Topic: Hiking = goodness

Went hiking up in Harriman State Park yesturday, temp. was at least 75 degrees.  Drove up w/ 3 friends (actually, 2 friends, and 1 total stranger who called me a midnight the night before for a ride).  The hike was supposed to be part a meetup.com hike, but, as we anticipated, we were unable to actually find anyone else who was supposed to be part of the group.  This was probably due to the directions we were given “parking lot on route 6″ Well…route 6 is about 8 miles long, and we doubled back along it a couple of times, ultimately deciding to do our own hike, just the 4 of us.  On a funny, sad note, we received a call from a few other people who apparently took a train up from NYC, then took a cab to where they thought the hiking spot was, but after seeing nobody, opted to go all the way home.  Kind of hard to feel bad for people like that.

Topic: Baby Names

My sisters and I were having conversations about what we would name our kids, should we one day have the little rugrats.  Some ideas that came up

Basil
Rosemary
Oregano          (hmm…sprice girls much?)
                  
Girdy          (my sister’s choice for her 4-legged child/puppy)
Soztam       (matzos backwards, because why not)
Gipple        (rhymes with a part of the female anatomy, although men have ‘em too)

April
May
June          (but not any other month)

Summer    (Summer Phoenix….but not winter, spring, or fall)
Wolf         (Wolf Blitzer)

Moses
Apple     (the names of Gwyneth Paltrow’s 2 children)

Brooklyn  (where David Beckham laid the seed for his son)

Lily       (Lily Lilienthal…we’d really have to be sadistic to do that to our kids)

Bay        (like the leaf, or the body of water)

Monkey    (my personal favorite…Monkey Lilienthal)

Hope     (pretty name)
Joy        (happy name)
Joey       (from Blossom)
Six         (from Blossom)
Seven    (from Seinfeld….Mickey Mantle’s Number)
Kevin    (From Kevin Bacon)

Speed               (my OB instructor)
Blazing Speed   (faster than the original)

Vincent Diesel        (already taken)
Daniel Notsodiesel   (reserved for me)

Zach     (every Zach I’ve known has been cool)
Ian        (every Ian I’ve known has been talented)
Bridget / Pamela   (Every Bridget / Pamela I have known has either been cute or had                                       big boobs)

Willy       (like Wonka, or a penis)
Richard   (like a dick)
Mulva     (once again, rhymes w/ a part of the female anatomy, coutesy of Seinfeld)
Horny     (“Hi, I’m horny….oh, now that’s just gooooooooood)

Topic: It’s passover!

Yes, it’s true.  I’m a Jew.  I hope that doesn’t cut down on the enormous number of e-props I receive on a daily basis.

For all you gentiles out there, Passover is a Jewish holiday that commemorates our building of one of the most famous tourist attractions in the world, the pyramids of Egypt, and our subsequent escaping from our slave labor (only to return to slave labor 2000+ years later in the form of data entry bitches).

This is the holiday where moses led the Jews in their Exodus of Egypt, where he (with the help of “G dash D” split the sea of reeds, which then swallowed up and killed many of the Egyptian slave masters.  During the escape, the Jews were in such a rush, that the bread they would bake in the sun, did not have any time to rise.  As a result, 2000+ years later, Jews celebrate by eating matza!

and a number of other symbolic foods.  Tonight and Wednesday night, Jews around the world sit down with their families and re-tell the story of the exodus from Egypt, which includes traditions such as drinking wine (4 cups), singing songs, and, of course, eating.  During the week, Jews who observe the holiday will not eat bread products and a number of other foods that are not “kosher for passover”

we eat bitter herbs to remind us of the bitterness of being slaves
we eat charroset (nuts and wine mixed together) to remind us of the mortar used to build the pyramid bricks
we eat eggs for springtime (dipped in saltwater for tears)

HOORAY FOR FREEDOM! HOORAY FOR SCHOOL! HOORAY FOR ADAM SANDLER! 

Topic: cookbook philosophy

I had an amazing conversation last night w/ one of my best friend’s from college, I mean, AMAZING.  It was the type of conversation that only people our age and in lives very similar to ours would have, and that was the point.  We both realized together what we had been realizing alone, the sensation of entering into a new stage of life.

My friend made a comment, “from 0 – 18, you’re always looking up, looking forward.  Now, for the first time, we’re able to look back with some objectivity.  To see just how 15 we were at 15, how 20 we were at 20, and when we’re older, we’ll look back and see just how 24/25 we are now.” 

Our lives have paralleled each others a lot since we both met my junior year, my friend’s sophomore year.  He had just transferred from GW and was on my floor.  We both had similar breakdowns in college, my friend’s having to do with his love of music, and his decision to make that the focus of his studies.

After college, both my friend and I pursued untraditional interests, myself with outdoor education and writing, my friend moving to Boston to pursue his passion for music.  We were both mildly successful, and also fell wildly short of our ultimate aims.  We’ve both experienced highs and lows, and at times similar stomach illnesses that we have concluded were brought about from mental stress.

And last night, we both came to similar realizations about our lives, and our minds.  We both decided that while it’s healthy to set goals, it’s not necessarily healthy to make those goals the center of all life.  My friend said, “I’ve also been wanting to write a book about all my thoughts on life.  But I only want to write it if I enjoy it.  If it’s stressing me out, then I don’t care if I finish it, because that would defeat the point.”  Which struck me particularly hard as I’ve been stressing somewhat about things I want to write. 

There’s a cookbook quote we discussed, “Perfection gets in the way of good enough.”  I’m not sure what I think about it still, since who wants to settle for good enough?  But that is the point; To be more accepting of life.  And at that moment, just when I felt like I needed to come up with a better quote, I laughed and said, “I guess that’s good enough.”

I’ve been reflecting also on teaching, as I am considering going into that profession.  Despite writing A LOT about “what’s wrong w/ schooling” and “how to make schooling better,” having spoken with several people who are currently teachers, I’ve realized that the reality is that I am just as likely to be a kiddie cop as I am a teacher.  And what will I teach?  I will teach what I can about this part of the curriculum or this interesting fact or skill, but will likely spend most of my day dealing with kids running around, talking out loud, causing trouble, etc. 

Shouldn’t my low expectations of what teaching and school is make me want to take back all my views on education?  Maybe some of them.  My views on schooling are changing as my situation is.  I now see school as such a small part of a person’s life, and so is a teacher.  You simply play your role the best you can.  You forget about perfection, and aim for good enough.

I’m re-reading Fahrenheit 451, and the issue that this book is getting me to think about is the idea of “normal.”  The book describes a world in which books are illegal, where firefighters are paid to burn down houses that contain these illegal books, and where thought and discussion at any level is looked at as mentally ill.  I’ve resisted the instinct to say, “Wow…that’s scary how close this resembles the world today,” as it is just a caraciture of life.  And still, I’ve resisted the isntinct to say, “What a sad world this is.”  Sad because it’s far from perfect?  It all seems somewhat relative, how we think of our cultures.  In 100 or 200 years, clearly people will look back and criticize the year 2006, but from our present-day situation we’re basically stuck with what we have. 

For example, say you’re in a rut in life.  Hate your job, can’t find someone you love, bills are piling up.  Someone can say that things are going to work out, and they may or may not, and ultimately, you may or may not have control over that.  So, the best you can do is say, “right now is the best it is,” even though you know it’s not perfect.  You’re left with the cookbook philosophy, I guess it’s just good enough.

But what of activists?  What of a better world?  What of injustice, of hate, of violence, of human rights?  What of community, and family, and leisure, and mental health?  What of, “this isn’t perfect, this isn’t even good enough?”

I guess my thoughts on that is that there are two worlds we live in.  The WORLD, meaning the modern world we live in.  Then there’s our private worlds.  Our individual lives, family, and friends.  Just like writing a book, one must be content with their individual world if they are to address the world at large.  Think about John Kerry, and how it must be to know that he might have shaped the world a bit more in a positive way (key word being “might”), but now he’s a historical footnote.  Still, his life can be good enough.  Or take someone facing starvation in Africa.  With their faith, even their lives can be good enough to them, although the WORLD knows that this is not good enough.

Topic: thougts and pictures

yet another strike in NYC, this time it’s the construction workers next door to my building.  In less than 1yr. in NYC, I’ve learned quite a bit about the labor movement, and have become more aware of work as a concept.  It’s a unifying concept, in which I can actually relate to a street cleaner and a baseball player, and sort out the obvious differences between all three of us.

Billy Donovan, the coach of the NCAA basketball champion Florida Gators, grew up in my hometown of Rockville Centre (other notables to come out of my hometown include Howard Stern and Dave Attell from Comedy Central’s Insomniac).  Watching him speak during the tournament, I get a sense of a person who understood the game inside and out.  He was a very technical person, not very emotional, and even after they won the national championship, from his face and his words, you wouldn’t know it.  He made a comment about how he didn’t want this to be considered the crowning achievement in his life, rather he simply wanted to impact as many lives as possible in a positive way.  Next season, there would be a new group of players that were there looking to be pushed equally as hard as this year’s team.  What also struck me about this story was Donovan’s age, 40.  This struck me because it reminded me that great achievements often come later in life, and often come only after years of development and failure. 

Brian Bannister is a rookie pitcher for the NY Mets, who made his Major League debut last night.  He pitched a no-hitter through 5 1/3 innings, and left the game that inning with a 4-3 lead (which the Mets, as they do so wonderfully, squandered in the 9th inning).  Brian is 25, only 5 months older than myself.  At one point I dreamt about playing ball for the Mets, but as a young kid I knew it was completely a dream.  Now that the Major Leagues are full of people my age, I have this sensation that pipe dreams don’t come true like winning the lottery, they come true from years of pursuit.  At this point, Brian is just a rookie, the fact that he plays professional baseball not all the remarkable.  Sure, he’s pulling in over $300,000 and only has to work about 1-day per week, along with a wide-range of other perks that come with his job, but there’s no question that this kid (I say kid because i’ll always consider my peers to be kids), has probably run the gauntlet in terms of overcoming doubts about living this dream.  Like Billy Donovan, I’m sure Brian won’t ever feel complete until he wins a World Series ring, and even then, there will be more to do.

So, I take comfort in the lives and work of others.  Sports Illustrated has an article on Roberto Clemente I’m meaning to read, about his efforts with the poor and helping victims of natural disasters in Central Amerca. 

This is Studs Terkel, who wrote a book called “Working,” also on my reading list.  Besides having a cool name, he was interested in the lives of people, from prison inmates to the well-off.  If I was paid to be a writer, I’d extend this post longer, but the job beckons.

here’s a couple of pictures from the BBC of young people in France, voicing their opinions on a new labor law. 

and here’s the home of a Florida tomato picker, Guadalupe Gonzalez only $1400/mo. divided by 6 people of course.

Guadalupe hangin’ lose!

the dan man hangin’ lose, w/ Kiff Allen from NYC Outward Bound

and now some more assorted photos from the NYC travel meet-up site

Isabel, Sheldon, Mr. Belvedere, and myself, enjoying the brew and figuring out how to take over the world

Topic: building a network

because when it all comes down to it, who you know and who you’re friends with is what matters most in life.  I have been on the periphary of several netorks for a while, outdoor groups, kayaking, experiential educators, alternative educators, political groups, travel groups, beer groups, sports groups, my family group, mental health groups, social networking groups. 

Recently, i e-mailed a law professor who had a letter published in the NYT about the college admissions hysteria, and we had some interesting e-mails back and forth.  It’s time to take advantage of those things, opportunities everywhere.  Find unusual connections.

With April on its way, I am optimistic for the next 7 months of warm weather and long days.  I am looking forward to being a baseball fanatic like I haven’t really been since I was little, following all 162 mets games, falling asleep to them with the radio on, anticipating the score in the paper in the morning.  Central Park bursting with people, opportunities to chomp through some books, get a laptop and start writing from anywhere at anytime.  Become obsessed again w/ kayaking.

I was recently reading about “anecdotal evidence,” since I was thinking about most arguments I make being from experience rather than scientific.  This led me to a site about deductive reasoning, which jarred loose a childhood memory of doing this logic puzzles, where there’s a series of boxes down:

Jane
Dave
Chris
Laura

and then boxes across

teacher
doctor
engineer
writer

and then you get clues like, Jane is not an engineer, and Chris is in a profession that works with patients. 

That sort of thing, and you have to puzzle together what everyone does.  The memory was totally jarred lose by something so little.  Amazing.

Topic: Writing and writers

I’m not a writer.  Not right now.  I’ve been one in the past, and I’m warming up to be one again.  I was reading an article in a writing magazine about people coming out as writers.  The concern many people have is of appearing to be saying, “I’m a ballplayer for the New York Mets,” and then having people realize that, in fact, you are nothing close to that.  To say that one is a writer, comes with the pressure of comparing oneself to other writers.  To the John Grisham’s, Dan Brown’s, the Hemmingway’s. 

But being a writer is not like being a professional athlete.  For me, writing is just something I do.  It mostly takes the form of journaling, blogging, and then in more traditional methods as article writing.  In claiming to be a writer, I personally face this internal dialogue that tells me I’m lying to myself, that I can never be and will never be a writer, and another voice that realizes that I have a false idea of what it means to be a writer.  I forget that a 6-year old and a 60-year old, both picking up the pen for the first time to write, are writers. 

As I have battled off-and-on with this idea of being a writer, and writing books, I have rarely allowed myself to enter the community of people who are just like me.  Maybe I have wanted to enjoy the uniqueness of this position, when compared to those I know who don’t write.  But, the world is full of writers and books, and I now feel as though there is a welcome and open community for me to be a part of.

While returning home from the city last night, I bought a copy of a writing magazine, called Writer’s Digest.  There were a few things in the magazine that caught my eye, and I decided to enter that community of people who buys magazines.  Usually, I scan any number of magazines, but if I ended up buying everyone I was interested in, I’d be broke in a day.  But I felt that it was ok to pay for this magazine.  In some way, I felt it was symbolic.

Buy buying a writing magazine, I felt a bit more like a writer.  This isn’t the same as someone buying a fitness magazine and then thinking themselves in shape.  But I really haven’t spent much time talking to writers, and listening to writers, and so I found comfort in the articles in this magazine.

I found writers discussing their self-doubts, and an article on self-publishing as a legitimate alternative to traditional publishing.  The magazine itself took the format of a college class, much the same as my blog did a few months ago.  Chapters were titled, “orientation,” “majors, minors and electives,” “guidance counselor” and “commencement.” 

Not surprisingly, the magazine itself inspired me to write.  It reminded me that I have some uncontroversial topics to write about, a nice break from trying to tackle society and culture.  It’s a hobby, rather than a cause.

I believe I’ve passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage
I found that just surviving was a noble fight.
I once believed in causes too,
I had my pointless point of view,
And life went on no matter who was wrong or right.

These are Billy Joel lyrics from the song Angry Young Man.  As some of you may have noticed, I enjoy making various connections from things I encounter in life, and after hearing this song recently, these words really jumped out on me.  Surviving is a noble fight…I think I can embrace that too.

So I am now looking forward to being a writer.  Not as a profession, but in the same way that someone who runs marathons can be a teacher full-time.  I look forward to researching my topics, to putting together articles for others to read.  To address causes, but maybe in a more lyrical way, aware of my own righteous rage.

topic: so i wrote this book

and it’s about helping anxious people calm down, and helping depressed people to chear up.

You see, the world most of us live in, requires a lot of calm and chear to survive.  There’s a million things to be anxious about, and that’s a good thing to some point.  Without anxiety driving chemicals through our body, our loafing would catch up w/ us and we’d get eaten by hippos or whatever animal is next to take over society.  So anxiety is alright, but at some point we end up eating ourselves with anxiety, literally stressing ourselves to the point that we begin to break ourselves down.

But get to mellow, and you begin to lose the edge that you need.  You start working backwards, drawing inwards, feeling sorry for your existence.  And that’s no fun. 

I just got an e-mail from a stressed out Chinese kid who is applying to Wash U.  He got waitlisted, and is in a panic for what to do.  I need to help calm this anxious kid down, and cheer him up less he go all hikikomori on me, like millions of other Chinese who lock themselves in their rooms for years, afraid to face the outside world.

Don’t be anxious about the success race, because it’s not the only race you can win.  But don’t start acting like nothing matters, because if you sacrifice all your ideas of success, and do the whole hikikomori thing, you’ll find yourself back in an anxiety mess there too.

So that’s what this whole writing deal was ’bout.  Fuck anxiety, fuck depression.  Not entirely though, we need to keep them around enough that they give us something to bitch about, which is half the fun in life.  But none of this whining, I’m crippled by the world shit.  Especially not because of school. 

**special note, this tone of this article is pleasant, the use of the curse words fuck more like a friend telling a friend to not stress the bullshit, as opposed to angry young man yelling those words.

Topic: eyes, ears, mind

Staring at a computer screen, I can look outside and see it’s warm out.  Office full of construction noises from outside.  David Sedaris book, “Me talk pretty one day,” on my desk, next to a yellow note pad I use for taking messages.  Beside that a BBC article I printed about the French protests.

Excitement bubbles over-me, as I read an article quoting a European economist who blames part of the unemployment crisis in France, as well as the precarious feeling that the working world is an unstable place, on higher education.  It drives me to want to learn so much more about this topic, and to keep searching out these people.  Like an artist, I am craving recognition.

Reading David Sedaris’ memoir, I get a sense that the want of recognition is one of the great struggles people face.  For David, he turned to conceptual art, doing speed, and scoffing at anyone who couldn’t appreciate his efforts as an artist to capture life in his display of himself shaving his head on stage.

I consider myself fortunate to not be that much of an artist, but it is a constant struggle to capture the absurdities of culture.  I would laugh more if I did not find myself suffering from it, but I do believe that the environment is not fully responsible for my mood.  My mood can fluctuate in 5min. based on a co-worker simply stopping by to have a discussion about a topic that interests me, and slam shut when things seem like a Dilbert cartoon.

Then, I just turn off the thinking part of my mind and see and hear what is real.  Black computer screen, black telephone, world map, metal mail slots, gold door stop with the grey button sort of thing that keeps the doornob from smashing through the wall. 

Yes…it is Friday.  Awaiting me is a cold beer or two, possibly a hike, reading, writing, phone, calls, movies.  Lazy in my own way.