My goal with this blog was really to let it cool for a while and kind of reset with writing about current events. I found that too often of late I was writing things far too past tense for my liking. While, indeed, everything I write on here is past tense, otherwise this would be an equally inconsequential psychic blog, there's a difference between saying "last weekend this happened" and "this happened about a month ago. Incidentally, I was planning to start up the blog again after I attended 7th or 8th (really should've saved the ticket stubs) DMB show on Tuesday, giving me something both current and classic (in the sense that I've listened to those guys forever) to write about, but I've received a very rare Yesternow request, all of which I try to honor, to write about my play being performed. I have less to say about that at this point than maybe I should, but this is a chance to complete a perhaps overdue miscellaneous post prior to Tuesday's show.
Again, this took place well over a month ago, so excuse my skimming, it's not exactly all a blur, but obviously it's not as fresh as it once was. I can't speak about the play without mentioning the week before when Steve Murillo blew into PA on a train in which we have many a memory. It was great to see him again for the first time in months, which is pretty significant considering we grew up in the same town and by genuine accident, wound up going to the same college (I decided first, for the record) and out of convenience and not wanting to risk the crap chute that is the freshman roommate pool, lived together for what turned out to be four years. It's amazing what kind of a bond is between us now that I'm sure to which a great many people can relate. Living with someone for any extended period of time is going to have its ups and downs and Steve and I were certainly no exception to that rule, but I look back on that time now and realize there's no one I'd rather have made the journey with and it's genuinely amazing how much deeper and stronger our friendship is as a result.
Over the years, like with most friends, Steve and I have developed a sort of shorthand communication with each other that centers around inside jokes, and at this point, kind of just body language and different grunts, which is a little scary. I only bring up the previous paragraphs to give Steve a bit of a nod, but also to provide some perspective on how long it had been since we'd seen each other. Anyway, what I've taken three paragraphs to say is that I recall three separate instances during our time with our friends in York where the room kind of stopped what it was doing and just kind of stared at Steve's and my semi-alcohol fueled gibberish and, I can only imagine, wondered what else was in the can we were sipping. Our only response was, "its been awhile." I certainly look forward to catching up with him again, even at the expense of some more quizzical looks.
Fast forward to the following weekend and it was showtime. Friends and family from all over the area came into York for the premiere, if you will, including some friends from my then workplace, Lord Baltimore and Lauren, Jamin and Brit, Sharnell and Jess, the illustrious Gloves, my parents, and too many others to name that were still on campus. Also, a bunch of cats out of the area called to wish me well. It meant a lot that they took the time to share the experience with me.
The show itself was phenomenal, to see something you wrote with (obviously) your own vision come to life and notice those subtle differences where cast and director make the play their own is immensely intriguing. I think the most rewarding feeling was the fact that people seemed to like it. I realize that I'm kind of on an island with a lot of my humor. Rich Arleo said it best the other day when he said, the little obscure things that people chuckle at tear you up." I was a little concerned that my wordplay and reference centered humor wouldn't translate well to a stage accustomed to plays centered around swear words, Twilight, and York references. Turns out people dug the show just fine and to hear them laugh as hard as I did/was was a real confidence boost.
Now, I've been fortunate enough to do my fair share of performing with music and acting throughout my years and the praise I've gotten from that has been humbling and (let's be honest) feels awesome, I'm only human. With that said, to have people pull me aside to compliment my writing in various fashions and ways probably one of the best feelings of my life. To have my writing acknowledged by circles outside of my friends and writing was absolutely unreal and kind of a dream come true. I won't be getting into specifics, but I will mention one instance where someone was talking about the show with Doug Forrester and saying how much they liked it and it was uniquely funny etc. and Doug said something to the effect of "Yeah, Poli's a pretty... pretty funny guy. I can only imagine the kind of humor that's in that... in that play" in a tone that was neither derogatory or complimentary. That was one of those "obscure" humor moments that tore me up.
Back to the present, upon my arrival home, I was pretty fortunate to land a job as a waiter at a local restaurant. As relieved as I was to have work, it turns out that most of the business they received was at the bar rather than at tables. I had days where I went into work and had no tables, which meant that I was essentially working all day (about a collective hour of which, I admit, I spent standing around) for about 20 bucks. I have next to nothing bad to say about the experience and my bosses, and if life were all loyalty, I'd have stayed there to help them out as a thank you for the opportunity, but the bottom line is that I'm no longer 16 and have bills to pay. Unfortunately, I had to leave the job upon getting another one at the local Stop and Shop (where the money is at least consistent). Until two months ago, I'd never left a job until the seasonal work was done, or the place was out of business and suddenly I've left two jobs in as many months. It was a strange feeling to have to leave the restaurant out of necessity. We did, of course, cut ties on good terms, but nonetheless, I've never left a job where they physically kind of needed me there and I couldn't reciprocate that feeling. I feel terrible about the situation. It was kind of one of the few decisions I've had to make to kind of be selfish and look out for myself. As much as I feel bad, there was no other decision to be made.
So, I've moved on to Stop and Shop, where you see the best, worst and strangest in people. To be honest, the job is a little tedious, but the time flies and in my opinion, it's kind of everything you could want in a job that's not going to become your career. With the exception of screwing up one of the three checks I've been given at the register and taking a day and a half to ring up a balloon because the customer was gripping it by the proper bar code. (One of those moments where I gave her a heck of a look that said "C'mon lady, I know that's on me, but you could have met me halfway on that one.") the job is going well, and at the risk of sounding complacent, I'm kind of content with riding out this job and my camp gig until September before hopefully moving to round 2 with the real world college degree job. As I mentioned, I see some spectacles in there that I'm sure will inspire many a post in the future.
It's a great gig where you get to vibe with people a bit, I had a great conversation with the black guy who popped in and we somehow we got caught up in a running joke about making sure the bags stayed kosher and we both laughed near to tears leaving these two high school girls (and this guy's wife) to look at us like we were nuts. Then there was one kid who was a little old to be sitting in the shopping cart and when it comes time to pack the cart with the groceries, his mother tells me to "pack around him" so I'm literally stacking various perishable foods around and eventually on this kid while he's indifferently playing his game boy. Strange.
Then there was nearly a fight on my line when this one woman kept asking me questions while not helping me bag the groceries I'd been scanning. The woman to here right suddenly legit shouts "Jesus Christ, let's go!" For a brief moment, I thought she was yelling at me and Lord knows what I would have done as I'm fielding this woman's rather inane questions. It turns out she was pissed at the questioner for not helping me bag was seeing red because this woman was leaving me to do all the work (not that it's hard) and on top of that kept interrupting me. Fortunately, the other woman (out of fear, I'm positive) ignored the situation and went about her day eventually, but I almost got caught up spectating as these women came to blows. The woman after the questioner wished me luck as she helped me bag and was a lot more ticked by the lack of help than I was. Nonetheless, I appreciate the support.
Finally, on what turned out to be my last day of training, I'm paired with this woman who seems nice enough, but really didn't say much. Partially, I think, because while not really the fastest yet, I largely knew what I was doing at the register, and partially for lack of social caring. Anyway I'm checking away and out of the corner of my eye, I notice this woman getting whiter and whiter. It was like the opposite of tanning. I keep glancing over intermittently and, lo and behold, after a couple of minutes I hear the wretch and splash that can only mean one thing. This woman has hurled. This has, embarrassingly enough, happened in front of everyone, including my superiors, so I don't feel the need to report that this has taken place. I just kind stare at the scene for a couple seconds and then resume checking the items. I resist every impulse I've ever had and DON'T call out "clean up on aisle five!" A true test of self-control, by the way. (I figure I'll wait until I'm in the union to make those jokes) and carry on as usual. About 20 minutes later, a manager comes by and seems shocked that I'm working by myself and she says she had no idea no one had stepped in for the fallen soldier and as a result, I no longer had to train. You know the old adage, one woman's misfortune is another man's ticket to his own register password.
Special edition post tomorrow. Other than that, see you Wednesday.
Song of the Day: Don't Forget-Brett Dennen
Jazz Song of the Day: Turning Into Blue-Gretchen Parlato
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
The Chicks I Dig are Flakes
The title is irrelevant, though true, just to warn you. I will likely change it eventually, but nothing immediately comes to mind and this ought to get me some impulse reads.
Boy oh boy, it feels strange to set down again to muse in this medium for the sake of musing. A great deal of my absence can be contributed, in part, to the tolls of a 7:45-5:15 writing-centric workday taking the buzz out of sitting down to type for a bit. The remaining blame can be given to my lack of cable and no real means of tracking the NBA to the extent that I'm accustomed. I feel like I've said that monologue before, but it kind of bears repeating, I suppose.
Anyway, when my grandfather passed away, (I swear this is not a bring-you-down post) I kind of wrote a blog post following the actual passing and proceedings that didn't refer to that tough time, just to kind of keep my posts chronological, even in tone, and mercifully short(er). Well now, I'm going to do the opposite and write about my recent exodus from the Amish-land in this post and scribe a separate post that will take you through my past two weekends in York, full of lifelong memories.
Right, for those not in the loop, and those coming to the latent realization that the previous paragraph did indeed say that I have left Pennsylvania... I have left Pennsylvania. To put it really simply, my time at Clark Associates was among the most growing times in my life. Through that job, I learned much about the true nature of the professional post-grad environment, gained true post college independence in terms of living truly alone and fending for myself during the highs and lows and day-to-day issues of said independence, and learned a lot about my own character and what I want out of a work environment and job description going forward.
In short, while I met some great, supportive, and welcoming people, the job just wasn't a fit for me. I think the nature of a retail environment in general, is kind of a "be quiet and perform" kind of place. Don't get me wrong, I believe in a work-first-and-hard-play-later-and-harder atmosphere (Just to be clear, by "play harder" I mean play basketball, read, and listen to jazz, while spending time with friends and catching a buzz about once every two weeks. I don't want people thinking I've suddenly become some sort of party animal), but I think an environment where you can literally count on your fingers the amount of words you say to your co-workers is, right off the bat, not really my scene. I was not, by any stretch, failing at the job. I will admit that I did screw-up pretty boneheaded-ly on one occasion, but overall, I was really doing okay with the job, considering my experience level. With that said, it just got to a point where I was drained before I even walked into the building most days.
I will say that I believe another reason the job kind of wore on me was not so much that it was a high-pressure job, but it was also that I was kind of socially living for the weekends. Don't get me wrong, "lonely" is a strong word. I definitely met some great people in my excursions in the Lanc, and even found a watering hole (also mentioned previously) where I was known on a semi-first-name basis (Godspell didn't catch on, thank...God.), but I don't think I ever had enough of a support system or important enough activity schedule to kind of truly take my mind off the job. So, in a sense, I was going to work, coming home and thinking about work while trading basketball opinions with some nice enough people at the bar, and shooting some hoops every now and again. After a while, the repetition just took its toll and I realized that I needed to make a change. I thought for a good week about what my next step would be and finally decided to talk with my boss to let him know where my head was at.
I told him a lot about what I thought of the job, obviously not as much about my leisure time, but he agreed that the particular brand of stress brought about by this retail work environment strongly conflicted with my personality and kind of nullified some of my social and creative strengths. Much to my surprise, that was about as unflattering as the conversation got. He noted my work ethic and talent that I did posess and admired my accountablity and desire to succeed. It was then that I kind of took the conversation down the road I knew we were on and essentially said that I could no longer look him in the eye and say that this company and business is a good fit for me. We then spoke some more and he said some really moving things that I'd rather keep private (not that we wept in each other's arms or anything, but it was a very human moment that I'll always remember) and I formally gave my notice and he thanked me for giving it a shot and let me know that if I needed a referral, he'd be happy to write it. To be honest, that meant more to me than anything else said before in that conference room. I was working in a field where people would tell you if you were dirt without blinking an eye. The fact that in the face of that atmosphere, I was offered a positive word whenever I needed, meant worlds to me as a person and professional. I admit, it's very rewarding to know that my character was apparent in that place. It never crossed my mind that I was leaving as a failure, but any doubts I did have were wiped clean in that moment.
As I've basically already said, in the past two months I have grown as a man by leaps and bounds. I'm back on Long Island not entirely knowing what my next step will be, but I feel as equipped to take on that question mark as I've ever been in my whole life. You know, I thought I meant this after I got my college diploma, but now this statement takes on an even deeper meaning: Bring on the months of waiting tables or working at Stop and Shop. I can look anyone dead in the face and say that I have absolutely nothing to prove. I acknowledge the fact that I had the 8 to 5 life in my grasp and said "no thank you" but I also know that I've taken one step back as a wiser man to hopefully take that much bigger of a step forward.
I thank absolutely everyone at Clark Associates for their help, support, patience, and kindness during my time there. I wish you all the best and thank you for the positive impact on my life and experience I'll never forget. Also, a thank you to my friends and family for their support and sharing in the tough, but right, decision with me.
In closing, my favorite Clark memory will always be Jake scolding the spider and Emily swooping in with a less forgiving stapler.
Posts about my previous two weekends to follow, including a visit from a man who knows what my boxers look like better than most, Steve Murillo, and a bit of theatrical history.
Song of the Day: She's Electric-Oasis
Jazz Song of the Day: November-Noah Preminger
Boy oh boy, it feels strange to set down again to muse in this medium for the sake of musing. A great deal of my absence can be contributed, in part, to the tolls of a 7:45-5:15 writing-centric workday taking the buzz out of sitting down to type for a bit. The remaining blame can be given to my lack of cable and no real means of tracking the NBA to the extent that I'm accustomed. I feel like I've said that monologue before, but it kind of bears repeating, I suppose.
Anyway, when my grandfather passed away, (I swear this is not a bring-you-down post) I kind of wrote a blog post following the actual passing and proceedings that didn't refer to that tough time, just to kind of keep my posts chronological, even in tone, and mercifully short(er). Well now, I'm going to do the opposite and write about my recent exodus from the Amish-land in this post and scribe a separate post that will take you through my past two weekends in York, full of lifelong memories.
Right, for those not in the loop, and those coming to the latent realization that the previous paragraph did indeed say that I have left Pennsylvania... I have left Pennsylvania. To put it really simply, my time at Clark Associates was among the most growing times in my life. Through that job, I learned much about the true nature of the professional post-grad environment, gained true post college independence in terms of living truly alone and fending for myself during the highs and lows and day-to-day issues of said independence, and learned a lot about my own character and what I want out of a work environment and job description going forward.
In short, while I met some great, supportive, and welcoming people, the job just wasn't a fit for me. I think the nature of a retail environment in general, is kind of a "be quiet and perform" kind of place. Don't get me wrong, I believe in a work-first-and-hard-play-later-and-harder atmosphere (Just to be clear, by "play harder" I mean play basketball, read, and listen to jazz, while spending time with friends and catching a buzz about once every two weeks. I don't want people thinking I've suddenly become some sort of party animal), but I think an environment where you can literally count on your fingers the amount of words you say to your co-workers is, right off the bat, not really my scene. I was not, by any stretch, failing at the job. I will admit that I did screw-up pretty boneheaded-ly on one occasion, but overall, I was really doing okay with the job, considering my experience level. With that said, it just got to a point where I was drained before I even walked into the building most days.
I will say that I believe another reason the job kind of wore on me was not so much that it was a high-pressure job, but it was also that I was kind of socially living for the weekends. Don't get me wrong, "lonely" is a strong word. I definitely met some great people in my excursions in the Lanc, and even found a watering hole (also mentioned previously) where I was known on a semi-first-name basis (Godspell didn't catch on, thank...God.), but I don't think I ever had enough of a support system or important enough activity schedule to kind of truly take my mind off the job. So, in a sense, I was going to work, coming home and thinking about work while trading basketball opinions with some nice enough people at the bar, and shooting some hoops every now and again. After a while, the repetition just took its toll and I realized that I needed to make a change. I thought for a good week about what my next step would be and finally decided to talk with my boss to let him know where my head was at.
I told him a lot about what I thought of the job, obviously not as much about my leisure time, but he agreed that the particular brand of stress brought about by this retail work environment strongly conflicted with my personality and kind of nullified some of my social and creative strengths. Much to my surprise, that was about as unflattering as the conversation got. He noted my work ethic and talent that I did posess and admired my accountablity and desire to succeed. It was then that I kind of took the conversation down the road I knew we were on and essentially said that I could no longer look him in the eye and say that this company and business is a good fit for me. We then spoke some more and he said some really moving things that I'd rather keep private (not that we wept in each other's arms or anything, but it was a very human moment that I'll always remember) and I formally gave my notice and he thanked me for giving it a shot and let me know that if I needed a referral, he'd be happy to write it. To be honest, that meant more to me than anything else said before in that conference room. I was working in a field where people would tell you if you were dirt without blinking an eye. The fact that in the face of that atmosphere, I was offered a positive word whenever I needed, meant worlds to me as a person and professional. I admit, it's very rewarding to know that my character was apparent in that place. It never crossed my mind that I was leaving as a failure, but any doubts I did have were wiped clean in that moment.
As I've basically already said, in the past two months I have grown as a man by leaps and bounds. I'm back on Long Island not entirely knowing what my next step will be, but I feel as equipped to take on that question mark as I've ever been in my whole life. You know, I thought I meant this after I got my college diploma, but now this statement takes on an even deeper meaning: Bring on the months of waiting tables or working at Stop and Shop. I can look anyone dead in the face and say that I have absolutely nothing to prove. I acknowledge the fact that I had the 8 to 5 life in my grasp and said "no thank you" but I also know that I've taken one step back as a wiser man to hopefully take that much bigger of a step forward.
I thank absolutely everyone at Clark Associates for their help, support, patience, and kindness during my time there. I wish you all the best and thank you for the positive impact on my life and experience I'll never forget. Also, a thank you to my friends and family for their support and sharing in the tough, but right, decision with me.
In closing, my favorite Clark memory will always be Jake scolding the spider and Emily swooping in with a less forgiving stapler.
Posts about my previous two weekends to follow, including a visit from a man who knows what my boxers look like better than most, Steve Murillo, and a bit of theatrical history.
Song of the Day: She's Electric-Oasis
Jazz Song of the Day: November-Noah Preminger
Monday, April 2, 2012
He Who Covers All His Bases Runs Nowhere
Every city is static, every planet a barstool.
A couple of weekends ago, my family took the time to toil on the soil of Lancaster and check out my digs of work, play, and miscellaneous. It was solid to see them and show them around as best I could. However, old habits, it seems, die hard. I met my parents in York for perhaps one last time as I had the chance to check out Courtney and Renee's recital and my family, always one for culture and the advancement of the arts, was kind enough to join me. It was great to see some friends to sprinkled in the audience, but mostly it was tremendous to hear Renee and Courtney perform in their own element. Admittedly, due to a mixture of apathy and WVYC commitments, with the exception of the "rugged" performance of "Elijah" I hadn't much heard either one of the lovely ladies sing tunes of the comfortable confines of the melopop provided by Rhapsody. It was a real pleasure to hear their performance for more refined audiences and they both really did a great job.
Following the show, I bolted pretty quickly to seize as much of the day as possible in Lancaster with the folks. I actually had a nice little day planned for us, but intermittant rain forced us to doctor our plans a bit. The weather did anything but cooperate, as it was rainy at best throughout the duration of the visit. Plans to visit the Central Market were ruined, and Marion Court was a shell of itself in the gloom of clouds and drizzles, but nonetheless I think I showed them I live a pretty modest, but active life here in Amish country.
The night of their arrival, I wound up spending the night in their hotel and it seems that life in the Lanc got a little too active. Apparently, while I was away, a now former-roommate with a questionable past fell in with some old friends and old habits and wound up making quite a mess for himself. When I arrived with family in tow the next morning, you could tell something was up, but my current housemates and even the guy who I later found out was in the process of being evicted kept everything really mellow, I guess, out of respect for me and my family. I really do appreciate that. The only reason I even knew something was up was because there was an uncommon amount of traffic upstairs where I live. That's usually a place that's pretty much visitor free, unless I'm the one letting them up. I wish the guy the best in getting back on his feet and I only bring this up to point out the extremes of good and...not evil...(at least not in this case) I guess, thoughtlessness? that people are capable of. A really strange moment in hindsight. A lot of layers to it.
One spot I did venture to show my family in the safety of the light of day was my weekday watering hole known as the House of Pizza, where we dared to nosh a bit while Baylor was getting its camouflaged teeth kicked in by America's favorite uni-brow and the rest of the Wildcats. No hiding from that I suppose.
Shortly after halftime of that game, which might as well have been the final buzzer, I said goodbye and after catching up on the subtle commotion of the early mid-morning and adjusting to life alone on the top floor once again, I headed back to the House to watch the second game. When I entered, Jeremiah, the kindly bartender, pulled me aside and said, "Man, you're lucky this place was dead when you brought your family in here." Truer words were never spoken and apparently I had dodged many a bullet that weekend.
In other news that I more or less broke sufficiently on Facebook so I'll provide the redux version here in the blog. As I was casually scrolling my rarely checked upon YCP email account, being paranoid enough to look in there about once a month to make sure something of importance hasn't slipped in like, you know, a complete revocation of my degree, I came across a hidden gem of an email that explained that my Western of a year ago had been selected to be performed in YCP's One Act Festival. I wasn't exactly doing back flips (I played it a little cooler), but I was and am definitely pumped to see Horseplay come to life with the help of talented actors and a director. I look forward to a special time with all of my friends in York as we see it together. I've learned that the three men who inspired three of the cowpoke in the piece will be setting aside their obligations to attend this Western Tour de Farce. A gesture that certainly means a lot to me. I look forward to all of my friends sharing this special moment with me and getting a glimpse into a more blue area of my sense of humor that rarely makes an appearance in my more typical social/comedic interactions. If you want to know more about the play, dig the Facebook event, or get in touch with me. I will leave you with this, the fundamental question of the piece is this: Did he fuck the horse, or not? Happy viewing.
In a turn of events that can only be categorized as surprising, I have missed the playoffs in both of my fantasy basketball leagues. In one league my top two picks were D. Rose and Al Horford, who, this season, make Greg Oden look like Cal Ripken. In my other league, the injury bug bit at a time I could ill afford and I wound up missing the playoffs by a game. I give myself credit for playing meaningful basketball late in the season considering I played the last 4 weeks without TV. Very important in fantasy and striking while the iron, and players, are hot. However, it's hard to view the season as anything but a disappointment considering I was the defending champ (when we played for free). All is not lost however, as I've had an uncommonly good run in the field of bracketology and stand to win the work pool with a Kentucky W tonight place in both leagues I have money vested in should Kansas eek one out. So, I'm taking the good with bad and essentially using my winnings to pay for my NBA blunders, with maybe money for a green tea or two when the dust settles.
Once again, happy viewing.
Dare I say, some poetry in the works? Stay tuned.
Song of the Day: "Son Of Sam"-Elliott Smith
Jazz Song of the Day: "St. Thomas"-Sonny Rollins
A couple of weekends ago, my family took the time to toil on the soil of Lancaster and check out my digs of work, play, and miscellaneous. It was solid to see them and show them around as best I could. However, old habits, it seems, die hard. I met my parents in York for perhaps one last time as I had the chance to check out Courtney and Renee's recital and my family, always one for culture and the advancement of the arts, was kind enough to join me. It was great to see some friends to sprinkled in the audience, but mostly it was tremendous to hear Renee and Courtney perform in their own element. Admittedly, due to a mixture of apathy and WVYC commitments, with the exception of the "rugged" performance of "Elijah" I hadn't much heard either one of the lovely ladies sing tunes of the comfortable confines of the melopop provided by Rhapsody. It was a real pleasure to hear their performance for more refined audiences and they both really did a great job.
Following the show, I bolted pretty quickly to seize as much of the day as possible in Lancaster with the folks. I actually had a nice little day planned for us, but intermittant rain forced us to doctor our plans a bit. The weather did anything but cooperate, as it was rainy at best throughout the duration of the visit. Plans to visit the Central Market were ruined, and Marion Court was a shell of itself in the gloom of clouds and drizzles, but nonetheless I think I showed them I live a pretty modest, but active life here in Amish country.
The night of their arrival, I wound up spending the night in their hotel and it seems that life in the Lanc got a little too active. Apparently, while I was away, a now former-roommate with a questionable past fell in with some old friends and old habits and wound up making quite a mess for himself. When I arrived with family in tow the next morning, you could tell something was up, but my current housemates and even the guy who I later found out was in the process of being evicted kept everything really mellow, I guess, out of respect for me and my family. I really do appreciate that. The only reason I even knew something was up was because there was an uncommon amount of traffic upstairs where I live. That's usually a place that's pretty much visitor free, unless I'm the one letting them up. I wish the guy the best in getting back on his feet and I only bring this up to point out the extremes of good and...not evil...(at least not in this case) I guess, thoughtlessness? that people are capable of. A really strange moment in hindsight. A lot of layers to it.
One spot I did venture to show my family in the safety of the light of day was my weekday watering hole known as the House of Pizza, where we dared to nosh a bit while Baylor was getting its camouflaged teeth kicked in by America's favorite uni-brow and the rest of the Wildcats. No hiding from that I suppose.
Shortly after halftime of that game, which might as well have been the final buzzer, I said goodbye and after catching up on the subtle commotion of the early mid-morning and adjusting to life alone on the top floor once again, I headed back to the House to watch the second game. When I entered, Jeremiah, the kindly bartender, pulled me aside and said, "Man, you're lucky this place was dead when you brought your family in here." Truer words were never spoken and apparently I had dodged many a bullet that weekend.
In other news that I more or less broke sufficiently on Facebook so I'll provide the redux version here in the blog. As I was casually scrolling my rarely checked upon YCP email account, being paranoid enough to look in there about once a month to make sure something of importance hasn't slipped in like, you know, a complete revocation of my degree, I came across a hidden gem of an email that explained that my Western of a year ago had been selected to be performed in YCP's One Act Festival. I wasn't exactly doing back flips (I played it a little cooler), but I was and am definitely pumped to see Horseplay come to life with the help of talented actors and a director. I look forward to a special time with all of my friends in York as we see it together. I've learned that the three men who inspired three of the cowpoke in the piece will be setting aside their obligations to attend this Western Tour de Farce. A gesture that certainly means a lot to me. I look forward to all of my friends sharing this special moment with me and getting a glimpse into a more blue area of my sense of humor that rarely makes an appearance in my more typical social/comedic interactions. If you want to know more about the play, dig the Facebook event, or get in touch with me. I will leave you with this, the fundamental question of the piece is this: Did he fuck the horse, or not? Happy viewing.
In a turn of events that can only be categorized as surprising, I have missed the playoffs in both of my fantasy basketball leagues. In one league my top two picks were D. Rose and Al Horford, who, this season, make Greg Oden look like Cal Ripken. In my other league, the injury bug bit at a time I could ill afford and I wound up missing the playoffs by a game. I give myself credit for playing meaningful basketball late in the season considering I played the last 4 weeks without TV. Very important in fantasy and striking while the iron, and players, are hot. However, it's hard to view the season as anything but a disappointment considering I was the defending champ (when we played for free). All is not lost however, as I've had an uncommonly good run in the field of bracketology and stand to win the work pool with a Kentucky W tonight place in both leagues I have money vested in should Kansas eek one out. So, I'm taking the good with bad and essentially using my winnings to pay for my NBA blunders, with maybe money for a green tea or two when the dust settles.
Once again, happy viewing.
Dare I say, some poetry in the works? Stay tuned.
Song of the Day: "Son Of Sam"-Elliott Smith
Jazz Song of the Day: "St. Thomas"-Sonny Rollins
Thursday, March 22, 2012
You Can Fill Almost Anything With Nuts
Firstly, a somber eulogy for my NBA writing of late. Quite honestly, work is partially to blame. Writing and staring at a computer screen for a literal 8 1/2 to 9 hours a day makes coming home to do more of it more of a chore than an escape. However, this is me we're talking about. We all know that I'd make time force the energy to crank some columns out. Simply put, I don't have cable and the last thing I want to do is base my own sports writing and opinions solely on the opinions of other sports writers. I read about the league avidly, and I get out to watch a game or two (or, pathetically enough, half, depending on how my 8 to 5:30 is treating me and whether I can stay awake) during the week, but I don't take it in nearly enough to have the kind of insight, and intellect to meet my own personal expectations for my NBA pieces. If I can't write the best material I'm capable of, I'm not going to force half-baked articles. I have too much respect for myself and the game.
With that said, I do have a Jeremy Lin article more or less complete, but by now it's outdated and likely won't see the light of Internet. Also, I think I'm still hip enough to the jive to analyze trade deadline moves, so I may well try whittle that out early next week. By mid-April, when I have some funds to wield, I'm hoping to invest in NBA League Pass online just in time for the playoff push. I definitely care too much about the game to let it slip away from me like it has the past few weeks.
Speaking of basketball, I've started going to a league on Monday nights. It's an indoor league, which came in handy while it was still cold, at this church about 20 minutes away. One of my co-workers was kind enough to put me on to the meeting and I've gone two of the three Mondays I was aware of it. The crowd is solid. It's a nice blend of skill levels and the cats there are competitive, but have a lot of fun with it. I'm really fortunate to have fallen into it. As I said, the games take place at a church and I think the league has kind of a tone of "God's community playing basketball" I don't know for sure if it's that kind of deal, but even if it is that's not really negative. I just notice that the in-game and post game chatter in not like some of the other pick up games I've hopped in on (not the "white boy can ball up in this bitch" that I got yesterday). There was also a point that I semi-shouted "shit" after throwing a bad pass and the place kind of got pretty quiet for a beat or two. It freaked me out a little bit considering the church, like a lot of things in PA, is in the middle of nowhere, you never know what can happen. With the exception of that minor linguistic hiccup, everyone has been really cool about getting to know me and vice versa and quite honestly, my game has been at a pretty high level of late (which surprises me, given my sedentary weekdays), which makes socializing on the court pretty easy.
One of the first things I set my mind to when I pulled in to the Lanc was to settle into a watering hole. On the evening I arrived, I asked my landlord where the Knicks were playing on TV. She answered, "The House of Pizza" and I haven't looked back since. Now, it's tough to paint a picture of this place. A very eccentric place where I'm usually the minority in about as many ways as you can think of, but the food is good and cheap, they play the games on TV, and I've had the pleasure of meeting some of the wildest characters. I've met some of my new friends there, too, don't get me wrong, but there are some nuts there, too. This one guy said "Boom, boom, boom" after every sip he took and sentence he spoke, I was hit on blatantly by two gay men (and no it's not that kind of bar) had a talk with this guy lamenting the fact that he just got convicted for his umpteenth DWI and was going to get jail time as he ordered his beer. I've also met a few new people I look forward to getting to know from a local college and traded life stories and philosophies with this train conductor, Tavis, which turned into one of the deepest conversations I've had in a long time. Simply put, for better or worse, there's no telling what you'll see or talk about when you head in there and I'm a fan of that element of surprise.
For a while, my Tuesday-Thursday evenings were looking pretty bleak, I admit. I even resorted to doing a full-fledged art project for the first time since I made Oscar the Grouch out of pipe cleaners last summer, but with the warm weather coming and me growing into my own socially around here at last, things are looking up. In addition, as I think I mentioned before, I'm going to start semi-frequenting a couple of weekly open mics to see if I can start performing poetry and music again. I miss that a great deal as well.
Weekend wise, I spend most time in York, I'm starting to have some people and places to see around here as well, which is exciting. Although, the weekend after my first week of work, when I decided to stay in Lancaster to see some people from work and Kevin, who was in the area, the already infamous Brickyard (your typical let's wear the tightest clothes we can and rub up against strangers on the dancefloor spot) claimed another victim as I lost my ID. Because of the way my wallet is laid out, (trust me on this one, I'm not as much of an idiot as it sounds like) I didn't even notice I'd lost it until a couple days later when I went to visit the equally infamous Jade in York and the.....sigh....infamous Murph's Study Hall. By the time I went retraced my steps over where I'd been that night, it was too late and I never found the ID and had to order a new one. To put it nicely, I felt like a horse's ass, especially because I was very sober on the night in question. During my time without an ID, I though of Jay not being able to take his SATs back in the day pretty often. The knowledge that someone out there has multiple forms of identification and is damn proud of it was the only humor and solace I found in an otherwise shite situation.
Ordinarily, other than naturally feeling like a moron for losing the thing on principle, I wouldn't care much that I didn't have the thing. I mean, it's not like I really drink that often and it would really just be a wasted 18 dollars to replace and a couple of weekends in less commercial hang out settings. However, I, in my infinite wisdom and good fortune lost my lone form of government issued photo ID during a time where I had to cash a check at bank that was not mine, the weekend of my birthday, and St. Patrick's day. Of course, the latter two are occasions where I kind of give myself the green light to dip into the sustination of inebriation, if you will.
Fortunately, after presenting a bank manager with pretty much everything but I signed note from my grandmother, including my social security card and old YCP card, I was able to cash my check and my birthday worked out well too.
I went down to York to see my good friend and former housemate, Rita's art show. She's a tremendous talent and it was awesome to see her work displayed all in one place. I admire her openness about some of her struggles and the positive attitude she maintains in spite of it. We all have our issues, but to present them so honestly while still in a way that people want to learn/hear/see more rather than separate themselves from it is intensely admirable and again, her work is great so it was a pleasure to see it and her, of course. The art show, as great as it was, wound up ending much earlier and with much less fanfare than I kind of expected, so I wound up driving over to the campus simply because it was too early too go back given the small but substantial trip I took to get there. When I got by the CPAC, I saw a sign that said "Dance Showcase" a figured what the heck? and walked in. Lo and behold, Rhapsody, decked out in some very fly new threads is performing on stage. You know I have to hang around now, so I take in the showcase and watch very talented people do dance moves that I would swear I'm capable of completing myself, but they never quite come out that way apparently. I catch up with the group after the show and wind up going to dinner with them (where I had the worst chili ever) and to a small party afterwards. Always great to see my good friends in Rhapsody and the was even a Poppyseed Sullivan sighting on the evening. As the clock struck midnight and my birthday began, they sang a little b-day ditty for me and we continued the carousing. Renee was kind enough to let me crash on her couch for the night and the next day I had the pleasure of seeing Nick Lynam's sax recital before meeting Sharnell and Brian for a wonderful birthday dinner. A very cultural weekend, if I do say so myself.
Times with Sharnell and Brian always feel worthy of a blog post in themselves. I can think of few other people I get around and laugh more constantly with. I thank them for spending the evening with me. A lone downside of the birthday had to be me accidentally making a small child cry. Apparently, he was staring at me pretty constantly ever since I walked in. I didn't know this and at one point made a very angry face out of jest and suddenly this poor kid to my left is wailing. Not since I knocked over that drink at the Tara Inn (almost reported in the Patch by Rich Arleo) did I feel so bad in the wake of being funny. Fortunately the kid relaxed and continued to watch me like a hawk. Needless to say, for the remainder of the night, I was extra cognisant of my surroundings.
This past weekend was St. Patrick's Day. Without an ID, hanging around here was out of the question and I didn't want to be the one guy in York who couldn't go to the bar. I didn't want to put my friends in the situation of having to stay with me, so I decided to make the trip to Eastern and visit my cousin. Eastern is a fine upstanding Christian school with about as much enthusiasm for St. Patrick's Day as Bosnia. Nonetheless, it was great to see Nick again and trade some stories and ideas the way we never really get the chance to when the family gets together. He seems like his head's on straight and he has good friends, which is all you can ask of a college experience. The institution itself seems a little tight and while I very much believe in God, I think they put a little too much emphasis in living God's way rather than finding your own. Personally, I don't see how you can invest yourself so fully in an idea without first knowing what it's like outside of it. Sean Gallagher put it best: If your religion doesn't leave you with as many questions as answers, your eyes are closed to something. "Eyes closed" is a bit of a vague analogy, but without its scapegoating powers, we're looking at a very different blog post. Just to be clear, I'm not painting my cousin with this broad brush, nor a lot of the people I met, just kind of the tone of the school as I gathered. We saw Project X together at the King of Prussia mall of speculative Phish lore (better movie than I thought, by the way) then we played some basketball with his friends the next day. A top notch visit in my opinion.
I got my ID in the mail yesterday, now that the birthday and St. Patty's are behind us. Regarding the job, I continue to get to know good people and find ways to brighten the days of myself and others while still working hard and staying humble. Like I said, I think my work ethic and ability to learn is apparent and this past week I had the ultimate chance to showcase my personality in a professional setting by writing a March Madness themed blog that has been well-received by friends and colleagues alike. Doing my best to bring some levity to the restaurant business, if that's what the powers that be are looking for, dare I say my future in the industry is bright.
I feel like this post is the equivalent of the first 50 pages of a novel where nothing really happens and they just kind of set the stage for the real action to start. Thank you for bearing with that as I skim and skip some stories and great times simply to give you all some context for future posts that I hope will come more often now that this grunt work is done.
Song of the Day: Rock N' Roll-Phish
Jazz Song of the Day: Winter Wind-Gretchen Parlato
With that said, I do have a Jeremy Lin article more or less complete, but by now it's outdated and likely won't see the light of Internet. Also, I think I'm still hip enough to the jive to analyze trade deadline moves, so I may well try whittle that out early next week. By mid-April, when I have some funds to wield, I'm hoping to invest in NBA League Pass online just in time for the playoff push. I definitely care too much about the game to let it slip away from me like it has the past few weeks.
Speaking of basketball, I've started going to a league on Monday nights. It's an indoor league, which came in handy while it was still cold, at this church about 20 minutes away. One of my co-workers was kind enough to put me on to the meeting and I've gone two of the three Mondays I was aware of it. The crowd is solid. It's a nice blend of skill levels and the cats there are competitive, but have a lot of fun with it. I'm really fortunate to have fallen into it. As I said, the games take place at a church and I think the league has kind of a tone of "God's community playing basketball" I don't know for sure if it's that kind of deal, but even if it is that's not really negative. I just notice that the in-game and post game chatter in not like some of the other pick up games I've hopped in on (not the "white boy can ball up in this bitch" that I got yesterday). There was also a point that I semi-shouted "shit" after throwing a bad pass and the place kind of got pretty quiet for a beat or two. It freaked me out a little bit considering the church, like a lot of things in PA, is in the middle of nowhere, you never know what can happen. With the exception of that minor linguistic hiccup, everyone has been really cool about getting to know me and vice versa and quite honestly, my game has been at a pretty high level of late (which surprises me, given my sedentary weekdays), which makes socializing on the court pretty easy.
One of the first things I set my mind to when I pulled in to the Lanc was to settle into a watering hole. On the evening I arrived, I asked my landlord where the Knicks were playing on TV. She answered, "The House of Pizza" and I haven't looked back since. Now, it's tough to paint a picture of this place. A very eccentric place where I'm usually the minority in about as many ways as you can think of, but the food is good and cheap, they play the games on TV, and I've had the pleasure of meeting some of the wildest characters. I've met some of my new friends there, too, don't get me wrong, but there are some nuts there, too. This one guy said "Boom, boom, boom" after every sip he took and sentence he spoke, I was hit on blatantly by two gay men (and no it's not that kind of bar) had a talk with this guy lamenting the fact that he just got convicted for his umpteenth DWI and was going to get jail time as he ordered his beer. I've also met a few new people I look forward to getting to know from a local college and traded life stories and philosophies with this train conductor, Tavis, which turned into one of the deepest conversations I've had in a long time. Simply put, for better or worse, there's no telling what you'll see or talk about when you head in there and I'm a fan of that element of surprise.
For a while, my Tuesday-Thursday evenings were looking pretty bleak, I admit. I even resorted to doing a full-fledged art project for the first time since I made Oscar the Grouch out of pipe cleaners last summer, but with the warm weather coming and me growing into my own socially around here at last, things are looking up. In addition, as I think I mentioned before, I'm going to start semi-frequenting a couple of weekly open mics to see if I can start performing poetry and music again. I miss that a great deal as well.
Weekend wise, I spend most time in York, I'm starting to have some people and places to see around here as well, which is exciting. Although, the weekend after my first week of work, when I decided to stay in Lancaster to see some people from work and Kevin, who was in the area, the already infamous Brickyard (your typical let's wear the tightest clothes we can and rub up against strangers on the dancefloor spot) claimed another victim as I lost my ID. Because of the way my wallet is laid out, (trust me on this one, I'm not as much of an idiot as it sounds like) I didn't even notice I'd lost it until a couple days later when I went to visit the equally infamous Jade in York and the.....sigh....infamous Murph's Study Hall. By the time I went retraced my steps over where I'd been that night, it was too late and I never found the ID and had to order a new one. To put it nicely, I felt like a horse's ass, especially because I was very sober on the night in question. During my time without an ID, I though of Jay not being able to take his SATs back in the day pretty often. The knowledge that someone out there has multiple forms of identification and is damn proud of it was the only humor and solace I found in an otherwise shite situation.
Ordinarily, other than naturally feeling like a moron for losing the thing on principle, I wouldn't care much that I didn't have the thing. I mean, it's not like I really drink that often and it would really just be a wasted 18 dollars to replace and a couple of weekends in less commercial hang out settings. However, I, in my infinite wisdom and good fortune lost my lone form of government issued photo ID during a time where I had to cash a check at bank that was not mine, the weekend of my birthday, and St. Patrick's day. Of course, the latter two are occasions where I kind of give myself the green light to dip into the sustination of inebriation, if you will.
Fortunately, after presenting a bank manager with pretty much everything but I signed note from my grandmother, including my social security card and old YCP card, I was able to cash my check and my birthday worked out well too.
I went down to York to see my good friend and former housemate, Rita's art show. She's a tremendous talent and it was awesome to see her work displayed all in one place. I admire her openness about some of her struggles and the positive attitude she maintains in spite of it. We all have our issues, but to present them so honestly while still in a way that people want to learn/hear/see more rather than separate themselves from it is intensely admirable and again, her work is great so it was a pleasure to see it and her, of course. The art show, as great as it was, wound up ending much earlier and with much less fanfare than I kind of expected, so I wound up driving over to the campus simply because it was too early too go back given the small but substantial trip I took to get there. When I got by the CPAC, I saw a sign that said "Dance Showcase" a figured what the heck? and walked in. Lo and behold, Rhapsody, decked out in some very fly new threads is performing on stage. You know I have to hang around now, so I take in the showcase and watch very talented people do dance moves that I would swear I'm capable of completing myself, but they never quite come out that way apparently. I catch up with the group after the show and wind up going to dinner with them (where I had the worst chili ever) and to a small party afterwards. Always great to see my good friends in Rhapsody and the was even a Poppyseed Sullivan sighting on the evening. As the clock struck midnight and my birthday began, they sang a little b-day ditty for me and we continued the carousing. Renee was kind enough to let me crash on her couch for the night and the next day I had the pleasure of seeing Nick Lynam's sax recital before meeting Sharnell and Brian for a wonderful birthday dinner. A very cultural weekend, if I do say so myself.
Times with Sharnell and Brian always feel worthy of a blog post in themselves. I can think of few other people I get around and laugh more constantly with. I thank them for spending the evening with me. A lone downside of the birthday had to be me accidentally making a small child cry. Apparently, he was staring at me pretty constantly ever since I walked in. I didn't know this and at one point made a very angry face out of jest and suddenly this poor kid to my left is wailing. Not since I knocked over that drink at the Tara Inn (almost reported in the Patch by Rich Arleo) did I feel so bad in the wake of being funny. Fortunately the kid relaxed and continued to watch me like a hawk. Needless to say, for the remainder of the night, I was extra cognisant of my surroundings.
This past weekend was St. Patrick's Day. Without an ID, hanging around here was out of the question and I didn't want to be the one guy in York who couldn't go to the bar. I didn't want to put my friends in the situation of having to stay with me, so I decided to make the trip to Eastern and visit my cousin. Eastern is a fine upstanding Christian school with about as much enthusiasm for St. Patrick's Day as Bosnia. Nonetheless, it was great to see Nick again and trade some stories and ideas the way we never really get the chance to when the family gets together. He seems like his head's on straight and he has good friends, which is all you can ask of a college experience. The institution itself seems a little tight and while I very much believe in God, I think they put a little too much emphasis in living God's way rather than finding your own. Personally, I don't see how you can invest yourself so fully in an idea without first knowing what it's like outside of it. Sean Gallagher put it best: If your religion doesn't leave you with as many questions as answers, your eyes are closed to something. "Eyes closed" is a bit of a vague analogy, but without its scapegoating powers, we're looking at a very different blog post. Just to be clear, I'm not painting my cousin with this broad brush, nor a lot of the people I met, just kind of the tone of the school as I gathered. We saw Project X together at the King of Prussia mall of speculative Phish lore (better movie than I thought, by the way) then we played some basketball with his friends the next day. A top notch visit in my opinion.
I got my ID in the mail yesterday, now that the birthday and St. Patty's are behind us. Regarding the job, I continue to get to know good people and find ways to brighten the days of myself and others while still working hard and staying humble. Like I said, I think my work ethic and ability to learn is apparent and this past week I had the ultimate chance to showcase my personality in a professional setting by writing a March Madness themed blog that has been well-received by friends and colleagues alike. Doing my best to bring some levity to the restaurant business, if that's what the powers that be are looking for, dare I say my future in the industry is bright.
I feel like this post is the equivalent of the first 50 pages of a novel where nothing really happens and they just kind of set the stage for the real action to start. Thank you for bearing with that as I skim and skip some stories and great times simply to give you all some context for future posts that I hope will come more often now that this grunt work is done.
Song of the Day: Rock N' Roll-Phish
Jazz Song of the Day: Winter Wind-Gretchen Parlato
Thursday, March 15, 2012
"I Never Knew But I Do Now"
Emerging out of darkness with either a poorly paraphrased Conrad reference, or a perfectly poignant nod to the 85 people worldwide who saw "Scream 4". I have returned to beat upon this typing instrument and shake the dust off of this blog, now hypothetically residing in the most Amish section of cyberspace possible, Lancaster Pennsylvania.
All flexing of literacy and thesaurus aside, it's a pleasure to back and I thank you for your patience and support as I settle into my new PA digs and pseudo long-term employment. I imagine a great many of you are tuning in to see how things are going; namely the job, new people and new area.
Regarding the job, there's less to say than you might think for a couple of reasons.
1. While writing product descriptions for various commercial and household kitchen equipment is not the most boring thing in the world to do, it may well be the most boring thing in the world to talk about. Rather than struggle to make the finer points of kettles and salt shakers sound compelling, I'm going to pull ye olde faste forwarde and narrow the experience down to a couple, likely less-than-concise points.
2. While I'm incredibly thankful to be employed and enjoy a lot of aspects of what I do, I don't want speak too candidly about the experience because you never know who's reading.
For those not well versed in all things Poli (I don't blame you), I'm essentially writing product descriptions and, very soon, blogs for a company that sells restaurant equipment over the internet. The job itself was quite an adjustment on a lot of levels, as you can imagine. I think firstly the realization that life on your own, own is different than even living on your own in college. I mean, in college, you learn to handle bills, manage money, handle landlords, work with/live with people, use your freedom constructively etc., it's definitely not a walk in the park sometimes, but in hindsight you at least had people all around in similar situations. Succeeding in college is not a breeze, I would never tell you otherwise and have the 3.8 cumm. to back it up, but, in a sense, you always had "college" in common with people. These are people you really grew into adults with and those bonds, positive or negative, are permanent and strong as can be. To be thrust into a place full of actual strangers at different points in their lives makes for a very different adjustment. It was weird to kind of be truly alone for a couple of days (before I opened up to people and at work and vice versa while trying to learn the ins and outs of this new environment. It was definitely a little overwhelming, but something that I undoubtedly learned a lot from.
I will say that since the start of my time at Clark Associates, while not exactly a breeding ground for social interaction, everyone I've spoken to has been nothing but nice and supportive and I'm proud to call a few of them my friends, even at the early stages of this not quite career. One perk of the job is that it works a little more with computers and html than I thought it did. Now, usually computers and I go together like grape jam and ceiling fans, but I think that's why I'm enjoying learning about that stuff because I really feel like I'm learning applicable skills from scratch and, dare I say, doing so quite quickly and efficiently. I kind of feel like that's part of what an entry level position is all about; having no freaking idea what's going on and powering through anyway. I can honestly say I've been working my tail off to succeed and I study where I can and I feel like the right people have been impressed with my progress, given my starting point. You'll have to take my word for it that at a place like this, praise comes at a premium.
Learning the system at Clark has had its hurdles, but it was amazing how much of a learning process the writing itself has been. I mean, I had no expectations of riding into the place on horse and buggy and suddenly being awesome at it, but I admit that I was kind of under the impression that if you showed me the technological aspects of the job, the writing would take care of itself. Not to sound immodest, but that's kind of how things have always come to me ever since I first put pen to pad, but this was a change. My task was essentially to take a syrup dispenser and make it seem like you're tabletop wouldn't look right without it. I promise, this is harder than it sounds and definitely required a bit of a learning curve. I remember on day one saying to myself, more seriously than I'd like to admit, "Well, it's a syrup pourer; 12 ounces; pours syrup nicely." For a while I felt like I'd rather write a novel in a night than one of these descriptions, but again, I learned quickly thanks to a lot of help from those around me and I'm really starting to find my groove there, which is a relief in itself, knowing that the people around me know that I'm working hard and willing to and capable of learning.
Regarding life outside the mecca of cookware, I'm going to save most of that for another post this weekend, but I've started playing in a Monday night basketball league, spend most weekends with good friends in York, have a place in the Lanc where I watch basketball when I can, made a couple friends here in and out of the workplace, and am going to start hitting up a couple open mics next week to fill up some admittedly empty Tuesday-Thursday evenings. Again, much more about the specifics of more social aspects life amongst the Mennonite.
Song of the Day: Consequence-Incubus
Jazz Song of the Day: It Might As Well Be Spring-Rene Marie
All flexing of literacy and thesaurus aside, it's a pleasure to back and I thank you for your patience and support as I settle into my new PA digs and pseudo long-term employment. I imagine a great many of you are tuning in to see how things are going; namely the job, new people and new area.
Regarding the job, there's less to say than you might think for a couple of reasons.
1. While writing product descriptions for various commercial and household kitchen equipment is not the most boring thing in the world to do, it may well be the most boring thing in the world to talk about. Rather than struggle to make the finer points of kettles and salt shakers sound compelling, I'm going to pull ye olde faste forwarde and narrow the experience down to a couple, likely less-than-concise points.
2. While I'm incredibly thankful to be employed and enjoy a lot of aspects of what I do, I don't want speak too candidly about the experience because you never know who's reading.
For those not well versed in all things Poli (I don't blame you), I'm essentially writing product descriptions and, very soon, blogs for a company that sells restaurant equipment over the internet. The job itself was quite an adjustment on a lot of levels, as you can imagine. I think firstly the realization that life on your own, own is different than even living on your own in college. I mean, in college, you learn to handle bills, manage money, handle landlords, work with/live with people, use your freedom constructively etc., it's definitely not a walk in the park sometimes, but in hindsight you at least had people all around in similar situations. Succeeding in college is not a breeze, I would never tell you otherwise and have the 3.8 cumm. to back it up, but, in a sense, you always had "college" in common with people. These are people you really grew into adults with and those bonds, positive or negative, are permanent and strong as can be. To be thrust into a place full of actual strangers at different points in their lives makes for a very different adjustment. It was weird to kind of be truly alone for a couple of days (before I opened up to people and at work and vice versa while trying to learn the ins and outs of this new environment. It was definitely a little overwhelming, but something that I undoubtedly learned a lot from.
I will say that since the start of my time at Clark Associates, while not exactly a breeding ground for social interaction, everyone I've spoken to has been nothing but nice and supportive and I'm proud to call a few of them my friends, even at the early stages of this not quite career. One perk of the job is that it works a little more with computers and html than I thought it did. Now, usually computers and I go together like grape jam and ceiling fans, but I think that's why I'm enjoying learning about that stuff because I really feel like I'm learning applicable skills from scratch and, dare I say, doing so quite quickly and efficiently. I kind of feel like that's part of what an entry level position is all about; having no freaking idea what's going on and powering through anyway. I can honestly say I've been working my tail off to succeed and I study where I can and I feel like the right people have been impressed with my progress, given my starting point. You'll have to take my word for it that at a place like this, praise comes at a premium.
Learning the system at Clark has had its hurdles, but it was amazing how much of a learning process the writing itself has been. I mean, I had no expectations of riding into the place on horse and buggy and suddenly being awesome at it, but I admit that I was kind of under the impression that if you showed me the technological aspects of the job, the writing would take care of itself. Not to sound immodest, but that's kind of how things have always come to me ever since I first put pen to pad, but this was a change. My task was essentially to take a syrup dispenser and make it seem like you're tabletop wouldn't look right without it. I promise, this is harder than it sounds and definitely required a bit of a learning curve. I remember on day one saying to myself, more seriously than I'd like to admit, "Well, it's a syrup pourer; 12 ounces; pours syrup nicely." For a while I felt like I'd rather write a novel in a night than one of these descriptions, but again, I learned quickly thanks to a lot of help from those around me and I'm really starting to find my groove there, which is a relief in itself, knowing that the people around me know that I'm working hard and willing to and capable of learning.
Regarding life outside the mecca of cookware, I'm going to save most of that for another post this weekend, but I've started playing in a Monday night basketball league, spend most weekends with good friends in York, have a place in the Lanc where I watch basketball when I can, made a couple friends here in and out of the workplace, and am going to start hitting up a couple open mics next week to fill up some admittedly empty Tuesday-Thursday evenings. Again, much more about the specifics of more social aspects life amongst the Mennonite.
Song of the Day: Consequence-Incubus
Jazz Song of the Day: It Might As Well Be Spring-Rene Marie
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Displaced People, Misplaced Towels
On the Friday prior to my departure for God's Country, my sister and friends banded together to throw me a surprise party proving to be a final and fitting send off and a night worthy of great great memories. I was, indeed, surprised to the full extent shock and awe, but the previous day, in hindsight consisted of a couple of moments that should have tipped off that something was amiss in Dublin (a "Ulysses" reference for my boy, Denny Basens).
The previous evening, Thursday for those keeping track, I had had a long day trying to get my feet wet in the car buying game. The day was so rough that I even got a little snippy with a disguised Sean Taylor as he ventured to bait me into a good-natured prank call. I was wise enough to realize that I needed a respite from all things real world for an hour or so and my friends were happy to oblige.
I met up with a few friends at a bar and all seemed eerily status quo. As was usually the case, we had casual plans to go out on the town to allow me to bid fond farewells through the appropriate amount of alcohol-induced haze, but nothing too special was planned, nor would I have it any other way. The peace, also as per usual, was nearly shattered by the one and only, Sean Taylor, as he arrived fashionably late. (Everything he does in those glasses is fashionable, by the way.) I kid you not, the first words out of his mouth were "so what time do the festivities start again tomorrow?" Honestly, maybe due to the disreputable source, the comment went right over my head and I considered the question pretty reasonable at the time. Jay was quick to jump in and say that what he meant by that was, "what time do you want to go out tomorrow?" What did momentarily make me feel funny was how quickly Sean agreed with Jay that he meant exactly what Jay said. Nonetheless, my suspicion was fleeting and I soon excused myself for a beat or two. Obviously I wasn't there to see it, but according to reenactments, the looks Jay and Roo gave Sean Taylor were lethal and Sean admitted freely that he "blew it." Truthfully, these recounts of what went down may have afforded more pleasure than the party itself.
Later on that night, I had the chance to jam with Sean Gallagher of our former "Skinny Scrawny Sexy" semi-fame and the Beard who used to make up "The Umbrellas" with me. It was an absolute pleasure to perform with these musicians again. We've always connected musically on a lot of different levels and it was incredible to recapture that magic again for a spell. A great time that I'll surely miss.
The next day, we played basketball at Jay's. I noticed that Coop (a fifty-year-old drunk worthy of a post himself) was even more vociferous and cryptic than usual. As we played ball, he kept telling Jay, in so many words, to hook him up later and let him know the details. Comically enough, I assumed Coop was just kind of looking for a ride later, or a place to grab some weed. I feel bad for thinking this in hindsight, but it was more of a generalization of Coop's character than Jay's. Apparently, Roo had let slip to Coop that a party was going down that night. While Roo succeeded in vowing Coop to secrecy, Coop wanted to attend the bash himself. That would have been a surprise indeed if Coop were amongst the young and semi-sober. Fortunately, Coop never made it to my home and after a laid back dinner with my father, I returned home to find the foyer flooded with with my friends shouting a jarring, but warming, "surprise" as I walked in the door. I was told my face was quite memorable and I don't doubt it. It was beyond awesome to have so many people gathered to say goodbye and I'm grateful to everyone who attended, especially my sister Noelle and Jay, who were instrumental in making it happen.
The party was largely a great time and as the midnight hour approached we made for Downport to draw unsuspecting, yet willing, others into our celebration. I feel like "tales of buzzed" is a little trite, so I'll skip over a lot of that jazz and just mention that Matty and I hit the dance floor as only we can (even a Frank sighting), Sean Taylor gave me open access to his tab, which I only added a lone beer to, because I wanted to make sure I remained cognisant enough for people to remember me fondly. I chuckle at how I kind of minimized such a grand gesture, but it's the thought that counts and I thank him tremendously.
After we left the final bar, a slightly worse for wear (is that the right "wear"?) Sean Taylor wanted to grab some pizza. We went into a pizza place where basketball was being discussed. Believe it or not, I kept my mouth shut having learned my lesson from the subway "What constitutes a sport?" debate. However, after about two minutes of loitering, suddenly a roar of boos erupts in the place in an apparent appeal for a mass exodus of some kind. Lo and behold, Sean Taylor is the target of these misgivings. I admit, I have no idea what he said to excite the mob so, but at least from his body language, it seemed rather uncalled for. We all left (Sean fashionably) in a fit of laughter leaving the hecklers to savor their victory. It was a good-natured exchange, but nonetheless, I'll always wonder what Sean said that night.
As stated, Sean had suckled all he could from the night and wound up snoozing at my place. In a final mystery, I awoke to find Sean Taylor snuggling with my bath towel as the morning sun's rays crept into the window. Sean could not account for why he had the towel and as for me, I realize that somethings are better left unanswered and ran through the laundry.
More to come as I start work on Monday.
Song of the Day: Bird Song-Grateful Dead
Jazz Song of the Day: Bird Gets The Worm-Charlie Parker
Clearly, I'm subconciously in a very avian mood.
The previous evening, Thursday for those keeping track, I had had a long day trying to get my feet wet in the car buying game. The day was so rough that I even got a little snippy with a disguised Sean Taylor as he ventured to bait me into a good-natured prank call. I was wise enough to realize that I needed a respite from all things real world for an hour or so and my friends were happy to oblige.
I met up with a few friends at a bar and all seemed eerily status quo. As was usually the case, we had casual plans to go out on the town to allow me to bid fond farewells through the appropriate amount of alcohol-induced haze, but nothing too special was planned, nor would I have it any other way. The peace, also as per usual, was nearly shattered by the one and only, Sean Taylor, as he arrived fashionably late. (Everything he does in those glasses is fashionable, by the way.) I kid you not, the first words out of his mouth were "so what time do the festivities start again tomorrow?" Honestly, maybe due to the disreputable source, the comment went right over my head and I considered the question pretty reasonable at the time. Jay was quick to jump in and say that what he meant by that was, "what time do you want to go out tomorrow?" What did momentarily make me feel funny was how quickly Sean agreed with Jay that he meant exactly what Jay said. Nonetheless, my suspicion was fleeting and I soon excused myself for a beat or two. Obviously I wasn't there to see it, but according to reenactments, the looks Jay and Roo gave Sean Taylor were lethal and Sean admitted freely that he "blew it." Truthfully, these recounts of what went down may have afforded more pleasure than the party itself.
Later on that night, I had the chance to jam with Sean Gallagher of our former "Skinny Scrawny Sexy" semi-fame and the Beard who used to make up "The Umbrellas" with me. It was an absolute pleasure to perform with these musicians again. We've always connected musically on a lot of different levels and it was incredible to recapture that magic again for a spell. A great time that I'll surely miss.
The next day, we played basketball at Jay's. I noticed that Coop (a fifty-year-old drunk worthy of a post himself) was even more vociferous and cryptic than usual. As we played ball, he kept telling Jay, in so many words, to hook him up later and let him know the details. Comically enough, I assumed Coop was just kind of looking for a ride later, or a place to grab some weed. I feel bad for thinking this in hindsight, but it was more of a generalization of Coop's character than Jay's. Apparently, Roo had let slip to Coop that a party was going down that night. While Roo succeeded in vowing Coop to secrecy, Coop wanted to attend the bash himself. That would have been a surprise indeed if Coop were amongst the young and semi-sober. Fortunately, Coop never made it to my home and after a laid back dinner with my father, I returned home to find the foyer flooded with with my friends shouting a jarring, but warming, "surprise" as I walked in the door. I was told my face was quite memorable and I don't doubt it. It was beyond awesome to have so many people gathered to say goodbye and I'm grateful to everyone who attended, especially my sister Noelle and Jay, who were instrumental in making it happen.
The party was largely a great time and as the midnight hour approached we made for Downport to draw unsuspecting, yet willing, others into our celebration. I feel like "tales of buzzed" is a little trite, so I'll skip over a lot of that jazz and just mention that Matty and I hit the dance floor as only we can (even a Frank sighting), Sean Taylor gave me open access to his tab, which I only added a lone beer to, because I wanted to make sure I remained cognisant enough for people to remember me fondly. I chuckle at how I kind of minimized such a grand gesture, but it's the thought that counts and I thank him tremendously.
After we left the final bar, a slightly worse for wear (is that the right "wear"?) Sean Taylor wanted to grab some pizza. We went into a pizza place where basketball was being discussed. Believe it or not, I kept my mouth shut having learned my lesson from the subway "What constitutes a sport?" debate. However, after about two minutes of loitering, suddenly a roar of boos erupts in the place in an apparent appeal for a mass exodus of some kind. Lo and behold, Sean Taylor is the target of these misgivings. I admit, I have no idea what he said to excite the mob so, but at least from his body language, it seemed rather uncalled for. We all left (Sean fashionably) in a fit of laughter leaving the hecklers to savor their victory. It was a good-natured exchange, but nonetheless, I'll always wonder what Sean said that night.
As stated, Sean had suckled all he could from the night and wound up snoozing at my place. In a final mystery, I awoke to find Sean Taylor snuggling with my bath towel as the morning sun's rays crept into the window. Sean could not account for why he had the towel and as for me, I realize that somethings are better left unanswered and ran through the laundry.
More to come as I start work on Monday.
Song of the Day: Bird Song-Grateful Dead
Jazz Song of the Day: Bird Gets The Worm-Charlie Parker
Clearly, I'm subconciously in a very avian mood.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Dolls, Dogs, Dutch
I type this post from the confines of a York College writing lab which, due to its lack of windows, causes me to lose track of most any concept of time. With that said, I can say with confidence that my presence here is a much welcomed dose of nostalgia rather than the symbol of fast approaching deadlines of all kinds it was when I was a student here. I took the ride down to do some visiting, only to find that break started today. The day was a solid one nonetheless, as I caught friends intermittently throughout the day, but it has left me with pockets of downtime like this as I wait to meet up with some friends from the wrestling team. We workout together, no big deal.
The move to Pennsylvania is at last complete. With the exception of having to find a local Wal-Mart equivalent and start the actual job that bid me to leave to beach combed land of Long Island's north shore, things have pretty well settled down and I may even find some time to scribe a long overdue opinion piece on Jeremy Lin's rise to superstrardom, which excites me enough for both of us, so don't worry if you're underwhelmed by that news.
As I said, the move is complete, but a great deal of things went down in short succession that led up to this point. I'll do my best to cover the ins and outs without over doing it on the word count front.
I'm living in the historic district of Lancaster, a stone's throw from a lot of things, but most notably, I guess, at this point, the stadium for the Lancaster Barnstormers of Atlantic League fame. I find it incredibly interesting that for a guy who, no offense, never cared very much for baseball (especially after the Chi-Sox won the series) can have a lot of the eras of his life kind of defined by this minor league baseball program. My family used to have season tickets for the Long Island Ducks when I was high school-ish age, Rhapsody was heavily involved with the York Revolution, and now I live close enough to the Barnstormers to have to keep my head on a swivel should a ball ever leave the park.
Anyway, the speed of life has definitely picked up in a positive way. A couple of weeks ago, I took the drive out to PA to check out some perspective domiciles and really did get lucky since the second place I checked out wound up being the place I settled on. However, the day did not start out on such a positive note. I initially checked out a place in Centerville in a more rural area of Lancaster and my hopes were pretty high for the place, initially. The woman had four dogs that she admitted were rambunctious, but small. I admit I'm not exactly a pet person, but I also don't really mind them too much either. I figured even if the dogs bark a bit and crowd your knees some, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. For awhile, I sat inside and spoke with the owner as the dogs played outside. I was a little relieved because she wasn't lying about the dogs being small and they weren't going wild or anything outside. I figured I was, more or less, in the clear and the woman was just being cautious in warning me about the animals. She then opened the door and everything changed. Now, I expected these dogs to bark and jump at my legs until they got to know me and get settled, but I was literally fending off projectile dogs as they launched themselves at my chest. I'm trying to play it cool, but it gets to a point where I'm literally throwing these dogs off me and fighting my natural instincts and clench my fists. I know that a few animal lover friends likely disapprove, but I swear I was under attack.
The woman eventually corrals the beasts and locks them away in another room, where they continue to throw themselves at the door, making a terrible thud-noise. Now, at that point, I'm rattled, I admit. However, this woman's rent was the cheapest to be found and while I had already concluded that my time in this place was going to be MUCH more short-term than I had anticipated, I still didn't want unequivocally rule the place out just yet. Plus, I came all this way so why not at least see the room? The room itself is furnished, has an independent bathroom, nice tile flooring, and even a variety of books to peruse. Sounds pretty solid, right? I neglected to mention that the room is filled with at least 30 different baby dolls of all kinds, surrounding the room. At this point I'm briefly considering that this is an elaborate hoax set up by Sean Taylor to make up for the cash register incident. It was not. At that point my gut feeling was confirmed and I thanked the woman for her time and moved on.
Actually, I'm going to split this time into a few posts to avoid writing a novel and over skimming the time. The next post will concern a surprise party that, thanks to Sean Taylor, almost wasn't.
Song of the Day: Out Of The Blue-George Harrison
Jazz Song of the Day: Orange Was The Color Of Her Dress-Charles Mingus
The move to Pennsylvania is at last complete. With the exception of having to find a local Wal-Mart equivalent and start the actual job that bid me to leave to beach combed land of Long Island's north shore, things have pretty well settled down and I may even find some time to scribe a long overdue opinion piece on Jeremy Lin's rise to superstrardom, which excites me enough for both of us, so don't worry if you're underwhelmed by that news.
As I said, the move is complete, but a great deal of things went down in short succession that led up to this point. I'll do my best to cover the ins and outs without over doing it on the word count front.
I'm living in the historic district of Lancaster, a stone's throw from a lot of things, but most notably, I guess, at this point, the stadium for the Lancaster Barnstormers of Atlantic League fame. I find it incredibly interesting that for a guy who, no offense, never cared very much for baseball (especially after the Chi-Sox won the series) can have a lot of the eras of his life kind of defined by this minor league baseball program. My family used to have season tickets for the Long Island Ducks when I was high school-ish age, Rhapsody was heavily involved with the York Revolution, and now I live close enough to the Barnstormers to have to keep my head on a swivel should a ball ever leave the park.
Anyway, the speed of life has definitely picked up in a positive way. A couple of weeks ago, I took the drive out to PA to check out some perspective domiciles and really did get lucky since the second place I checked out wound up being the place I settled on. However, the day did not start out on such a positive note. I initially checked out a place in Centerville in a more rural area of Lancaster and my hopes were pretty high for the place, initially. The woman had four dogs that she admitted were rambunctious, but small. I admit I'm not exactly a pet person, but I also don't really mind them too much either. I figured even if the dogs bark a bit and crowd your knees some, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. For awhile, I sat inside and spoke with the owner as the dogs played outside. I was a little relieved because she wasn't lying about the dogs being small and they weren't going wild or anything outside. I figured I was, more or less, in the clear and the woman was just being cautious in warning me about the animals. She then opened the door and everything changed. Now, I expected these dogs to bark and jump at my legs until they got to know me and get settled, but I was literally fending off projectile dogs as they launched themselves at my chest. I'm trying to play it cool, but it gets to a point where I'm literally throwing these dogs off me and fighting my natural instincts and clench my fists. I know that a few animal lover friends likely disapprove, but I swear I was under attack.
The woman eventually corrals the beasts and locks them away in another room, where they continue to throw themselves at the door, making a terrible thud-noise. Now, at that point, I'm rattled, I admit. However, this woman's rent was the cheapest to be found and while I had already concluded that my time in this place was going to be MUCH more short-term than I had anticipated, I still didn't want unequivocally rule the place out just yet. Plus, I came all this way so why not at least see the room? The room itself is furnished, has an independent bathroom, nice tile flooring, and even a variety of books to peruse. Sounds pretty solid, right? I neglected to mention that the room is filled with at least 30 different baby dolls of all kinds, surrounding the room. At this point I'm briefly considering that this is an elaborate hoax set up by Sean Taylor to make up for the cash register incident. It was not. At that point my gut feeling was confirmed and I thanked the woman for her time and moved on.
Actually, I'm going to split this time into a few posts to avoid writing a novel and over skimming the time. The next post will concern a surprise party that, thanks to Sean Taylor, almost wasn't.
Song of the Day: Out Of The Blue-George Harrison
Jazz Song of the Day: Orange Was The Color Of Her Dress-Charles Mingus
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