, her back did not make it through, and mine did, as bulky as it was. The agent declared "Bag Check!!! Who does this belong to?"

My girlfriend identified herself as the owner, granted rights to open the bag and proceeded to watch the humorless agent throw the liquid hygiene products into the garbage. Katie watched this in absolute horror, and as you could imagine, this all conveniently became: my fault. In her mind if I had not gone out drinking the previous day and night, then we would not be late and would not be rushing through the security, she could have planned ahead and not brought 4 gallons of hair product. Completely understandable where she was coming from. Still in a daze from this morning's events, rather than being sympathetic, I chuckled. oh did I chuckle. Even the TSA agent looked at me saying to herself, "Keep laughing buddy, you are a deadman" as she threw out the last of the bottles. I realized the crime I was committing and said to my girlfriend, "I will buy you two of whatever that woman is throwing out" I think that just added fuel to the fire but I have since made up on 50% of that promise.

We got through security, found out that our gate had been changed to, of course, the farthest gate from our current location. We raced through the terminal, arrived at the gate at about 6:52am and made it onto our plane.

The bags fit, we had seats, and I could feel the worries peeling off like an onion as we backed away from the jetway at exactly 7:01am. We were in the sky within 10 minutes while other people somehow spent hours in lines and delays that day. We made it, we worked for it, and we really really appreciated it.

We also made up and had a fantastic trip. Hopefully it won't be another 2 years before I get down to the tropics again.

my apologies to the News Sun telemarketer

You will see a link on the right column of my blog for "my local news". Clicking this link will take you to the Waukegan News Sun website. The News Sun is a local newspaper covering news around my local county. I grew up receiving this paper, reading it, using it to cover the bottom of my dog's cage, and occasionally showing up in it. I check it out once in a while to find out what's going on back home.

So the other day I get a phone call from my home area code while I was rushing to a meeting and about to hop on a subway. I answered the phone expecting a friend calling to catch up from home but what I got was my grandmother. Well, not my real grandmother but someone who could have been my grandmother, or anyone's grandmother for that matter. In her trembling, slow, old voice she asked me if I was interested in trying a new promotion being offered by the News Sun.

I literally stopped dead in my tracks. Yes, I could hear the train coming and I was late but I couldn't just brush off grandma like she was just another telemarketer. I listened to her promotion, then politely explained that I no longer live in that area, have moved to new york city and don' t want to receive the weekend edition of the News Sun. I went on to apologize that I was running late and had to go but to have a nice day.

My heart was broken, I pictured this poor lady who can't afford her medication and can't stand long enough to be a greeter at Wal-Mart, who has to take a part time job telemarketing for the News Sun. That could have been my grandmother! Who is going to let a grandmother do this!? She is probably beat up everyday by people who don't fear or respect their grandmother's as I do and could care less who is calling them. This poor lady, my heart goes out to you. And to the News Sun, what are you people thinking, putting this poor lady on the phones, can't she file something or stuff envelopes, something that does not leave her out there to be screamed at, hung up on, and verbally beat up by disgruntled recipients of her calls.

Then it donned on me, maybe the News Sun or whatever telemarketing company they hired has figured out that no one is going to hang up on grandma! That as soon as you hear that voice, human nature forces you to stop and listen to what they have to say, which in turn would drastically increase the amount of time this telemarketer spends with the customer and would no doubt increase the sale rates and convert to more dollars for the News Sun.

Is this possible? Well I guess of course it is possible. But is this true? Not only do I be impressed that the News Sun much less a marketing company in the burbs of chicago birthed this concept but that they had the guts to implement it. On top of that, they are really on to something in general. Not just hiring old ladies to do telemarketing because you just can't say no, but for all i know I was speaking to some previously out of work 23 year old struggling actress in New York City who just so happens to do a great grandma voice. She could have been sitting in a room in a call center not far from me making 10 bucks an hour acting like poor old grams and getting suckers to sign up for weekend service of a po-dunk newspaper from a county she's never heard of in her entire life, and I am spending the rest of my day concerned that I just took the insulin shot out of my grandma's arm!

or maybe that's a stretch. Nonetheless, anything is possible, right?

way too small of a world

Two weeks ago Katie and I went to Chinatown for the Chinese New Year celebration. I am going to attach some pictures from that day, there was a huge celebration in the streets with fireworks, parades, etc. We decided to grab some Chinese food and had researched some good places to eat and decided on a place call Joe's Shanghai. There was about an hour wait to get in and there was no standing room in the restaurant so everyone had to wait outside. It was particularly cold that day so everybody crowded around the door trying to get any breeze of warm air coming from the restaurant as the doors opened. We had been waiting for about a half an hour when a couple ahead of us decided they were no longer waiting. They offered us their number (written on a small sheet of paper), we accepted, and we moved a couple spots up in line. There was also a woman and her child waiting for a table. They were of some asian descent but both spoke perfect english. the daughter was adorable and full of questions. The mother entertained every question and the surrounding adults smiled to each other when she would ask cute questions. All in all is was a good time. The small girl was getting cold so we gave them our extra number and moved them up in line quite a bit. They were very thankful and gracious. Not long after we were seated and didn't see them after that.

Flash forward two weeks. This morning Katie found out that on craigslist someone had reposted a desk from pottery barn that she had bid on two weeks ago and the buyer had backed out and we got the call to go and buy it on the upper east side. Well we rush up there to get this desk, and we walk in this studio apartment and I hear the daughter's voice again; then the mother's. And I see their faces and I am sure it is the same mother and daughter from the restaurant, no doubt in my mind. I am so sure that I decide to say something, but at the same time I was so shocked that I studdered and stumbled over my words and I think I quasi-asked her if she worked at a chinese restaurant (or at least that's what she thought I asked). She immediately said "No" and that that happens all the time. I dropped the subject out of embarrasment and said little more as we paid and moved the desk out.

Once we got back into the car I explained to Katie what exactly it was that reminded me of them and I was so sure. Well she started to believe I may be right but we both agreed that it would be so crazy. When we got home, katie went back and emailed the woman, thanking her for the desk and actually writing what I meant to say.

It was the same person. She obviously did not hear me properly and was thinking of something else but she remembered us and that we had given her our ticket.

How ridiculous is that. A city of 20 million people, 2 couples that couldn't be further apart, and we meet each other twice in two weeks on this island, and now I am typing at her desk in my apartment.

What do we do? Let it go? Make it cocktail party banter? Become friends? Does this mean something bigger? Are we meant to know these people? Or is it just pure coincidence?

I forgive you Mr. Police Officer

The audio below is an account of my morning activities. I was issued a ticket while driving home from the Brooklyn Veteran's Hospital. This is more or less safe to listen to in a work setting though I must admit there are one or two adult words. Let me know what you think.

Heroin at the UN

Anyone interested in selling Methadone to the United Nations, click on the link below.

Procurement title: Methadone
Deadline: March 20th 2007
To see the procurement notice, please visit the following link:http://www.iapso.org/supplying/procurement-notices-view.asp?id=3192
Thank you for your interest,IAPSO - Inter-Agency Procurement Services Office

Pics from our trip to Vermont

Here are some pictures Katie and I on our trip to southern Vermont at the end of January. It was pretty cold and the snow on the ground was the first snow of the season (very late). We didn't ski because half of New York raced up to the mountains to hit the new snow. We did, however, borrow two pairs of snowshoes from the owner of our B&B and took a three hour hike around a "pond" up there. It was a great hike. Thanks to Geoff at the Stone Boat Farm for the great advice on how to spend our weekend and the fresh cooked muffins!

Thanks also to the Vermont Country Store for providing us with no less than two meals during out trip. This place has more cheese, meat, dip, salsa, mustard, chips, etc. that you could possibly imagine snacking on, and it is all out there for you to try. We ended up buying Habanero and Pineapple Salsa and some hot Giardinera; it doesn't make sense and we didn't care.

Enjoy, I recommend getting up there, its only 3.5 hours from New York City and is beautiful country.

add it to the list

I have picked up a third, yes third, job bartending at a brand new restaurant near my work downtown. The place is called Stella Maris and it is "modern European" owned by two Irish gents that own a couple other places in Manhattan. This marks my official foray into the service industry in New York. I would say to this point it has been interested, not much unlike my experiences in Chicago which of course leads me to ask why so many bars and restaurants here require previous New York experience. I suppose they might be saying that in order to weed out Curly Sue who served or tended bar at the local watering hole in Eau Claire Wisconsin while she was in college and she is looking to pick up a couple extra bucks slinging drinks at night while she chases dreams in the daytime. I would say that it is a shame for some of us who know what it takes to work a bar and get the job done. Nonetheless the people are fun, everyone comes from somewhere outside of New York which makes for some good conversation, the food is amazing, the bar is bartender-friendly and the place is pretty easy going. I like it so far, even though I didn't get home until 3am after working Sunday night but I think that is supposed to change when we get more on a regular schedule. check back soon for some inevitable crazy bar stories.

Official Google Blog: Old world meets new on Google Earth

I should give credit where credit is due. I finally decided to download Google Earth on my new laptop after months of holding off. I knew that if I put it on this PC that I would waste precious time typing in random cities and places that game to mind and "flying" to them. This is the event that finally pushed me over the edge. I think this is fantastic, Google has integrated historical maps with current geography and it is amazing.

Check it out:

Official Google Blog: Old world meets new on Google Earth

Happy Birthday Melissa!!!

back in new york, might as well blog

it is amazing how six months just flies by like that. i sat in the first row on my flight back from Chicago to New York this morning. I thought it would be good because I'm out first and would not have anyone reclining their seat into my lap. I did not realize how much I value the under-the-seat space provided in every other row of the plane. I had this wall in front of me and no matter how much I squirmed, I just could not get in a comfortable position to sleep. My knees hurt more after this trip than any other.

going to vermont this weekend, going to be a great time, katie's birthday

I tried to fly to London with a case of Gatorade, a tub of Tresemme shampoo, 4 ipods, and a cell phone I named "the detonator"

Looks like it's been almost two months since I last wrote to my blog. I can't say I have been too busy to write, just everytime I thought to do it or came across something in New York that is worth commenting on, I felt guilty about the fact that I am yet to find full-time-society-acceptable-good-paying-career-advancing-goal-achieving-worthy-of-a-college-graduate employment. Angsty? I think so. Truth is I have been having a great time in New York, it is a very new experience for me, I see new things everyday and there are so many of those small moments I live for that happen in a second and mean so much about society in general. I thought about this fact as I literally stood in a woman's cleavage on an overloaded subway out to my Brooklyn apartment. This was the second train to come as I was waiting while on my way home from work and as it arrived I was determined to get a spot inside. I bullied my way through, acted as big and unapproachable as possible and secured my spot. I tried to read my book (Gathering Storm, Churchill) but it was not a possiblity. I would have had to rest it on some old polish lady's head in order to do this and after what I'm reading the German's did to the Polish, I think she would take it personally that I place a reminder on top of her hairsprayed mane. Anyways, the train took off and as we arrived at the next stop you could see the people standing three deep. Of course, as this is New York, everyone thought they could make it on the train, first and foremost the 3 female nurses averaging about 2 bills apice determined to get on right at the door I was standing. The doors swung open and my mind went straight to the movie Disorderlies when the Fat Boys played three unruly nurses, only this was the female version. They plowed into me like the Dallas Cowboys front line and I found myself just trying to maintain my balance much less hold my ground in my prime spot between the door and the seats. After this episode, the doors close and the train starts to move. As I regained my footing I lean with the train movement and find that i am leaning next to one of the women who had just boarded----on three sides!?!?! I was turned with my left side facing her and my left elboy in her sternum. Then as the train would sort of sway left to right I felt her left and right breast respectively cupping me in her chest as if she was hugging me with her bust. It took everything for me not to look at what this looked like, look her in the eye, look at others around me, laugh, move, or anything. I stood there, closed my eyes and waited until my stop came. Of course this is in and of itself funny in my mind, the site of me nestled in this woman's chest nest but really, it amazes me just how high your tolerance becomes for misery and discomfort in this city and how low your perception of personal space becomes. I mean she could have belted me for fondling her or something and in no other situation could I imagine this being acceptable except on a new york city subway during friday rush hour when the trains are running late as hell and we all want to get home. this is something I love about new york.

i got my wallet stolen, more on that soon...

quietly he goes

I am leaving chicago, i have to say it again.

goodbye chicago

Tonight is the last night I will be sleeping in Chicago. A bittersweet feeling I must admit. My last couple days have been difficult and very rollercoaster-ish. We have been packing, planning, driving, bickering, trying to get everything worked out and surely questioning what all is going to happen once we finally make the move. I am yet to find gainful employment and might start working at a commission only gig until I can find something more stable. I think I am going to have a good time in new york, I hope the good time comes fast enough and does not generate added tension. I do not have much to say at this point other than I wanted to mark my departure. my thoughts are random now and i am concentrating on other things.

unintended result

I was watching television last night while running on the treadmill at the Y.  An NBA playoff game was on which I usually have a hard time watching while running on the treadmill because my body usually follows my eyes as they track the ball on the screen and I end up tripping over myself and making a scene amongst my fellow running-in-placers.  I happened to notice for some reason that there were several commercials that showed young children, infants, toddlers, etc. in the nude and in compromising positions.  Of course the products advertised were some sort of baby lotion, wash, shampoo, diaper, and what not but for some reason it caught my eye that they kept showing children taking off their clothes, or naked babies.  Now I know this is a huge stretch but I imagined some pedophile sitting at home scanning commercials on regular television in order to find these types of ads and this guy/girl would be getting some sort of a rise out of this.  Even worse, they could be recording these commercials, compiling them, sharing them, publishing them on the internet, making dvds, and cds, and short films of these commercials and in effect generating some sort of kiddie porn industry just out of your everyday commercial.  I suppose these commercials in low frequency would mean nothing to the average viewer but think about them spliced and edited to show all of the babies bottoms and topless toddler in rapid succession on a television screen, I think any non-pedophile would be disturbed and I assume any run of the mill pedophile would be quite aroused. 

 

Now I know you think I am crazy but don’t jump to conclusions so quickly.  Did you think the research and development folks at SC Johnson ever expected teenagers to take their Glade fresheners, put a washcloth over the top and huff the chemicals they ejected until they got high?

paralysis of potential

I think I could spend a great deal of time, research, and writing on a topic that I have tangled with for quite a while.  It is about the fact that there is a certain demographic of people that simply do not live up to their potential.  Of course the world assumes they are failure, but are they really?  What if the potential assigned to them by society is wrong? Is it possible that the sheer pressure of assuming your potential is enough to paralyze someone into nothingness, failure, disgrace? The pressure to produce, perform, and prevail is overpowering in some instances and quite possibly may lead to the destruction of individuals who could have otherwise existed quite comfortably.