Pink Floyd is playing in my head.
"Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day...fritter and waste the hours in an offhand waaaaay"
Ever feel like you are just idling? Biding time? If this were a movie, I'd be hoping for a blurry fade out or montage or some other device that would fast forward time and move stuff along.
But then, what is life if not to be lived? And appreciated? Even these quiet moments. Even these pensive moments - these little lulls that seem pretty great when the shit is hitting the fan. Enjoy the silence.
So let's see - what's going on...
Vacation was good. Clarisa's brother flew in to spend the week with us and help out with our place. While the contractors really took care of the bigger repairs, it was great to have him around to swiftly handle a few honey-do's that have been on my list. Plus he's just a great guy and I like having him around. Aside from house renovations we managed to see a Yankee game (the one last Friday where Wang pitched in the rain and gotten taken deep by phenom Grady Sizemore on the very first pitch of the game), take a trip to Brooklyn to see Auntie Joan and take a trip up to Poughkeepsie and Hyde Park to hang out with friends and family. All in all a good vacation.
Still, next time I go on vacation I really want an R&R vacation somewhere fun. Friends and family are welcome to come along - I just want to be out of NY when it happens. Some hotel off of Horseshoe Bay in Bermuda might be nice.
Work is on the upswing. I have a new immediate boss whom I have a good relationship with. He gets what I want to do and wants to help me do it. In turn, I really want to help turn the department around and get a few good quantifiable projects done. For one thing, I want to run a few usability studies. I also want to get my hands on some of the Mercury testing tools. Ultimately, I would like to get a usability department started at iVillage - with me heading it up of course. We'll see where it goes. I have some people that have my back on it. It's just that it's tough to overcome organizational inertia. If we manage to complete and act on a study and we get great results like increased traffic and longer video views, more article views etc -- it will be a lot easier to argue for an increased role for usability. Like anything - the first break is the hardest to get. I hope to impress if I get the chance.
Naturally, me being me, I spent some time this weekend researching Usability Engineering / HCI (Human Computer Interaction) MS programs. It turns out that all of the heavy hitter major tech universities have it - Stamford, MIT, RPI etc. but they are far away and there is this whole thing about me living and working here in the NYC metro area that kind of gets in the way of that. Plus, lets face it, getting into Stamford, MIT or RPI is not exactly a guarantee, even if I lived around the corner. Still, no local schools have it. Not NYU, Columbia, Fordham, Pratt, Pace, Parsons, Cooper Union - nada. The closest programs are ones at NJIT and at RPI.
One interesting thing I did find was a ton of QA jobs in Atlanta. Lots of usability jobs too. Housing is very affordable down there. And... Georgia Tech offers an M.S. in HCI and is ass cheap if you are a resident. Long term, that might be a plan - get a job and place in Hotlanta, go to Georgia Tech for my MS in HCI and work in a burgeoning field that I'm interested in and even matches up decently with my personality and interest inventory tests. I'd love to sell our place and be able to take that money and actually purchase a house house and down there, you still can.
One last thing - it's 2am here and that means Lance Armstrong is probably up and eating breakfast and getting ready for his Sunday Ride in the Pyrenees.
Sunday's stage from Lézat-sur-Lèze to Saint-Lary Soulan, is 205 kilometers (127.4 miles) and will cover six mountaintops. Portet d'Aspet, the first climb, is considered a second-category climb in terms of length, steepness and difficulty. The peaks that follow, Menté, Portillon, Peyresourde and Val Louron-Azet, are all ranked first category. The stage ends with a climb to Pla d'Adet, which is above the town of Saint-Lary Soulan. Pla d'Adet is the backbreaker, especially after the first five. It is a climb of 10.7 kilometers (6.6 miles) at a grade of 7.6 percent. It is beyond a category rating.
"Tomorrow's no cakewalk," Armstrong said. "It's the queen stage, the hardest day in the Tour."
I'm thinking, it may be the queen stage, but Lance is King of the mountains and is going to make the Peloton his bitch for the day. Bring the pain Lance. We're rooting for you!
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Tears - Rain - A flood
I forgot to mention one other thing about Jenn. The medical examiner found a pulmonary embolism as well. It was not infarcted, which I guess means that it had not caused an artery in her lung to burst. Still - her girlfriend who found her said that there was blood in her lungs. As with a lot of things about Jenn and her death, it's unclear.
Still though, I can't imagine something like a pulmonary embolism not hurting tremendously. Add the pain of a degenerative back condition where your disks are crumbling to that and the confusion that a drug like Amantadine brings on and it starts to make sense why she might have reached for the painkillers.
Last Weds. we headed up to Poughkeepsie for the ceremony for Jenn. My step-sister, parents and a few friends of the family were there and I started to weep as I got out of the car and walked toward her headstone. Seeing her name there on the black granitewas a bit surreal and for a second I was taken back to October 18th, 2004 when we buried her. I'd been there before, but not with family and not with family gathering around the same way they had those months ago.
Father Rock, a Fransiscan priest who's a good friend to the family came to say some kind words about Jenn and to lead us through a few prayers. As he went along, it started to rain and he said it was a blessing. Maybe it was. The strange opening in the clouds right above us sure seemed to indicate it. Above us and a bit to the east was a bright blue eye with light streaming out of it that disappeared when Father Rock finished up.
After the ceremony we went to St. Andrew's Cafe at the CIA and had a bite to eat at the place Jenn loved most. It drizzled a bit, but nothing too bad.
Down in Westchester it was a different story...
It rained a bit up in Dutchess, but it POURED around Westchester. I think five inches of rain fell in just a few hours. The SawMill River flooded and roads got shut down everywhere. Anywhere there was a road with River in the name, there was a flood. That means the Sawmill River Parkway, The Hutchinson River Parkway and the Bronx River Parkway. To get home we had to drive through a section of the Saw Mill Parkway where the water was as high as the doors of our Santa Fe. We saw some other trucks blasting through -- so we did too. But just for one moment there I thought we lost traction and were actually floating. Drifting down into a swollen SawMill River would have turned a bittersweet / downer of a day into a Mongolian Clusterfuck of a day. As Clarisa might tell you a Mongolian clusterfuck is just like a regular clusterfuck except that it's a clusterfuck without hope.Yet here we are. Mongolian clusterfuck avoided. Score one for us.
Still though, I can't imagine something like a pulmonary embolism not hurting tremendously. Add the pain of a degenerative back condition where your disks are crumbling to that and the confusion that a drug like Amantadine brings on and it starts to make sense why she might have reached for the painkillers.
Last Weds. we headed up to Poughkeepsie for the ceremony for Jenn. My step-sister, parents and a few friends of the family were there and I started to weep as I got out of the car and walked toward her headstone. Seeing her name there on the black granitewas a bit surreal and for a second I was taken back to October 18th, 2004 when we buried her. I'd been there before, but not with family and not with family gathering around the same way they had those months ago.
Father Rock, a Fransiscan priest who's a good friend to the family came to say some kind words about Jenn and to lead us through a few prayers. As he went along, it started to rain and he said it was a blessing. Maybe it was. The strange opening in the clouds right above us sure seemed to indicate it. Above us and a bit to the east was a bright blue eye with light streaming out of it that disappeared when Father Rock finished up.
After the ceremony we went to St. Andrew's Cafe at the CIA and had a bite to eat at the place Jenn loved most. It drizzled a bit, but nothing too bad.
Down in Westchester it was a different story...
It rained a bit up in Dutchess, but it POURED around Westchester. I think five inches of rain fell in just a few hours. The SawMill River flooded and roads got shut down everywhere. Anywhere there was a road with River in the name, there was a flood. That means the Sawmill River Parkway, The Hutchinson River Parkway and the Bronx River Parkway. To get home we had to drive through a section of the Saw Mill Parkway where the water was as high as the doors of our Santa Fe. We saw some other trucks blasting through -- so we did too. But just for one moment there I thought we lost traction and were actually floating. Drifting down into a swollen SawMill River would have turned a bittersweet / downer of a day into a Mongolian Clusterfuck of a day. As Clarisa might tell you a Mongolian clusterfuck is just like a regular clusterfuck except that it's a clusterfuck without hope.Yet here we are. Mongolian clusterfuck avoided. Score one for us.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Sadness, Anger. Regrets.
Tomorrow, June 29th would have been my sister Jenn's 28th birthday.
Not a day goes by that I don't miss her or think of her in some way. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm angry and sometimes filled with regret.
I'm sad because she's gone and because I'll never see her again and sad because there was a ton of potential in her that will never be realized. She was on her way when she started classes at the CIA - that was a real turning point for her. She was taking responsibility for herself, working hard and enjoying learning. When she had to quit because of her back - - looking back I can see that was the start of a series of troubles and mistakes and poor choices and just rotten fucking luck that somehow, in total, inexorably, killed her. She took a night shift job at IBM and tried to do a full load of regular college classes and could not keep up. She moved out into an aparment she could not afford, moved back and got involved in relationships she didn't really need, but needed to have. Then she moved to Oklahoma for a fresh start and to get a job as an assistant pastry instructor at a community college. She didn't get the job.
I'm angry. I'm angry at her even still. I'm angry for the lies she told and the truths she withheld. I'm angry at myself for not being a better brother. I held back from her and pushed her away when she probably needed me the most. I substituted distance and anger for compassion and love. Friends tell me that if they were in my shoes they would not have had me play it any other way. In retrospect, I'm not sure how right I was and am reminded of some advice I got from a psychologist years ago. He told me just to love her and accept her lies. He told me no matter what she said or did to just be strong and accept it and love her. No anger - no screaming. Just compassion. The irony of it is that last summer I was reading a lot of Buddhist literature and had started to meditate. I guess I was just reading it rather than living it. I was that pissed off at her.
I regret not having reached out to her. I regret not having called her after she moved out to Oklahoma. I regret that the first time she overdosed two weeks before she died that I did not call her to speak to her. I regret that when I finally came to my senses and called her after she had gotten kicked out of the rehab clinic she had checked herself into because insurance would not cover her that all I got was her cell phone voice mail. I was too late.
She died the next day from an overdose of Oxycontin.
The medical examiner in Oklahoma City also found Amatadine in her system - which is one of the large cocktail of drugs she was supposed to be taking as part of an outpatient addiction treatment program. Generally, its given to people with Parkinson's to stop their tremors, but some side effects include confusion and euphoria and in rare cases can make people suicidal. I've read where some doctors refer to it as the poor man's methadone.
So how did she get it (the Oxycontin)? Probably from another patient at the rehab clinic. Her girlfriend found a prescription in her car that was made out to a guy from the clinic she'd been hanging out with and driving around. Maybe she took it from him to stop him. Maybe he gave her some. Maybe she stole it. Who knows. Maybe she thought it was a lower dose than it was.
The night she died she spoke to her best friend and he tells us she was in good spirits, everything considered and seemed to feel better when they hung up. Her girlfriend says she was having a hard time of it though and had gone to bed early that night. She checked on her and decided to head out and get some stuff to make cookies for her so she could have some in the morning. Just a little token - just some comfort food. As she left she said Jenn had been coughing a bit. When she came back forty minutes later she was dead. She worked on her and the paramedics came but from what we can tell they took too long to get Jenn to the ER and that only a little bit of narcotan was given. We're not sure why. Of course, they couldn't and didn't bring her back.
Now I have pictures and clothes and some books of hers. I have some CD's back that had disappeared over the years. I really don't want any of them. I'd much rather she still be wearing her favorite hat or flannel robe or what have you. I'd really rather not have anything of hers if she could still own it.
Tomorrow I will be at her grave and see her headstone for the first time. It's polished black with a rough hewn matte top. I'm sure I'll cry even more then.
I'm glad the last word's she ever said to me were "I love you guys."
We love you too, Jenn. Until we meet again.
One last thing...
When you have really bad chronic back pain and need pain medication and are prone to addiction - it's a high-wire act. Constant pain or constant stupor. And they give it out like candy. The movies make light of it too. I can't tell you how many I've seen where vicodin or oxy or some other opiate is offered freely and in a comedic way, like it's something that can't hurt you and is FUN! That really eats at me. It's not a casual thing. It's worse than heroin and just because it comes in a little pill from a pharmaceutical company instead of a needle does not make it better. Get the help you need or help your friend or family member get the help they need. They need your love and support.
Not a day goes by that I don't miss her or think of her in some way. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm angry and sometimes filled with regret.
I'm sad because she's gone and because I'll never see her again and sad because there was a ton of potential in her that will never be realized. She was on her way when she started classes at the CIA - that was a real turning point for her. She was taking responsibility for herself, working hard and enjoying learning. When she had to quit because of her back - - looking back I can see that was the start of a series of troubles and mistakes and poor choices and just rotten fucking luck that somehow, in total, inexorably, killed her. She took a night shift job at IBM and tried to do a full load of regular college classes and could not keep up. She moved out into an aparment she could not afford, moved back and got involved in relationships she didn't really need, but needed to have. Then she moved to Oklahoma for a fresh start and to get a job as an assistant pastry instructor at a community college. She didn't get the job.
I'm angry. I'm angry at her even still. I'm angry for the lies she told and the truths she withheld. I'm angry at myself for not being a better brother. I held back from her and pushed her away when she probably needed me the most. I substituted distance and anger for compassion and love. Friends tell me that if they were in my shoes they would not have had me play it any other way. In retrospect, I'm not sure how right I was and am reminded of some advice I got from a psychologist years ago. He told me just to love her and accept her lies. He told me no matter what she said or did to just be strong and accept it and love her. No anger - no screaming. Just compassion. The irony of it is that last summer I was reading a lot of Buddhist literature and had started to meditate. I guess I was just reading it rather than living it. I was that pissed off at her.
I regret not having reached out to her. I regret not having called her after she moved out to Oklahoma. I regret that the first time she overdosed two weeks before she died that I did not call her to speak to her. I regret that when I finally came to my senses and called her after she had gotten kicked out of the rehab clinic she had checked herself into because insurance would not cover her that all I got was her cell phone voice mail. I was too late.
She died the next day from an overdose of Oxycontin.
The medical examiner in Oklahoma City also found Amatadine in her system - which is one of the large cocktail of drugs she was supposed to be taking as part of an outpatient addiction treatment program. Generally, its given to people with Parkinson's to stop their tremors, but some side effects include confusion and euphoria and in rare cases can make people suicidal. I've read where some doctors refer to it as the poor man's methadone.
So how did she get it (the Oxycontin)? Probably from another patient at the rehab clinic. Her girlfriend found a prescription in her car that was made out to a guy from the clinic she'd been hanging out with and driving around. Maybe she took it from him to stop him. Maybe he gave her some. Maybe she stole it. Who knows. Maybe she thought it was a lower dose than it was.
The night she died she spoke to her best friend and he tells us she was in good spirits, everything considered and seemed to feel better when they hung up. Her girlfriend says she was having a hard time of it though and had gone to bed early that night. She checked on her and decided to head out and get some stuff to make cookies for her so she could have some in the morning. Just a little token - just some comfort food. As she left she said Jenn had been coughing a bit. When she came back forty minutes later she was dead. She worked on her and the paramedics came but from what we can tell they took too long to get Jenn to the ER and that only a little bit of narcotan was given. We're not sure why. Of course, they couldn't and didn't bring her back.
Now I have pictures and clothes and some books of hers. I have some CD's back that had disappeared over the years. I really don't want any of them. I'd much rather she still be wearing her favorite hat or flannel robe or what have you. I'd really rather not have anything of hers if she could still own it.
Tomorrow I will be at her grave and see her headstone for the first time. It's polished black with a rough hewn matte top. I'm sure I'll cry even more then.
I'm glad the last word's she ever said to me were "I love you guys."
We love you too, Jenn. Until we meet again.
One last thing...
When you have really bad chronic back pain and need pain medication and are prone to addiction - it's a high-wire act. Constant pain or constant stupor. And they give it out like candy. The movies make light of it too. I can't tell you how many I've seen where vicodin or oxy or some other opiate is offered freely and in a comedic way, like it's something that can't hurt you and is FUN! That really eats at me. It's not a casual thing. It's worse than heroin and just because it comes in a little pill from a pharmaceutical company instead of a needle does not make it better. Get the help you need or help your friend or family member get the help they need. They need your love and support.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Moves. Monitoring. Blasting.
Well, we have our kitchen designed and our counter top and cabinets ordered. The contractor is coming on Monday morning at 8AM and we'll be on our way to a renovated house. The insurance adjuster also gets back on Monday. Here's to hoping our submitted expenses meet with no resistance.
Changes are afoot at work. My boss quit. Not sure what that means for me except that I might get a better position. The guy moving up to take his place realizes my untapped potential and seems to be for getting my ENFP ARI self cranking and happy. To that guy I say "Good luck with that!"
The company is also finally moving to its new iVillage digs on 7th and 38th - the movers are coming tomorrow to take our crap out of here and put if over there. All I have is a few books and folders. Not a lot at all. I'm not a big cube decorator. Not into it. Just not my thing. Even if I wanted to, I don't no how I could here in the worlds smallest cube, which is filled with three monitors, two PCs, a Mac and 2 notebooks. I'm lucky if I have room to touch myself. Word has it that the new space will give me, like, more space, man. Fine by me. I'll also finally be getting my hands on some Mercury monitoring and testing tools. If nothing else, it will be good to learn for the resume. People know Mercury is enterprise level, expensive shit. The logic goes if someone let me use it / administrate it, I must know my shit. Shit shit shit.
In other news...Battlefield 2 showed up in the mail yesterday and I got to play it for about an hour. Man o man. It's friggen great. Of course, the college kids who got it at 6AM had been playing it for over 15 hours and were already experts by the time I got it installed, but what can you do. It looks and plays great so far. There is definitely an added layer of complexity to it that was not there before - what with the Commander mode, which takes you out of the game and puts you in command, duh, of your troops, lets you direct artillery. Do satellite sweeps to spot the enemy and so forth. So now when I think about drawing, I am going to want to be blasting away, or checking out $4K gaming rigs.
Changes are afoot at work. My boss quit. Not sure what that means for me except that I might get a better position. The guy moving up to take his place realizes my untapped potential and seems to be for getting my ENFP ARI self cranking and happy. To that guy I say "Good luck with that!"
The company is also finally moving to its new iVillage digs on 7th and 38th - the movers are coming tomorrow to take our crap out of here and put if over there. All I have is a few books and folders. Not a lot at all. I'm not a big cube decorator. Not into it. Just not my thing. Even if I wanted to, I don't no how I could here in the worlds smallest cube, which is filled with three monitors, two PCs, a Mac and 2 notebooks. I'm lucky if I have room to touch myself. Word has it that the new space will give me, like, more space, man. Fine by me. I'll also finally be getting my hands on some Mercury monitoring and testing tools. If nothing else, it will be good to learn for the resume. People know Mercury is enterprise level, expensive shit. The logic goes if someone let me use it / administrate it, I must know my shit. Shit shit shit.
In other news...Battlefield 2 showed up in the mail yesterday and I got to play it for about an hour. Man o man. It's friggen great. Of course, the college kids who got it at 6AM had been playing it for over 15 hours and were already experts by the time I got it installed, but what can you do. It looks and plays great so far. There is definitely an added layer of complexity to it that was not there before - what with the Commander mode, which takes you out of the game and puts you in command, duh, of your troops, lets you direct artillery. Do satellite sweeps to spot the enemy and so forth. So now when I think about drawing, I am going to want to be blasting away, or checking out $4K gaming rigs.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
When we were in Halifiax a while back we visited the graves of the Titanic disaster victims. This headstone of this unknown child is separate from all the others. I took it with a Canon Powershot A-20 and retouched it in Photoshop CS by converting it to B&W and then colorizing and tinting it. The original shot is in the upper left.
Photo By VanishingJames
Saturday, June 18, 2005
"Well At Least You're Focused..."
Ah, there's nothing like the biting sarcasm of a close friend and confident...
Early last week I took some personality tests - first the Strong Interest Inventory Report and then the Myers-Briggs deal. The former measures your interests, confidence and personal approach to things and comes up with occupational themes to focus on while the latter informs you about your personality, how it operates and how to play to your strengths and shore up your weaknesses. All in all good tests and worth it.
I think the results I got back from the Strong Interest Inventory are pretty spot on, but even so its no crystal ball and presents a wide range of career possibilities for the occupational theme it came up with for me - ARI (artistic, realistic, inquiring). Tech showed up, but a little low. Go figure - I thought it would be in the toilet next to accounting and statistics.
So, I reviewed the test results, sent it over to Clarisa and I approached her about it the next day. I told her, "I figure I can do something in Graphic Design, Photography, Stained Glass, Pottery, Architectural Drafting, Editing, Medical Illustration, Package Design or Plumbing Engineering." And then I proceeded to detail what I thought were the pro's cons of each and how I might go about learning more about each field.
She of course replied, "Well At Least You're Focused..."
At first I didn't pick up on the sarcasm -- the reason being that I thought that actually was a narrow band of choices. After all, I had an official looking report that listed them out of millions of possibilities. I stood there looking at her and after a few seconds the sarcasm soaked in.
"You're being sarcastic...?"
"Duh."
"Holy fuck." I thought. Evidently - more focusing needed (& needs) to be done!
The next day I take the Myers-Briggs tests and get the results back quickly. Evidently I am a an ENFP:
So what's and ENFP ARI type guy supposed to do? I could proceed with the NYU Applied Database Tech Certificate and probably get it. It's something I know I can do, but not what I would love to do and I think that the creative side of me deserves a shot. I've squelched it for sooo long. I'm thinking that somwhere in the realm of the visual arts - photography, graphic design, fine arts I'll find my niche.
Right now I'm content to explore and just starting doing stuff - taking pictures, drawing, mucking about with Photoshop and the like. We'll see what comes of it.
Early last week I took some personality tests - first the Strong Interest Inventory Report and then the Myers-Briggs deal. The former measures your interests, confidence and personal approach to things and comes up with occupational themes to focus on while the latter informs you about your personality, how it operates and how to play to your strengths and shore up your weaknesses. All in all good tests and worth it.
I think the results I got back from the Strong Interest Inventory are pretty spot on, but even so its no crystal ball and presents a wide range of career possibilities for the occupational theme it came up with for me - ARI (artistic, realistic, inquiring). Tech showed up, but a little low. Go figure - I thought it would be in the toilet next to accounting and statistics.
So, I reviewed the test results, sent it over to Clarisa and I approached her about it the next day. I told her, "I figure I can do something in Graphic Design, Photography, Stained Glass, Pottery, Architectural Drafting, Editing, Medical Illustration, Package Design or Plumbing Engineering." And then I proceeded to detail what I thought were the pro's cons of each and how I might go about learning more about each field.
She of course replied, "Well At Least You're Focused..."
At first I didn't pick up on the sarcasm -- the reason being that I thought that actually was a narrow band of choices. After all, I had an official looking report that listed them out of millions of possibilities. I stood there looking at her and after a few seconds the sarcasm soaked in.
"You're being sarcastic...?"
"Duh."
"Holy fuck." I thought. Evidently - more focusing needed (& needs) to be done!
The next day I take the Myers-Briggs tests and get the results back quickly. Evidently I am a an ENFP:
And, if Typlogic is to be believed, I share my ENFPness with the likes of:ENFPs are typically enthusiastic innovators, always seeing new possibilities and new ways of doing things. They have a lot of imagination and initiative for starting projects. ENFPsÂ’ energy comes from what is new and different, and they are spontaneous and enjoy action. They can become so interested in their current projects that they drop other things that are less exciting. Because they see so many possibilities, ENFPs sometimes have difficulty picking those with the greatest potential. They dislike routine and find it hard to apply themselves to the sometimes necessary details involved in finishing projects, easily becoming bored. They are concerned about people and understand othersÂ’ needs and aspirations. ENFPs readily communicate their enthusiasm, and this can be infectious. They often inspire others as well. ENFPs are likely to be most satisfied in a work environment that is welcoming to people, innovative, and full of exciting new possibilities. Others can count on them to find new ways of helping people solve problems and overcome barriers.
- Mark Twain
- Will Rogers
- Both Mickey and Andy Rooney
- Paul Harvey
- Elizabeth Montgomery
- Dom Delouise
- Robin Williams
- Sandra Bullock
- I. King Jordan
- Regis Philbin
- Andy Kaufman
So what's and ENFP ARI type guy supposed to do? I could proceed with the NYU Applied Database Tech Certificate and probably get it. It's something I know I can do, but not what I would love to do and I think that the creative side of me deserves a shot. I've squelched it for sooo long. I'm thinking that somwhere in the realm of the visual arts - photography, graphic design, fine arts I'll find my niche.
Right now I'm content to explore and just starting doing stuff - taking pictures, drawing, mucking about with Photoshop and the like. We'll see what comes of it.
Friday, June 17, 2005
A Friday on the Lake
Tonight is a quiet stay at home Friday. Left work a tad early, went for a run and did some push ups and sit ups. My running is getting better - I ran about a quarter mile longer than I did last time and in about the same time. For the rest of the evening I think I'll just chill out and experiment with Photoshop, play a little Desert Combat and call it good.
Last Friday was quiet and relaxing but didn't start out that way - because it's always a pain in the ass to get out of NYC on a summer Friday and get anywhere. Me, I had to get to Lake Hopatcong in NJ to meet up with some Fordham buddies and go out on the lake. So, I flew out of work around 2PM, caught a train to White Plains, hopped in my car and...It won't start.
Dead battery. See what happens when you don't drive anymore!?
Luckily, I spot a cop in the parking lot near the White Plains Convention Center. It's really just a big gym, but lets pretend it's a convention center. Stick with me folks. Ok, so I spot this cop car and its at the red light waiting to pull out of the lot. The car is not close, but its not far. The light turns green and the cop stops to pull out when, miracle of miracles, a car coming in flags it down. So I turn into WhiteManRunning in the 90 degree humid air and make my way toward the cop, hoping the light doesn't turn or that the cop just decides to screw the no right on red rule.
I make it to the cop car. It's a female Westchester County Cop. I ask. She differs. I ask again and tell her what I'm trying to do and who I am trying to see and that every second counts when it comes to making it across the Tappan Zee on a Friday afternoon. She relents and tells me not to hurt myself and lets me use her battery to jump my car. I cast many blessings and good feelings her way and I'm off. I tell myself that maybe she helped because I was cute. It's a longshot, but what the hey.
I get home, rip off my clothes, walk the dog fast (pee dammit pee!!!) and hop back in my car and go off to battle the traffic on the Tappan Zee. I figured at 3:40 it can't be too bad. The normal 25 minute trip to Joe's place takes 40 minutes. Not horrible. Then Joe is dicking around and we wind up pissing away about 25 minutes. It's an enjoyable 25 minutes but every second counts because now traffic on route 80 west is mounting. Eventually, we blast off and make our way to Lake Hopatcong. Joe is a bit of a closet metal /hard rock freak and he's got System Of A Down's Mezmerize playing and we're just rocking out to it and talking about boozing and sex. (I wind up buying the album the next day on iTunes. Clarisa calls it my "Kill your parents" music. That makes me laugh. :-))
Eventually we make it and Paul and Jerry are there waiting for us. Seconds later we are on the boat and the world changes suddenly. Four lifelong friends are back together - just briefly we know - and it seemed like all our troubles got left in the wake of Paul's boat. We zoomed around. I got to drive a bit and we wound up dropping anchor and just jumping in the lake and floating around.
Nice rays, cool beer, floating around in a lake with life long pals -- priceless stuff. I'd show you all pictures of it but me, being the forgetful dumbass that I can be, remembered to bring my digital camera but forgot to load a CF card. So, all I have is mental snapshots. Let's hope they last! Even better - we need to get out on that boat again soon.
Last Friday was quiet and relaxing but didn't start out that way - because it's always a pain in the ass to get out of NYC on a summer Friday and get anywhere. Me, I had to get to Lake Hopatcong in NJ to meet up with some Fordham buddies and go out on the lake. So, I flew out of work around 2PM, caught a train to White Plains, hopped in my car and...It won't start.
Dead battery. See what happens when you don't drive anymore!?
Luckily, I spot a cop in the parking lot near the White Plains Convention Center. It's really just a big gym, but lets pretend it's a convention center. Stick with me folks. Ok, so I spot this cop car and its at the red light waiting to pull out of the lot. The car is not close, but its not far. The light turns green and the cop stops to pull out when, miracle of miracles, a car coming in flags it down. So I turn into WhiteManRunning in the 90 degree humid air and make my way toward the cop, hoping the light doesn't turn or that the cop just decides to screw the no right on red rule.
I make it to the cop car. It's a female Westchester County Cop. I ask. She differs. I ask again and tell her what I'm trying to do and who I am trying to see and that every second counts when it comes to making it across the Tappan Zee on a Friday afternoon. She relents and tells me not to hurt myself and lets me use her battery to jump my car. I cast many blessings and good feelings her way and I'm off. I tell myself that maybe she helped because I was cute. It's a longshot, but what the hey.
I get home, rip off my clothes, walk the dog fast (pee dammit pee!!!) and hop back in my car and go off to battle the traffic on the Tappan Zee. I figured at 3:40 it can't be too bad. The normal 25 minute trip to Joe's place takes 40 minutes. Not horrible. Then Joe is dicking around and we wind up pissing away about 25 minutes. It's an enjoyable 25 minutes but every second counts because now traffic on route 80 west is mounting. Eventually, we blast off and make our way to Lake Hopatcong. Joe is a bit of a closet metal /hard rock freak and he's got System Of A Down's Mezmerize playing and we're just rocking out to it and talking about boozing and sex. (I wind up buying the album the next day on iTunes. Clarisa calls it my "Kill your parents" music. That makes me laugh. :-))
Eventually we make it and Paul and Jerry are there waiting for us. Seconds later we are on the boat and the world changes suddenly. Four lifelong friends are back together - just briefly we know - and it seemed like all our troubles got left in the wake of Paul's boat. We zoomed around. I got to drive a bit and we wound up dropping anchor and just jumping in the lake and floating around.
Nice rays, cool beer, floating around in a lake with life long pals -- priceless stuff. I'd show you all pictures of it but me, being the forgetful dumbass that I can be, remembered to bring my digital camera but forgot to load a CF card. So, all I have is mental snapshots. Let's hope they last! Even better - we need to get out on that boat again soon.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Golden Monkey. Drink it. Spank it. Drink it.
Last summer in mid July a few cool things happened:
The waitress tells us they have a new beer in and asks us if we would like to try it. She gives a sample and we love it. It's a Belgian style beer with "abundant fruity flavors" and supposedly packs a kick. We order a pint for each of us. About 10 minutes later and 3/4 of the way through our beers I look over at Matt and feel compelled to make a declaration...
"I don't know how this is possible, but I'm buzzed going on drunk." I said.
"Me too!" Matt said.
We were amazed.
So we finished them and ordered another round and in effect wound up downing a six pack worth of regular beer in less than an hour. Why? Because our magical golden monkey of the fruity flavors and glowing goodness packs 9.5% alcohol by volume.
Oh yes. Golden Monkey is an effective beer.
After that day, I never saw Golden Monkey again. None of the stores down here carry it, or at least they did not the last time I looked. Not that I shop for beer at all really, but when the mood struck now and again I never could find it.
Until now.
A little beverage center that we just happened to stop in on the way to see some friends of ours had it. Not being one to pass up an opportunity, I bought a case of it. As luck would have it, my brother in law is coming out in early July for vacation and to help with the house and once again we will be able to lift a few. AFTER the repairs. Lord knows how fucked up things might get otherwise...
The added bonus of this beer is that you get to say, think and write things like...
- My brother in law came out to see us
- We saw a Yankee game in which El Duque made a successful return to Yankee Stadium
- We discovered Golden Monkey (by Victory)
The waitress tells us they have a new beer in and asks us if we would like to try it. She gives a sample and we love it. It's a Belgian style beer with "abundant fruity flavors" and supposedly packs a kick. We order a pint for each of us. About 10 minutes later and 3/4 of the way through our beers I look over at Matt and feel compelled to make a declaration...
"I don't know how this is possible, but I'm buzzed going on drunk." I said.
"Me too!" Matt said.
We were amazed.
So we finished them and ordered another round and in effect wound up downing a six pack worth of regular beer in less than an hour. Why? Because our magical golden monkey of the fruity flavors and glowing goodness packs 9.5% alcohol by volume.
Oh yes. Golden Monkey is an effective beer.
After that day, I never saw Golden Monkey again. None of the stores down here carry it, or at least they did not the last time I looked. Not that I shop for beer at all really, but when the mood struck now and again I never could find it.
Until now.
A little beverage center that we just happened to stop in on the way to see some friends of ours had it. Not being one to pass up an opportunity, I bought a case of it. As luck would have it, my brother in law is coming out in early July for vacation and to help with the house and once again we will be able to lift a few. AFTER the repairs. Lord knows how fucked up things might get otherwise...
The added bonus of this beer is that you get to say, think and write things like...
I'm happy to share my Monkey. I'll show you where my Monkey is and then let you go get some Monkey 'cos I'm a Monkey lova. I bet you like my Golden Monkey when its cold. Someone help me find my Monkey! I bet you want my Monkey! [inspired by Joe Cartoon's "Look at my Monkey" -- go watch it!]
James catches a break
Good news! We had the insurance adjuster out here yesterday and it looks like all the damage is going to be covered. We already have the floor, so now we just need to head out to Home Depot and plan out a kitchen and bathroom and arrange to have them installed along with new wallboard.
In the meantime, the cats are fascinated with the new "corridor" between the master bath and the kitchen. They just think it's the shit and keep parading in and out of there like its the grand opening of the Chunnel.
Of course its not as horrible now as it was. We tore out all that filth and cleaned it up. It looks like crap, but its clean and neat and not going to stay forever and THANKFULLY we are not going to go broke repairing it all. Yay! So, to sum up, we are not letting our animals parade through the filth.
Anymore. ;-)
On a side note - I took Sasha running with me for the first time in ages and I have to say she was just great. In the past, she was a loon. All things living and dead needed to be checked out and she was just too much to actually run with. This time though -- she did her business at the beginning and then was content to just pad along side me down the rail trail right near our place. We've found our niche! I can't wait to take her tomorrow again.
In the meantime, the cats are fascinated with the new "corridor" between the master bath and the kitchen. They just think it's the shit and keep parading in and out of there like its the grand opening of the Chunnel.
Of course its not as horrible now as it was. We tore out all that filth and cleaned it up. It looks like crap, but its clean and neat and not going to stay forever and THANKFULLY we are not going to go broke repairing it all. Yay! So, to sum up, we are not letting our animals parade through the filth.
Anymore. ;-)
On a side note - I took Sasha running with me for the first time in ages and I have to say she was just great. In the past, she was a loon. All things living and dead needed to be checked out and she was just too much to actually run with. This time though -- she did her business at the beginning and then was content to just pad along side me down the rail trail right near our place. We've found our niche! I can't wait to take her tomorrow again.
See the little black eye looking thing to the left of center, just under the rusted metal? It's a little hole. A little tiny hole the size of a nail. A nail some SOB put into the pipe who knows how long ago. A nail that has caused a hole that caused the leak that caused all of this aggravation and accidental Buddhist mind training. Shit happens. Indeed.
Photo By VanishingJames
Monday, June 06, 2005
Summer in the City
It was hot today in the city, and with the return of the heat is the return of the NYC's finest, and lets face facts in some cases, not so fine, cleavage.
Nonetheless the cleavage season is back and going to lunch is an adventure for single and married man alike.
As an added bonus, sometimes, like today -- the sky gets dark real fast and there is a flash storm.
And then mes froid chats, it's simply boobies galore. It's a wet T-Shirt contest with no cover.
Ahh. The guilty pleasures of the commute..
Nonetheless the cleavage season is back and going to lunch is an adventure for single and married man alike.
As an added bonus, sometimes, like today -- the sky gets dark real fast and there is a flash storm.
And then mes froid chats, it's simply boobies galore. It's a wet T-Shirt contest with no cover.
Ahh. The guilty pleasures of the commute..
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Leak Update and some other stuff..
I haven't posted for a while because I have been dealing with this unraveling disaster at my house. To recap - our washing machine door busted open a few weeks ago, spilling water onto and under our laminate floor. We could not get the water up so we thought we would replace the boards. Lo and behold though, there is water everywhere, too much to be just from the washing machine. Long story short - we had a leak from 3 inch "stack vent" pipe caused by someone, maybe the original builders, putting a nail into the pipe. Water pretty much runs down this pipe all the time and was slowly leaking out into the wood around the pipe and into the wallboard and all underneath our kitchen cabinets for who knows how long. Over time, that's a lot of water damage and that's what we have. If it was not for the washing machine spilling open though, the problem could have gone on a lot longer. We really had no idea the extent of the damage being caused. It was all hidden.
So far, we've torn out all the wallboard in our kitchen from counter-top height on down. It was soaked and moldy and just yucky. It had to come out so we armed ourselves with n-95 respirators, rubber gloves, detergent, bleach and any power tool we figured could help and had at it, taking pictures the whole way through. Even though its disgusting, I saved the wallboard we tore out. Its in garbage bags in our back deck. Our insurance adjuster is coming Tuesday to assess the situation and I need to make a call to a contractor to have our own estimate done. Because this was a pipe inside the wall - a common pipe too, I figure the condo insurance is going to get involved as well.
As far as how we are dealing with all of this -- we've moved through all the phases to acceptance. We cried, we screamed, we bitched and we've certainly worried. Of course, our friends and family have been there to support us. Now we just need to get the insurance issues figured out and we will be well on our way to having a livable home again.
On the job front, I'm wondering if it isn't time to pursue an advanced degree or a certificate and then a degree. In what, I'm not exactly sure, so I am going to take some assessment exams, like the Briggs-Meyers deal in order to find out what I might be interested in / good at. From a purely professional level, it makes sense to do something like NYU's Graduate Certificate in Information Technology (Applied Database Technologies concentration) and try to parlay that into an M.S. in Management and Systems. I figure if I am such a big picture guy, its better for me to move into management than to try and spend years becoming an expert DBA. At the same time though , I'd like to think that my DB skills will all improve through coursework, experience and my own studies.
Of course, this will be both a personal and financial challenge - but one that I've got to do. Maybe its the IT certificate and grad program. Maybe not. Something's coming though. Bet on it.
So far, we've torn out all the wallboard in our kitchen from counter-top height on down. It was soaked and moldy and just yucky. It had to come out so we armed ourselves with n-95 respirators, rubber gloves, detergent, bleach and any power tool we figured could help and had at it, taking pictures the whole way through. Even though its disgusting, I saved the wallboard we tore out. Its in garbage bags in our back deck. Our insurance adjuster is coming Tuesday to assess the situation and I need to make a call to a contractor to have our own estimate done. Because this was a pipe inside the wall - a common pipe too, I figure the condo insurance is going to get involved as well.
As far as how we are dealing with all of this -- we've moved through all the phases to acceptance. We cried, we screamed, we bitched and we've certainly worried. Of course, our friends and family have been there to support us. Now we just need to get the insurance issues figured out and we will be well on our way to having a livable home again.
On the job front, I'm wondering if it isn't time to pursue an advanced degree or a certificate and then a degree. In what, I'm not exactly sure, so I am going to take some assessment exams, like the Briggs-Meyers deal in order to find out what I might be interested in / good at. From a purely professional level, it makes sense to do something like NYU's Graduate Certificate in Information Technology (Applied Database Technologies concentration) and try to parlay that into an M.S. in Management and Systems. I figure if I am such a big picture guy, its better for me to move into management than to try and spend years becoming an expert DBA. At the same time though , I'd like to think that my DB skills will all improve through coursework, experience and my own studies.
Of course, this will be both a personal and financial challenge - but one that I've got to do. Maybe its the IT certificate and grad program. Maybe not. Something's coming though. Bet on it.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Pissed.
There has been no water coming out from the kitchen wall for about the last 5 days. It's been a little damp around the walls, but not weeping and oozing.
Until tonight.
SoFA King Un Bee Leave Able.
All we can do is be pissed and wait for this to dry out. Until then its cement floors and dormant power tools.
Part of me is like, this is good Buddhist training. Suffering is part of daily existence. Its something we have to undergo whether we like it or not. So, its just really my attitude that needs to be modified. I need to tolerate it (wet cement, torn up floors) more.
The other part of me is like: You are full of shit!
Until tonight.
SoFA King Un Bee Leave Able.
All we can do is be pissed and wait for this to dry out. Until then its cement floors and dormant power tools.
Part of me is like, this is good Buddhist training. Suffering is part of daily existence. Its something we have to undergo whether we like it or not. So, its just really my attitude that needs to be modified. I need to tolerate it (wet cement, torn up floors) more.
The other part of me is like: You are full of shit!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Tired Tired Tired.
I've been in no mood to write. It must be the weather, in part. It's cold and rainy and blechy. Today was the type of rainy blustery day that I always associate with my college days. The quality of the air, the wind, the light rain -- for whatever reason it makes me think of school and of mid-terms. Its also the type of day I would throw my covers back over my head and spend the day languishing in bed. But in this school you just get 15 days PTO a year, never mind a summer vacation - so you must choose wisely, lest you piss it all away.
Another reason I haven't written lately at all is that I am just tired. Tired tired tired. Its no wonder though, since my insomnia is kicking in pretty good and my brain just is not clicking the way I like it to when I write. I'm not sure if its really beneficial to my writing per se, but it certainly is more enjoyable.
Larry Block or some other author recommends you to write no matter what, even when you don't feel like it. Its important to me, and you dear Internet are important. All three or four of you that read this semi monthly. Or not. So here I am forcing it, for what its worth.
Onwards then...
Career possibilities are careening around my head again. Cinematography, photography, feature writing, screenwriting, graphic arts, painting, drawing, advertising. Even cooking school. Yep. If you check my IE history you will see FCI pages. If you look on my bookshelves you will see GRE and LSAT books. Somewhere there is even an application to CUNY Psychiatry program. I get Pace nursing school information. Westchester Community College sends me EMT literature because I had spoken to them last summer. Of course there's the Coldfusion, ASP.NET, SQL and SQL Server 2000 books as well. In short, I am all over the place. Part of me wants out of tech and another part of me thinks I might do well if I could just find niche and a mentor. That's not really working out though. Not yet.
So what does all these careening career thoughts mean? Just one thing. It means JamesBoDean here is none too happy with work and clutching at straws to find a way out. Still though, I don't think its coincidence I've tended to look at the less pragmatic choices - ones that take a ton of time and a ton of education (aka a ton of $$). Psychology would be a good example. It plays into my lightly held, very naive belief that you can do whatever you want, do whatever you put your mind to. No dream is too big and its never too late to change your life. But the reality of it is I am a bit old to pursue a PhD in psychology and it's not like I am coming off of twenty years of raking in the coin and I'm ready for a change of pace / second career type thing. I'm just starting to get this one figured out! However the advantage in choosing such impractical goals (at this juncture) is that one, I don't actually have to follow through and two, I get to feel miserable about it. Do you get it? The psychology of its pretty clear. I get to do nothing and be pissed off about it.
In my heart, I think I know what I need to do. I need to concentrate on one of these hobbies that I've laid aside (drawing, painting, writing, guitar and so forth) and try to grow it as best I can while performing the best I can at work. At least it would bring some balance to things. Anything else really seems like change for change's sake and rings false. I think Thoreau said it best...
Another reason I haven't written lately at all is that I am just tired. Tired tired tired. Its no wonder though, since my insomnia is kicking in pretty good and my brain just is not clicking the way I like it to when I write. I'm not sure if its really beneficial to my writing per se, but it certainly is more enjoyable.
Larry Block or some other author recommends you to write no matter what, even when you don't feel like it. Its important to me, and you dear Internet are important. All three or four of you that read this semi monthly. Or not. So here I am forcing it, for what its worth.
Onwards then...
Career possibilities are careening around my head again. Cinematography, photography, feature writing, screenwriting, graphic arts, painting, drawing, advertising. Even cooking school. Yep. If you check my IE history you will see FCI pages. If you look on my bookshelves you will see GRE and LSAT books. Somewhere there is even an application to CUNY Psychiatry program. I get Pace nursing school information. Westchester Community College sends me EMT literature because I had spoken to them last summer. Of course there's the Coldfusion, ASP.NET, SQL and SQL Server 2000 books as well. In short, I am all over the place. Part of me wants out of tech and another part of me thinks I might do well if I could just find niche and a mentor. That's not really working out though. Not yet.
So what does all these careening career thoughts mean? Just one thing. It means JamesBoDean here is none too happy with work and clutching at straws to find a way out. Still though, I don't think its coincidence I've tended to look at the less pragmatic choices - ones that take a ton of time and a ton of education (aka a ton of $$). Psychology would be a good example. It plays into my lightly held, very naive belief that you can do whatever you want, do whatever you put your mind to. No dream is too big and its never too late to change your life. But the reality of it is I am a bit old to pursue a PhD in psychology and it's not like I am coming off of twenty years of raking in the coin and I'm ready for a change of pace / second career type thing. I'm just starting to get this one figured out! However the advantage in choosing such impractical goals (at this juncture) is that one, I don't actually have to follow through and two, I get to feel miserable about it. Do you get it? The psychology of its pretty clear. I get to do nothing and be pissed off about it.
In my heart, I think I know what I need to do. I need to concentrate on one of these hobbies that I've laid aside (drawing, painting, writing, guitar and so forth) and try to grow it as best I can while performing the best I can at work. At least it would bring some balance to things. Anything else really seems like change for change's sake and rings false. I think Thoreau said it best...
All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be. Perhaps we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we have so conducted, so enterprised or sailed in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be like keeping new wine in old bottles.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Tooling Up
We've decided to wait till next weekend to put the new floor down. It's still too wet and this is not the type of thing to rush. The walls have stopped pushing out puddles of water, but the cement is still damp right around the kitchen wall, so we're running a fan on it and just giving it time.
We figure the water from the burst pipe froze underneath our master bath and kitchen floors and has been slowly melting and seeping into the dining area. Its the only thing we can think of to explain the water from the washer warping floor boards before the water from the burst pipe did.
Meanwhile, our dining area and hallway floors are a Meatpacking District loft cement chic.
There's also a growing arsenal of tools gathering in the dining area. We've got brand new Stanley screwdrivers, a Black & Decker 1/2" VSR drill/driver, a Ryobi 14 amp 71/4" circular saw, a mitre box and a Workforce workbench. Alas, I still lack the power sander that would grant me status and cachet amongst the Fordham Crew. Legend has it that our friend Jeff blew off a party of all parties because he had a new power sander and a deck to work on. Ever since, the power sander has taken on an almost mystical status. If you have one, you can get out of anything.
We figure the water from the burst pipe froze underneath our master bath and kitchen floors and has been slowly melting and seeping into the dining area. Its the only thing we can think of to explain the water from the washer warping floor boards before the water from the burst pipe did.
Meanwhile, our dining area and hallway floors are a Meatpacking District loft cement chic.
There's also a growing arsenal of tools gathering in the dining area. We've got brand new Stanley screwdrivers, a Black & Decker 1/2" VSR drill/driver, a Ryobi 14 amp 71/4" circular saw, a mitre box and a Workforce workbench. Alas, I still lack the power sander that would grant me status and cachet amongst the Fordham Crew. Legend has it that our friend Jeff blew off a party of all parties because he had a new power sander and a deck to work on. Ever since, the power sander has taken on an almost mystical status. If you have one, you can get out of anything.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Huzzah!
Ok, its time to throw some props around.
- Lets here it for Joe Rizzo of Sfumato! Aside from his prolific blogging, Joe and his wife, Debbie, are going to have triplets (Pedro, Carlos & Mike)! On top of that, Joe has just made public that he has taken a job with Insight. On top of that, I belive Joe just covered the Mets / Yankees game tonight as a freelancer for SportsTicker. Pfffff. Yanks win. So again, much love and congratulations to Joe and Deb.
- Jeff Healy of the Fordham crew is expecting baby "cuattro" at any time. The Rizzo's are quickly closing the gap, but as Healy would say 'Eh, though. I'm one up."
- Dennis DeRobertis of D2 is slinging code and dodging bullets at Clarisa's old stomping grounds - Mastercard. Dennis has also signed a contract to write a book on how to use FrontPage. He's also got a children's book in the works.
- Dave Chepiga is graduating Fordham University this weekend and getting his Masters in Education. While I cannot confirm, I will allege that he did it with a 4.0. Freaking great! It'll be nice to have him around again too now that his studies are winding down.
So that's it. People that I know are out there getting it done and movin' and groovin'. Way to go folks.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I finally get around to saying thank you
Here it is, May 18th. Fourteen years ago today I graduated Fordham University with my very worldly, but not very practical liberal arts degree (BA in English). Its a cliche, but it sure does seem just like yesterday that the "Fordham Crew" was closing down Clarke's Bar and gathering later on with our families for the commencement ceremonies. Denzel Washington, a Fordham Lincoln Center Alum, spoke under sunny, warm skies.
As great as it was to be together that one last time as college kids, moods were tempered somewhat because we were all feeling for Paul, whose brother had just gotten into a very serious motorcycle accident earlier that week. For a while, it was touch and go whether or not he would be ok. Luckily everything worked out.
Everything really has.
As a group, we've had our share of setbacks, struggles, trials, tribulations and any other synonyms you want to throw in for "shitty, crappy times", but we've also seen wonderful, successful, remarkable times.
What's more, we've always been there for each other in good times and bad.
My turn came seven months ago today on October 18th, 2004, the day we buried my sister, Jenn. I can't believe its been that long already. I'll say the same thing again next month, and probably the months and years after that. Its always going to seem close. I can't imagine it not being that way. Big memories always do.
When she died, me, my parents and the rest of my family were wrecks, but we got a huge amount of support and love from all over the place that helped and is helping us all cope. People came in from all over. Brooklyn, PA, Virginia, New Jersey. Flowers came in from everywhere. The house filled up. People helped out however they could. Through most of it, through the cloud of my grief, it hardly seemed to help. I could not imagine feeling worse. In retrospect though, I see exactly how much it did help and how much of a comfort it was to have family and friends around. I'm pleased at the number of friends that Jenn still had in the area that showed up for the wake and funeral too.
Of course, the Fordham guys all made it up. If you were there, they were the "Good looking young men in suits." as one of my aunts put it. They were there when I needed them and I leaned on a few - especially Sfumato who put aside his own troubles for me.
It could have been so much worse. We could have gone through this alone, but we didn't.
Thank you.
As for what happened to Jenn. That's coming.
As great as it was to be together that one last time as college kids, moods were tempered somewhat because we were all feeling for Paul, whose brother had just gotten into a very serious motorcycle accident earlier that week. For a while, it was touch and go whether or not he would be ok. Luckily everything worked out.
Everything really has.
As a group, we've had our share of setbacks, struggles, trials, tribulations and any other synonyms you want to throw in for "shitty, crappy times", but we've also seen wonderful, successful, remarkable times.
What's more, we've always been there for each other in good times and bad.
My turn came seven months ago today on October 18th, 2004, the day we buried my sister, Jenn. I can't believe its been that long already. I'll say the same thing again next month, and probably the months and years after that. Its always going to seem close. I can't imagine it not being that way. Big memories always do.
When she died, me, my parents and the rest of my family were wrecks, but we got a huge amount of support and love from all over the place that helped and is helping us all cope. People came in from all over. Brooklyn, PA, Virginia, New Jersey. Flowers came in from everywhere. The house filled up. People helped out however they could. Through most of it, through the cloud of my grief, it hardly seemed to help. I could not imagine feeling worse. In retrospect though, I see exactly how much it did help and how much of a comfort it was to have family and friends around. I'm pleased at the number of friends that Jenn still had in the area that showed up for the wake and funeral too.
Of course, the Fordham guys all made it up. If you were there, they were the "Good looking young men in suits." as one of my aunts put it. They were there when I needed them and I leaned on a few - especially Sfumato who put aside his own troubles for me.
It could have been so much worse. We could have gone through this alone, but we didn't.
Thank you.
As for what happened to Jenn. That's coming.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Wet Floors. New Floors.
Well, the trip to Home Depot was successful. We wound up getting a little over 300 square feet of new, different laminate flooring.
Of course, it really wasn't that easy. I've got issues, man. As a recovering credit card junkie, I get pretty jittery spending anything over $500 dollars. I get buyers remorse, post cash-partum depression or whatever you want to call it. So, basically, when confronted with having to spend any amount of money these days, I become a difficult asshole. A passive aggressive difficult asshole. At least I'm aware of it though and try to rein it in.
Like I was saying, it wasn't that easy. I made the trip reluctantly and apprehensively. Reluctantly because I really wanted to be at home playing Desert Combat and configuring all sorts of different cool-mo-dean super high powered gaming PC rigs that I might want to gift myself. Apprehensively because I know money was going to be spent. Clarisa, when it comes to non-clothes shopping - shops like a man. She walks in and bang, she knows what she wants and buys it. Knowing this, for me the buyers remorse can actually kick in before the purchase.
Yeah, I'm pretty flaked out when it comes to spending money. But I'm not a tightwad. Its just that I flake out and hem and haw about it.
Naturally, I was hoping to get away with just buying a few replacement boards. One box at most. Maybe two. Clarisa, having hated the floor since we moved in, wanted to go for the gusto and just replace everything. We had the money, and its not rocket science installing laminate flooring - so what the heck?! I managed not to drive her from Home Depot in tears and we got the new flooring.
Good thing we did too, because when we got home we pulled up a few boards where we thought the water was, and then we pulled up a few more and then a few more until we'd cleared close to 200 hundred sq feet of board. Water everywhere. Obviously, a bigger problem than anticipated, but not really that surprising in retrospect.
There was even water under there from the great pipe bursting incident from this winter. Argh, that was disgusting. Its amazing there aren't more problems - the boards looked fine but underneath there was a layer of gunk and ooze Swamp Thing would love.
Right now the floor is ripped up, furniture all moved around (the bedroom has become the dining room) and we've got to bring in the flooring and let it acclimate for three days. Then we can start putting the new stuff down. In the meantime the place can dry out, too. It sure needs it.
But while I'm putting stuff down, I'm thinking "out". We've got to move out of here. Anywhere within an hour's train ride of the city and I think I'm game.
Of course, it really wasn't that easy. I've got issues, man. As a recovering credit card junkie, I get pretty jittery spending anything over $500 dollars. I get buyers remorse, post cash-partum depression or whatever you want to call it. So, basically, when confronted with having to spend any amount of money these days, I become a difficult asshole. A passive aggressive difficult asshole. At least I'm aware of it though and try to rein it in.
Like I was saying, it wasn't that easy. I made the trip reluctantly and apprehensively. Reluctantly because I really wanted to be at home playing Desert Combat and configuring all sorts of different cool-mo-dean super high powered gaming PC rigs that I might want to gift myself. Apprehensively because I know money was going to be spent. Clarisa, when it comes to non-clothes shopping - shops like a man. She walks in and bang, she knows what she wants and buys it. Knowing this, for me the buyers remorse can actually kick in before the purchase.
Yeah, I'm pretty flaked out when it comes to spending money. But I'm not a tightwad. Its just that I flake out and hem and haw about it.
Naturally, I was hoping to get away with just buying a few replacement boards. One box at most. Maybe two. Clarisa, having hated the floor since we moved in, wanted to go for the gusto and just replace everything. We had the money, and its not rocket science installing laminate flooring - so what the heck?! I managed not to drive her from Home Depot in tears and we got the new flooring.
Good thing we did too, because when we got home we pulled up a few boards where we thought the water was, and then we pulled up a few more and then a few more until we'd cleared close to 200 hundred sq feet of board. Water everywhere. Obviously, a bigger problem than anticipated, but not really that surprising in retrospect.
There was even water under there from the great pipe bursting incident from this winter. Argh, that was disgusting. Its amazing there aren't more problems - the boards looked fine but underneath there was a layer of gunk and ooze Swamp Thing would love.
Right now the floor is ripped up, furniture all moved around (the bedroom has become the dining room) and we've got to bring in the flooring and let it acclimate for three days. Then we can start putting the new stuff down. In the meantime the place can dry out, too. It sure needs it.
But while I'm putting stuff down, I'm thinking "out". We've got to move out of here. Anywhere within an hour's train ride of the city and I think I'm game.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
I clean my office yet must still face other responsibilities...
I spent most of the morning and this first part of the afternoon straightening up around the house, mainly in my office, which tends to ebb and flow from neat to cluttered to oh fuck and back to neat. I like neat, but I'm disorganized and a procrastinator -- so when the office gets bad it gets pretty bad but then some switch flips and I kick into clean mode. I even enjoy it. Perhaps its that buried inner chef in me, pissed off at my neglected mis en place.
Right now, Clarisa is still asleep with the cats piled around her. Saturday is her sleep in day. As for me, I try to sleep in, but rarely can unless I'm medicated and even then most times I'll just wake up stoned and try to deal. Not that it's a common occurrence. Given my family history (addictions seem to run rampant) and what happened to my sister - pills aren't really my favorite thing. However, when my insomnia is in full bloom and I'm getting like two hours of sleep a night for over a week - a pill does help.
I have to admit one thing -- I've straightened up around here today and been quiet and tried not to wake Clairey because I don't want to go do the run around errand thing today - like go across the Tappan Zee the Palisades Mall and Home Depot. I figure maybe if the place is clean and if she sleeps in long enough she'll think its too late to go.
Oh well. That's not too be. Just as I typed that last paragraph she got up and came straight into the office and announced we will be going to Home Depot.
Now is that ironic? My not-so-elaborate stupid plan...foiled.
See, its the procrastinator in me. I know we need to go because we need to replace our floors because we had yet another flood a few days ago. This time our piece of shit washer door flew open and sudsy water poured out and underneath our laminate floor. The floorboards are bulging and the water is still sloshing around in there despite my efforts to wet-vac it up.
So its something that needs to be done. Really.
Yet here I am hoping somehow to avoid having to do anything about it. At times like these I must seem 13.
Right now, Clarisa is still asleep with the cats piled around her. Saturday is her sleep in day. As for me, I try to sleep in, but rarely can unless I'm medicated and even then most times I'll just wake up stoned and try to deal. Not that it's a common occurrence. Given my family history (addictions seem to run rampant) and what happened to my sister - pills aren't really my favorite thing. However, when my insomnia is in full bloom and I'm getting like two hours of sleep a night for over a week - a pill does help.
I have to admit one thing -- I've straightened up around here today and been quiet and tried not to wake Clairey because I don't want to go do the run around errand thing today - like go across the Tappan Zee the Palisades Mall and Home Depot. I figure maybe if the place is clean and if she sleeps in long enough she'll think its too late to go.
Oh well. That's not too be. Just as I typed that last paragraph she got up and came straight into the office and announced we will be going to Home Depot.
Now is that ironic? My not-so-elaborate stupid plan...foiled.
See, its the procrastinator in me. I know we need to go because we need to replace our floors because we had yet another flood a few days ago. This time our piece of shit washer door flew open and sudsy water poured out and underneath our laminate floor. The floorboards are bulging and the water is still sloshing around in there despite my efforts to wet-vac it up.
So its something that needs to be done. Really.
Yet here I am hoping somehow to avoid having to do anything about it. At times like these I must seem 13.
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