Tag: family

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personal

You are you who are because of the parents to whom you were born

Lobster tail dinner

How much do you think the US gives as a percentage of Gross Domestic Product? In other words, how much do you think we give outta the all the money the country makes in a year? 5%, 10%? Answer below.

———-

Had an interesting online exchange with a stranger:

Him: Poverty is … well to put it as unpolitical as I can, something that occurs because parents don’t know how to teach their kids any better. That’s as nice as I can put it without being sadistic about it.
Me: How did you get your parents? You didn’t work for them, you did nothing to get the ones you did. If you were born to parents in North Korea or Somalia, your life would be vastly different if not for sheer dumb luck. Don’t pat yourself on the back for having the brilliance of sheer stupid luck.

He gave a lot more nonsense answers before finally admitting that the only real difference between him and the world he snidely judges comes down to a child’s taunt: Heads I win, Tails your lose.

We are – almost completely – the product of the parents to whom we were born, good or bad.

Said this to someone at work who immediately quipped, What if you were adopted? which I said, proves my point. If you were born to a young mother who gave you up for adoption, that changes your life dramatically.

Likewise, if you were born to a pastor (the “PK” as we used to say) you were stereotypically either on one extreme or the other in terms of behaviour patterns.

You don’t necessarily ape your parents, but you are shaped by them.

To “be counted among the world’s richest 1 percent, a single individual has to earn just $34,000 a year. Members of the planet’s true middle class, meanwhile, live on just $1,225 a year.”

That’s astounding.

If you read me – ie, have internet, have a computer – you’ve won the real lottery of life by being part of the true 1%.

If you do nothing else to pay back the aether for your dumb luck, at least tell the people that gloat over their good fortune and look down everyone else, “Shut the _____ up.”

———-

The US gives a total of 0.19% of GDP to foreign aid; in other words out of every dollar we make, the US gives 0.19 cents to foreign aid.

http://www.gatesfoundation.org/annual-letter/2010/Pages/rich-countries-foreign-aid.aspx

(c) Gates Foundation

Location: sick in bed
Mood: sick – send soup
Music: Words as weapons sharper than knives
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personal

The person with the answers’ worth the wait

UWS church in NYC

Was asked to be one of the photographers for my new church opening on the UWS. It’s flattering to be asked but maybe it’s more my Syd than me.

A photographer once told me that at least half of the difficultly of taking pictures of people’s the walking up to strangers and shoving a machine into their faces.

You “take” pictures – no one “gives” them to you. It’s aggressive by its very nature.

The thing’s that I’m not an aggressive guy. Most people’s responses to my taking pictures is a why-not kinda shrug.

Dunno if this’s a good thing or bad thing but I’m leaning toward the former.

Whiskey Tavern in NYC

Went out to see the family over the weekend and the wife came with. Spent most of it building a PVR for my pop.

Time Warner has two numbers for building these things and I called the local number (718.358.0900) versus the toll-free number (866.606.5889) as it seems to be a shorter wait.

The lady on the first one – after 15 minute wait – said, “Hold on, I’m going to send a signal to your box.” I told her I had a series of numbers that I was supposed to read to her and she told me she didn’t need it.

30 minutes later, I’m back at the Time Warner repair center returning a fried box.

This time, called the second number and – after a 90 minute wait – got a guy who chuckled and said, “She fried your box, huh? Dunno why they keep putting the local numbers there. Those guys don’t know what they’re doing.”

No. No they do not.

Moral of the story? The person with the answers’ worth the wait.

Whiskey Tavern in NYC

Afterward, met up with Gio. He was having a party at Whiskey Tavern downtown to celebrate his 40th birthday as well his recent engagement. He and I had many the random meetings in the big city together.

As usual with him, the poison was on his tab and all of our people were there. My liver wasn’t speaking to me afterward. Ran into a number of old faces and it was good catching up – even ran into three people that read me here (hola!).

Anywho, there’s this saying that every pot has it’s cover. Maybe that’s true.

Met the future Mrs. Gio that night and told her I wished the two of them all of the best.

Life’s hard enough without your person.

Location: bedroom, writing
Mood: disappointed
Music: you give me no reason why you’re making me work so hard
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personal

The hours drag but the years sprint away

Westin Hotel in Jersey City

Her: (after applying make-up) See the power of make-up?
Me: You always look good.
Her: Awww, you don’t have to say that.
Me: It’s not like I married you for your personality.

We took a trip out to Jersey for her grandmother’s 90th birthday (and other reasons) this past weekend and stayed over at the Westin in Jersey City. It’s nice to get away from city, even if it’s only across the river and for just a bit.

90 years. Find that pretty astounding, actually. I’ll be 90 in 2063, which seems like a lifetime away but it’s only 18,615 days away.

It’s a weird time in my life where the hours drag but the years sprint away.

While out there, we managed to grab a couplea episodes of the BBC show Sherlock, which puts Sherlock Holmes in the 20th Century. Truly somea the best writing on television. Do yourself a favour and try to catch it.

Speakinga writing, am hit with a massive case of writer’s block. No joy.

While out in Jersey, drove by the place that my ex used to live and s’funny when you look back on your life and remember the different versions of yourself like they were different people.

It’s always me but it is not I.

Cake at Fire and Oak, Jersey City
Coffee at Fire and Oak, Jersey City

Location: getting to the post office
Mood: rejuvenated
Music: all these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall
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personal

2011 Year in Review / Thanks


CS Lewis once said that, The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.

With the utmost respect to Mr. Lewis, there’s something about the world, when you get a certain age, where hours seem to drag but the years seem to fly by. 2011’s almost over and it feels like it just began.

In 2011, I:

  1. Made five resolutions. Kept three of them.
  2. Got married. (!)
  3. Got food poisoning for the third time in my life.
  4. Turned 38. (!)
  5. Had a second wedding celebration.
  6. Had a third wedding celebration wedding celebration and a fourth one as well. Man, we are just fulla ourselves – and then traveled to Europe to give some lectures.
  7. Nuthin really happened in July, just a lotta quiet summer weekends in NYC. But man, was it hot.
  8. Went to Bermuda, then dealt with Irene.
  9. Gave another lecture and spent a lotta time in the Down Town Association.
  10. Finished my manuscript. (!)
  11. Had my first Thanksgiving without going to my parents and instead had it with my wife (and sister-in-law – both of which I’ve not had in previous Thanksgivings).
  12. Made this here self-referential blog entry.

There are a few things that I keep to myself that I don’t put here just for a small semblance of privacy.

For example, I had six resolutions actually, the sixth was to marry Heartgirl. But I couldn’t actually put that up when I made those resolutions.

On the topic of Heartgirl, don’t think that I’ve ever said I love her publicly. Love is a word we all banter around; for example, I love rum and chili. Not together, per se, but conceivably even then.

Think it’s kinda obvious how I feel but maybe that’s just what it is in my head. But I do. Love her, that is.

She’s who I’ve been looking for since I was a fat kid in Flushing, NY. My person I can’t put inna words. And I’ve tried many times and yet I can’t.

So I won’t try. Instead, lemme say again that life’s a tragedy fulla joy and that she’s my greatest joy. She’s also funny, smart, and easy on the eyes, all of which doesn’t hurt.

Finally, I want to say thanks to her. For being the person to whom I don’t gotta prove my worth and for making sure I always have someone with whom to spend New Year’s Eve.

As for you, as always, thanks for reading.

Well then, it’s almost 2012.

Off we go…(!)

Location: the end of 2011
Mood: psyched
Music: Ah, but I thought I’d ask you just the same
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personal

You become less self-reliant after marriage

Building being torn down in the UWS, NYC

While I love the Honeymooners, it did always bother me that since that show, most family shows I know of have been about a clever wife and dimwitted husband. Think everything from The Simpsons to The King of Queens. There are some exceptions but by-and-large, that’s the go-to situation for most sitcoms.

Still, now that I’m actually married, I think there’s something to be said for men and “marriage brain.” Find myself relying on her regarding things on which I was once fairly self-reliant.

Me: Have you seen my toothbrush?
Her: I packed it along with some floss, toothpaste, and other toiletries in a plastic bag. I also packed a snack bag.

Which is not to say I don’t pull my own weight around the joint. In addition to being the official killer of bugs and other critters, I keep the place humming.

Her: Why’s it so bright in here?
Me: I put in two more fluorescent light tubes.
Her: (shielding eyes) Take them out – it’s like we’re living on the sun.

Although it is interesting since we got married, we’ve somehow managed to read each others minds so that often seem to be thinking the exact same thing at the exact same time:

Me: I like married life.
Her: (simultaneously) You look weird.

Well, not every time.

Location: in fronta an enormous cuppa joe
Mood: still wide awake
Music: nobody knows that her eyes are as big as her bubbly toes
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personal

Marriage is a funny thing

Small Thanksgiving dinner in the UWS, NYC

Her: George Washington __________? Between New York and New Jersey…
Him: Carver?
Her: George Washington CARVER is between New York and New Jersey?! BRIDGE! It’s BRIDGE! George Washington Bridge!

Forgot to mention that the wife and I did our first Thanksgiving sans respective families, although her sister did come by for the main meal.

Marriage’s a funny thing. We regularly comment to each other that, prior to three years ago, we were total strangers. Now were eschewing the family we’re known all our lives for this new family we made. See, funny thing.

On Monday, met up with some old co-workers from my internet days at Dive 75. If you’ve never been there, it’s the best bar in NYC, IMHO – mainly cause the music/tv’s not that loud, there’re bowls of chocolate everywhere, and stacks of board games.

Ended up playing Taboo until it was way past our respective bedtimes. Alcohol and chocolates really increases the entertainment value of boardgames.

It’s always hard finding time to meet up with them, or anyone really, but isn’t it always a nice time when y’actually find the time?

Location: the desk, per usual
Mood: Super busy
Music: They say people in your life are seasons And anything that happen is for a reason
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personal

Having your person and your people

Girl in Subway on West 50th Street, NYC

Him: (laughing) That’s pretty funny – you have a good sense of humor. (holding out hand) My name’s Jack, this is my wife, Claire.
Me: (taking hand) Logan. And thanks. I bought it on ebay for a buck fifty.

The thing about misery is that it always comes. That parasitic fear’s parta the deal, I suppose.

For mosta my youth, did a lotta stress eating; meaning when bad things happen, end up downing anything and everything. As a young adult, did a lotta stress fighting – meaning I got into scrapes for no real good reason. But being old means I go to the gym whenever things get tough.

Been going to the gym a lot lately.

Cause people I know and love’ve been in the hospital a lot lately. Four to be exact.

They’re all gonna be fine, I think hope. But it’s stressful – after all, life’s a tragedy fulla joy.

I like wrestling and fencing cause, for 15 minutes at a time, y’think of nuthin. You just try not to get hit or choked. It’s nice to not think sometimes. Oftentimes, wish my brain would just shut off for a bit and leave me be. But it only does when I wrestle or fence. So off I go.

Last week, though, couldn’t go cause I had to be near a phone in case of emergencies. Isn’t the waiting the worst part? And so, with nuthing to slash or choke, stuffed my face like I was 12 again.

Did manage to find time to slip into a friend’s wedding where I met a buncha nice folks. It’s nice having your person and your people.

Her: You’re home. How was it?
Me: There was rum and meat, so it was great. But it’s always nice to be home.

And it is.

Even though lately I’ve been hanging out a lot in that wretched miserable space between awake and dreams, it’s slightly more bearable cause she’s here.

Like I said, it’s nice having your person and your people.

Candles on a table off Times Square, NYC

Location: at a breakfast with a dean of law
Mood: worried
Music: would I walk for a hundred miles for an instant northern smile
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dating personal

Digital to do / Insult me, beat me, make me write bad checks

Canal Street Subway

Mom: (leaning in, whispering) Act normal. I put two suitcases with your dad’s stuff into your trunk. Get rid of them.
Me: What? How?
Her: Shhh! I don’t know, don’t care. Just get rid of them. (turning to everyone, smiling) Who wants dessert?

I’ve somehow become a digital packrat in my life. My father, god love him, saves everything. Drives my mom mad. On more than one occasion, I’ll go home and find that she’s filled my trunk with random junk that my dad’s accumulated.

Suspect that if she were in the mafia, we’d have similar conversations.

Like me, she accumulates mosta her stuff in digitally. But I take after my dad in that I save everything.

Think it all started when I decided to get rid of all of my CDs years ago. Then I digitized all of my class notes from my school days. Just snowballed from there. The whole thing’d be fine it not for the fact that I didn’t organize it properly from the get-go. So now, as it gets bigger so does that sinking feeling that I gotta go back and re-edit a buncha stuff. So, to avoid procrastination, every time I get a few minutes, go back and start curating.

Amazed at how much stuff I’ve actually got.

On the topic of editing digital stuff, been reading a buncha my friends’ dating profiles for them. They’re terrible. The majority’re just bland and boring with lotsa guys putting up smiley faces every two sentences as if to say, I‘m just kidding, see how fun I am?

The worst are the ones that say, I’m just looking for someone nice. As if everyone else is saying, Insult me, beat me, make me write bad checks.

Figure there’s gotta be a cottage industry to help people not come off as weird or desperate online. Think I’ll have to write a post about writing a good profile onea these days soon.

And there’s another thing to add to my digital to do list.

Location: getting dressed in the front room
Mood: thoughtful
Music: Complacency, a vacancy, checks into your heart
YASYCTAI: Edit another folder of stuff. It’s never ending (a long time/1 pts)
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business personal

Dean Martin and the Street Where You Live

Eve: Sing it to me.
Adam: (softly, saying it as much as singing it) “All at once am I several stories high knowing I’m on the street where you live.” It’s about a young man who is overjoyed just to be standing in front of the house of the person he loves.

Everybody likes Frank Sinatra. Not me; much preferred Dean Martin. Gotta say that his version of On the Street Where You Live is my favourite. Thought about it today after running all over the city.

Got home first, from a pretty busy day. Was up at 4AM. Dashed out to a breakfast at the Benjamin Steak House with a buncha lawyers. Nice group save for one fella who just seemed like he was in a sour mood. Found him annoying; he was the only one.

In any case, had the Eggs Benedict before hoofing it to the office. Caught a train out to Queens to another office, a haircut, lunch at the rents, another appointment at the old NY Sun offices before catching another train.

Made it back home just in time to hear her unlock the door.

———-

Like Eggs Benedicts cause my egg poaching’s not worth a damn and my Hollandaise sauce breaks enough times for me to just want someone to do it for me.

If I get enough time, gonna try and make Chicken and 40 Cloves of Garlic. Love fall. Get to cook again.

Sculpture in NYC

Location: getting ready for another busy day
Mood: weary
Music: People stop and state; they don’t bother me.
YASYCTAI: Meet more people; everyone has at least one interesting story. (2 mins/1.0 pt)
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personal

What you think is true, what you hope is true, and what is actually true

An apartment in the UWS, NYC

Had a really interesting few days.

Firstly, randomly walked by a buncha workers and tossed them few hundred to paint my apartment. Totally spur of the moment. Looks great.

Anywho, dunno if I ever told you but I’ve had a real estate broker’s license since I was like 19. Some years, used it a lot; other years, not at all. Just rented a place less than 24 hours after the first showing. About half the people I showed it to said that the unit looked just like the pictures in my ad and that it was accurately described.

Which brings me to my other occupation; I work for a litigator who recently told me that, A Few Good Men jokes aside, the truth is the most powerful thing in a courtroom.

If all of my random dating has taught me anything, it’s that people sense and want truth. They crave it.

They know, on some level, what’s true and what’s for sale.

Which then brings me to an issue I’m having with one of my oldest and dearest friends. He’s got two email addresses, one personal, one work. He’s asked that I use one over the other for work related matters, which I’ve obliged.

However, the issue’s that emails to that address are never answered in a timely manner – in fact there have been several times where he’s dropped the ball completely. So another email has to be sent saying, “Did you get my email?” which also goes unread resulting in a phone call. Thus a one-minute question becomes a long drawn out affair.

After the very last time he promised me that he’d set up a forward to make sure he gets emails. And again it happens. So I told him that I’d never send another email to that address.

Now he’s upset with me.

Which’s odd, cause he takes no responsibility for failing to follow-through, it’s my fault that I now, a year later, refuse to write him there any more. He’s essentially saying, “All those other times I said that I’d read them? I was totally not being honest with myself or you. But this time? This time, I’m gonna read them.”

But there’s a difference between the lies you tell yourself, wishful thinking without action, and the truth.

Put another way: there’s a difference between what you think is true, what you hope is true, and what is actually true.

The three are not the same.

———-

My oldest and closest friend turns 40 today. I wish you courage.

Cause with courage, coupled with hope and a dash of empathy, you’ve got mosta what you need to get through this life unbroken.

Friends, cold hard cash, and rum do not hurt either.

So I guess what I’m really saying is that I wish you courage, hope, empathy, friends, cold-hard cash and rum.

Actually, rum will help with most of the above.

Lemme revise my thought then; I wish you rum.

Happy getting one-year-older-but-also-one-year-better day!

 

Location: sitting next to Diego
Mood: less busy, finally
Music: Come listen to my truest thoughts, my truest feelings
YASYCTAI: Pick up a new book; how are you on your reading schedule? (2 days/1 pt)
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