Lorax1515's blog: "The Lorax Chronicles"

I've admittedly fallen into a rut. The blank screen has been staring me in the face the last couple of days and I've seen care bears running across. I remember being younger and when people would tell me to clear my mind, I'd imagine a great white blanket like a polar bear in a blizzard and then ever so randomly tiny little care bears of all colors run across the whiteness trailing little cartoon clouds of dust. When I clear my mind, that is what I see. I guess my malaise centers around the approaching winter break. With only a week and a half until it arrives, instead of being excited about it, I'm already thinking about how quickly it will pass. I have ambitions for this much needed time off. I intend to use it as a planning period for the next semester. I feel that if I get a head start, I will be ready for the district and state tests that my students will need to embark on. I will be staying in Louisiana for this reason. While I will be able to catch up on sleep, I will fill my days with focused work and my nights with curfew beating pleasure. A few of my friends will be in the area and there are a couple of events that I'm anticipating. On Christmas Eve the parish has a tradition of lighting a series of bonfires along the levee. Even though it was bitter cold last year, it's still nice to walk from fire to fire. On that note, let me extrapolate how the cold weather in Louisiana is dramatically different than that of the northeast. Up north, the temperature drops much further than the south, but it feels like a dry, break-your-ears-off cold. Down here, due to the humidity in the air, even if it's forty degrees, the weather chills you to the bone. Now I'm not going so far as to say that one might be worse than the other, but both are excrutiating in their own ways. This past weekend has been amusing. Friday was pretty much uneventful, but Saturday was a different story. After spending much of the day in the city, attending a professional day provided by Teach For America, I accompanied a friend of mine to the mall. I am not a fan of malls to begin with. For me, the only purpose they serve is for the life long pleasurable tradition of people watching. A good friend of mine wrote an extensive thesis on malls in America and I find the subject to be interesting. They represent a focused nebula of commerce deformed by capitalist propaganda. Stepping into a mall I feel like I'm entering a hallmark card written by George Orwell. Around the holiday season, gift-giving become a obsessive focus of many warm-blooded Americans. Yet the task of finding a gift that can be appreciated and treasure seems nearly impossible. Instead of taking the time to use our own repressed creativity by making something, we resort to the phenomenon of the gift card. "I don't know what the hell you want, so why don't you go figure it out on your own." The sad thing is I myself find it hard to know what I want around this time. I've always been very needy around present time. But for some reason this year, I don't think I truly want anything that can be "given," materialistically speaking at least. I'd like a correspondence in the form of a phone call or email. My upcoming brithday always coincides with the holiday season. Maybe it's because I'm "making"(a southern idiom) twenty four, or maybe it's because I'm so far from friends and family. But my birthday doesn't seem that special this year. If that's the unavoidable result of growing older then I don't like it. Dreams always seem to come true on my birthday. I mean, it was easily my favorite day of the year. As I grew older I'd always treasure those folks who would remember without me even mentioning it to them. I find this to be an impossible task, because I never remember anyone's birthday with the exception of my family. Dad: Oct. 21; Mom: Jan. 30; Corey: Sept. 17. When my sister turned 15 my grandmother passed away. I was never really close to my grandmother, and I felt more remorse for my sister, because she was devestated that she had to attend a funeral on her magic day. A year later, we attended my grandmother's grave unveiling. I don't mean to sound callous about my Bubbi's death, but I don't like seeing my sister feel sad. Death can be a confusing entity when it involves a person you either have no feelings towards or worse when you actively dislike that individual. Sometimes the emotions cause guilt, when we are expected to seel empathy. Sometimes they lead to anger, when others expect sadness. Are those deaths just as difficult to process as those of our dearest love ones? I guess not, because the impression of a person who had an emotional connection to us will most like outweigh those who we feel the opposite. Ok, I'm jumping around like a jumping bean. I've never seen a jumping bean jump. I'd like to see a jumping bean jump. And are all jumping beans Mexican?

Some people can spend weeks at a time without talking to another person. Some people can handle pressure and tension building up like a balloon ready to burst. Some people can cry at the drop of a hat. Earlier today I said "thank you" to a person, and it meant more to me than it ever possibly could have meant to her. My voice seemed to be synchronized with my purpose, which rarely happens, and I felt genuine. Sometimes I set my phone alarm and something goes wrong. The phone runs out of batteries. I set it for P.M. when I meant to set it for A.M. There are times when I sleep through it by accident and other times when I sleep through it on purpose. In television and the movies, there always seems to be a definitive turning point, an unmistakeably identifiable event, that leads to a timely revelation or well placed epiphanie. I find that those same moments rarely happen in real life. Often, the changes occursover a period of time that's invisible to the naked eye. It's like the never ending process of growing. Each year the tree adds another ring to the trunk and you wake up one morning, living over a thousand miles from your family, responsible for the education and emotional welfare of twenty-four innocent children who desperately want your attention, but can't find a meaningful way of obtaining it. It's true that many of the barriers we establish ourselves are imaginary, but it is our choice to either stay in the cage or fly out the window. Last night I flew out the window. I won't pretend that something incredible happened last night. I didn't find any real answers to any of the problems that are floating around in my head. I certainly did not encouter anything out of the ordinary. I just had fun and when it was time to go, I didn't want to leave. When the hurricane happened, I'm not denying that I freaked out. I had many hours of doubt and uncertainty. But I handled it. I made what seemed to be the right decision, knowing that I could possibly be in the situation that I am now. I've been lonely. Last night, even when I drove an hour back to my small bedroom alone, I didn't feel lonely. So today I called someone to thank them, and it felt good.

When I was in middle school, every January we'd have one special week that outclassed every other week across the entire school year: mini-course week. There were eight different themes to pick from and we'd spend the week doing various activities that revolve around the assigned theme. The week would end with an epic field trip unprecedented in the realm of middle school. In fifth grade, the theme I was assigned was flight. It happened to be on the bottom of my list. We learned about airplanes, rocket ships and even competed in a kite making contest. I made a massive kite using balsa wood and a black hefty bag. It was as majestic as a falcon, but being the fifth grader that I was, I had little to no chance of placing in the competition. I suffered minimal disappointment already knowing my predetermined fate. In sixth grade, I got a gem of a mini-course, Amish Country. The thrill was snuggled away in the disguise of the field trip. We had a fantastic dinner at the home of an Amish family. We milked cows. I remember buying an enormous bar of chocolate at the general store. Seventh grade was the highlight of my mini course experience. The whole week for Colonial times centered around the field trip to Williamsburg. We danced in a colonial ballroom. Got lectured by the folks people dressed in traditional garb. Meandered through the town perusing the churning of butter and useless gift shop paraphenalia. Eighth grade happened to be just as satisfying as seventh. We studied the sixties. We drank Tang, made tie-dye t-shirts, studied the music of Jimi Hendrix, and learned about the Vietnam War. I would advocate that mini-course week should be implemented in middle schools across the country. Viva la mini-course. I think it'd be a lot of fun to be invisible. I've always been a little bit skeptical about the logistics of it though. If I were invisible, would it be the kind where my clothes would be invisible too? I mean would they be invisible because I touched them or because they were made invisible when I was? If the latter was the case, I'd be stuck wearing the same clothes all the time. I don't believe there would be any invisible clothing stores. If the clothes became invisible because I touched them, wouldn't everything I touch become invisible, or would there be a proximity rule. If this was the case, I wouldn't have to worry about the conundrum of eating or drinking. I always thought'd it be gross to have to watch the food or liquid be digested and watching smoke inhaled would probably be depressing. I'd never want to be high while being invisible though because not only would I get extremely paranoid that others could see me, but the whole ideology of invisibility would be a complete mind-fuck. I guess, if all these side issues were solved, I'd love to take advantage of being invisible, but somehow I doubt the scientists would be able to answer all my questions. I know for sure that if it was irreversable, I'd absolutely refuse becoming invisible. If you could become invisible though, I'm sure it'd be advertised on the internet. The world already can be a pretty sketchy place, but I think it'd be a bit more fucked up if invisible people were roaming around. There might eventually be some social reaction to the "invisibles." They'd be rounded up like cattle and put into a room and spend the rest of their lives constantly bumping into each other mumbling "excuse me" and "sorry, I didn't see you there." Okay, weird post tonight. To be honest, it felt damn good to be

Let me explain why I chose not to write a post yesterday. It wasn't because I didn't have time. I actually feel like I had more time last night than I've had in a cool while. I just stumbled across some writer's block. There was nothing going on in my head that felt pertinent to a post. When I got home from school, I passed out for about two hours and woke up fully clothed and a bit disoriented. I didn't feel like discussing school, because the day had been extremely stressful. I could not possibly relive that by expressing my frustration. I hadn't been apart of any pop culture that made me vent. So thus, I let it go. Today, I feel refreshed. I didn't necessarily have any more energy than yesterday, I just felt more put together. When I finished tutoring a few Fourth graders for the leap, I went to Walmart and picked up a beautiful pair of gray starter sweatpants, a memory stick for my camera and a new leash for Jack. He had gnawed right through the old one so that I had to create a makeshift leash using three key chain necklaces tied together. My courtesy was extended to a nice woman who treated me like a Walmart employee, inquiring about the utility and practicality of getting a polaroid camera versus a digital camera. Her main concern was being able to have that immediate gratification of seeing the picture instantly. I explained that even though polaroid film is always a party just to have around, financially it would cripple her. She pointed out to me how cheap some of the digital cameras are nowadays. Now they were still expensive ($127), but she found a kids digital camera that was twenty bucks. Unfortunately, we couldn't figure out if she'd be able to see the image on the back. I'm not sure if I really was able to help her, but at least I was able to steer her away from the polaroid and that has to be a success in itself. When I got home, I went out for a jog with Jack and got dragged throughout the neighborhood. We had a great run of him running a few yards and me coughing like a locomotive. I think he might have even more energy now than usual. Isn't excercise supposed to wear him out? Other than that, I had to make some frightening telephone calls to parents who think I'm a horrible teacher. Ultimately, we were able to come to some mutual understandings and I hope it will benefit the behavior in the classroom. I almost forgot to mention that I got informally observed by my principal this morning. I expected her to out me as a fraud in the area of education, but to my dismay I got a surprisingly positive slew of comments. This all harks back on my magnanimous fear that I've faked my way through everything I've attempted/been responsible for in my life. I faked my way through High School, never doing my homework. I faked my way through college, never doing my homework unless essential. I felt like I was faking my way through this evn though I've gotten good feedback all along the way. Either I'm really awesome at faking, or my expectations of myself are too damn high. I'm not proud of these sentiments but maybe they're part of some specifically Jewish complex that I developed in childhood. Why Jewish, you ask? It all comes down to the pervasive burden of guilt. Always feeling guilty. I plan to enjoy the rest of my evening. Friday we are having a talent sho in class and I intend on taking many pictures with my new camera. As soon as I get home, I'll upload them to the blog. Await with baited breath. Curtains please.

I get such a thrill from seeing the Christmas decorations going up around the neighborhood. I now live in one of those neighborhoods that ferociously competes with their light and other paraphenalia. I thought Halloween was excessive, but Christmas here is completely over the top. For Halloween, one house had a massive spider web covering the door with a giant spider hovering in the corner. Driving down Somerset, I saw at least three nativity scenes, four snowman stand up statues and one giant blow up Santa Clause. I feel like every family thinks they're the Griswalds from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. I ran some errands this evening and made a stop at the local Winn Dixie. After collecting my usual groceries, I realized I need deoderant and casually made my way over to the appropriate aisle. As I was searching for my reliable Gillette Cool Wave, I found the recent phenomenon that is body spray. I must admit that I've been sucked in by the Axe and Tag commercials. I took a deep breath and threw some Axe into my cart. Ladies...my trepidation grows with anticipation on my first outing wearing the body spray. I've seen the commericals of women throwing themselves at men wearing the marketed body spray. Should I be afraid? Honestly, is it a cheap cologne or is there something more to it that I am missing? Please express your opinion with zeal. I finished The Confederacy of Dunces. It is drawn together at the end brilliantly. The climax has that satifying notion of bringing together all the subtle and not so subtle pieces that have been floating in the ether of the entire book. Well done John Kennedy Toole. I highly recommend the read. Even though he would need to wear a fat jacket, I do believe Will Ferrel could play a convincing Ignatius J. Reilly. We shall have to wait. I also received my digital camera in the mail! It was like Christmas early! Or Hannukah for that matter. Maybe I'm turning Christian like straight men can turn gay, haha (okay, bad joke). Anyway, hope all is well around the world. G'night.

Ah the joy of being super productive! Finished updating the electronic grade book and have been conducting the reading train like Casey Jones on crack...wait he was on crack. I'm chugging through The Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. Fascinating story this guy writes and even more interesting is his story. After he committed suicide, his mother brought the finished manuscript to a professor at Tulane University. The novel was published posthumously and went on to win a pulitzer. Another brilliant mind suffers by the slings and arrows of depression and society. His novel centers around a fat, flatulating, obnoxious, savant, Ignatius J. Reilly, who cruises the French Quarter quixotically with an obsession fixated on Boethius. An attempt to adapt the book to the silver screen has been thwarted on two accounts. The first actor to potentially portray the protagonist was John Belushi. We all know what happened there. The second victim of the Dunces' curse was John Candy. Thus I fear for the life of Will Ferrel who has been the most recent comedian to be tapped for the role. The ex-Saturday Night Live star must have a death wish. Anyway, I've only got about a hundred pages left and I might have it finished by this evening. My next project will be attached to the enigmatic Thomas Pynchon. I will be embarking on a welcomed return to the realm of post-modernism. Speaking in academic terms, I engaged in some revitalizing discussions with Corey over the break. Over the last two years, she has become inseparable from the writings of Freud. She has currently been dedicating her studies to his essays regarding the "uncanny." She even had me pick her up a survey of the exploits of the Uncanny X-men to include in her paper. Struggling to create a short story that is immersed in the uncanny, we discussed a variety of possibilities after watching a few classic Twilight Zone episodes and she settled on a narrative that pits a man and his doppleganger of a hitchhiker traveling through a darkened American landscape. The story has potential, I just worry about the inevitable cliches seeping between the clever dialogue and exposition. She'll handle it with poise. I thoroughly enjoyed "talking smart," it has been a while. Writing is a good outlet, but how easy it can be to flounder through pop culture and boredom into the land of status quo and repetition. The shock to my outer cortex will inhibit my mental return to Louisiana and perhaps influence and ultimately determine my future conquests in my social, professional, and geographical lifestyle. Random thought: Using a public bathroom where I am aware of the broken lock on the door can be terrifying. I have been walked in on twice at this local coffee shop, and while both myself and the guilty patron have handled the situation with grace, I now tend to avoid the facility for as long as possible. I enter the lavatory now with a steady string of faux coughs and sneezes that with great hope I intend to alert the offending company. I believe I was first traumatized by a similar experience at the impressionable age of ten. I had been frequenting the Hopewell Valley Tennis Center for years under the pressuring guidance of my father whose desire for me to become a professional tennis player was conceived before I was. An older gentlemen caught me with my pants around my ankles and a face as red as a fire engine. We shared that everlasting moment of awkwardness and yet I probably have carried it with me a good half a century longer than he did. So it goes. I truly hope that the levee comittee is planning on having bonfires again this Christmas. They have been suffering a political onslaught by the Governor, yet this tradition is not like allocating millions of dollars to a superfluous fountain. A very quaint tradition of lighting tens of hundreds of small bonfires in a string across the levee made that cold night fairly enjoyable last year. Since I believe I will be spending the winter holidays in the South, I do wish that the tradition continues. Farewell good friends. Tomorrow brings the beginning of that exciting stretch that lasts from Thanksgiving till Christmas. I will be a surgeon and slice through it with efficiency. Is there a saint I could pray to who represents efficiency? I'm sure I could google it, but the world of google deserves a break from the trivialities she is forced to endure. If I genedered Google, it would be a woman in my mind. Kinda like the way Kevin Smith feels about God.

Always a satisfying hike out to the Wachovia Center as long as the Sixers win. The game Monday night was over by halftime and I could not be happier. I felt a bit weird walking around the complex though because everyone was focused on raising money for Katrina victims. I was wearing my VooDoo fest black hoodie, but no one commented on it which was fine. I just felt like my presence should be known, that the people that these Philadelphians were supporting was me. Well not directly, but indirectly. I walked around wondering how many folks had a face to put on the tragedy. Before the game began, I ran down to courtside to try to get the attention of Chris Anderson. He really had no reason for recognizing me, but one night four months ago we had played poker at the same table in Harrah's for about two hours. Not only was he one of the tallest men I've ever seen in person, but he was a true celebrity celebrating. He was throwing his cash around, spilling tequila shots on the carpet. It made no sense for him to be sitting at the 3-6 Hold Em' tables but there he was in his glory. During warmup he sidled over to the scorers table and within earshot of me. I yelled, "Hey Chris!" He flashed me a cross between a gang sign and a peace sign. I responded, "Harrah's. Poker. New Orleans. How ya doin'?" He yelled, " Beat up man, beat up." I don't think we connected. For all I know, he just thought that I was a tourist who happened to see him on my visit there. I could have come up with something more genuine or pertinent like: the city's coming back, My refridgerator looks like shit, or I'm not voting for Nagin in February. That might have gotten at least a smile. So it goes. Finished the graphic novel "V for Vendetta" today. Great read. It has an air of intelligence that I should have expected from Alan Moore. Loaded with poetry and famous quotes. They are making a movie of it that is coming out in March. Hugo Weaving (Matrix) will be playing V and Natalie Portman will play the female lead. I've already seen the poster and it is stellar. Thanksgiving was a complete success. We had a veritable feast featuring fried turkey, vegetable laced stuffing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. The dessert was a homemade apple pie. All of it was delicious even though my mother harped on the fact that the mashed potatoes had way too much garlic and the apple slices in the pie were a bit too thin. Afterwards we played scrabble and my sister beat me for the first time. I even hit a bunch of the triple word scores but to no avail. The following night after a dinner that included my mom, sister, step dad, my step brother, his girlfriend and my step sister we played an amazing game called Apples to Apples. The main gist is you get seven cards that each have a noun on it. The person leading the round picks a card with an adjective on it and you attempt to present the most appropriate noun in your hand. If yours is chosen you win the hand. The game lends itself to hilarity. After the game I went out with Krishna to the Annex, a local bar in Princeton. I found myself overwhelmed by familiar faces of kids from my high school who I hadn't seen in five years. I approached very few in order to escape the awkward conversations that involve catching up. I finally flew back to New Orleans and was pleasantly surprised by the 75 degree weather. School begin again on Monday and I am apprehensive. I need to finish my progress reports and generally organize my classroom. I have a lot of preparation to do tomorrow so I plan on getting some sleep and crack at it in the morning. Much other news to discuss, but I'm feeling tired and uninspired. Sweet dreams and I hope y'all didn't miss me too much.

I always seem to gain a small amount of perspective when I visit the Big Apple. While there are hundreds of appealing idiosyncracies that make NYC distinctive, this weekend reinforced that I could never live there. I just can't bring myself to deal with how exhausting it is to get where you want to and see who you want to. A forty-five minute subway ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan just seems excessive. I did get to reconnect with a bunch of college friends. I also missed a bunch of people who were either out of town or busy. That's the problem, everything is too busy in New York. The cold weather doesn't help either. People race around clenching their teeth and avoiding eye contact. Saturday night I went to celebrate Jocelyn's birthday at Absolutely 4th. A typical club scene awaited and while there were plenty of attractive women and strong drinks flowing, there were a lot of people and the noise was oppressive. I didn't know anyone except the birthday girl and the three friends I arrived with. I had gotten stoned for the first time in a few months before I went over so I was not in any capacity to meet new people. I am now back in New Jersey sitting in my father's bachelor pad. I stopped at a comic book store in the city when I was hanging out with Sarah and picked up the graphic novel "V for Vendetta." I can't wait to dive into it because it was written by a pure genius, Alan Moore and there is a movie coming out that adapts it. Once I read more, I'll update y'all on my opinion. I generally want to begin reading more. It's been a while since a read a good book. I choose not to read in spurts because I when I find a novel I enjoy, I devour it. Thus, vacations always present perfect opportunities to get some serious reading done. Not much else to discuss except I can't seem to figure out my sister's newest infatuation with drunk dialing me. It's happened three times in the last month. While I find it mildly entertaining, it tends to leave me a bit concerned. Her latest communication included a picture message that was received two nights ago. Although it's tough to make out, I'm pretty sure it is a naked picture of one of her guy friends. There are many questions lingering around the purpose and subject matter of the message. I have yet to talk to her about it. Now that I'm back in Jersey I plan on trying to be reliable in my posts, but no guarante

Disaster averted! Dr. Motaghedi successfully fixed me. My ears are clean and clear and my pounding headache has subsided. Definitely got a little motivation to quit smoking. They had one of those "The consequences of smoking" posters hanging in the room and the lung of the smoke looked pretty nasty. If I had to spend one more moment imagining how similar my lungs were, I would have taken my pack and threw it out the window. I dropped off Jack at the kennel today. Everytime I put him up for a week I get serious heart pangs. The new kennel I took him to made me a bit nervous. It's no Pooch's Palace. The guy who took him was gruff and grizzly. If I get any indication that Jack was hurt during his week, I will never bring him back to that place. He was so scared when they led him to the back. He was literally shaking. It made me really sad. I can never lose him. I went back to New Orleans today to pick up Jack's vaccination papers for the vet and I must say that the city is back in full force. I've never seen it so busy. Every street was packed with traffic. The medians are littered with 12" by 12" info-mercials. One of those happened to be advertising the services of the one and only Kenya Rounds, the attorney I had met a few weeks prior at the Hookah Cafe. Small coincidence. Or is it? Maybe I need an existential detective. I'm starting to get giddy about going home. Going to live it up with Jocelyn in the city for her birthday Saturday night. I plan on having lunch with Sarah on Sunday and sprinkle some Mossberg wherever I can get a piece. Monday night I'm going to the Sixers game with pops. It should be a hoot. They're playing really well right now and it's helping take my mind off the tragedy of the Eagles. Coincidentally (again) they are to play the New Orleans/Oklahoma City Hornets. Oklahoma City just shouldn't be a part of the equation. No offense to those kind folks, and frankly I've never been within a hundred miles of Oklahoma, but they just don't seem like the kind of town to have a professional sports team. I dare you to prove me wrong. Just you go ahead. I'm getting a digital camera in a few days and I can't wait to begin photodocumenting all this crazy stuff ravaging around me. I lost my old one in the natural disaster whose name I will not speak. I'll be able to post pictures of Jack, my school, New Orleans etc. the possibilities are endless. Plus I'm feeling a desire to be creative. I feel like a poem... Blood pumps through the veins and over the pot-holes of a cancerous city. Strangers smile and talk about the ghost that leaves reminders in the medians and on the sidewalks. The old familiar smells begin to reclaim their places at the street corners. An old man walks slowly to his mark and brings his trumpet to his lips on South Claiborne Ave. Streetcars still hibernate or maybe they're bannished to a greater infrequency. The stray beads of past Mardi Gras have receded with the waters. Ageless trees become modern art and priceless ruins. Police sirens are oddly silent. Fresh horse shit fertilizes the streets of the French Quarter. Tourists arrive looking for horror and leave with guilt and a Katrina novelty T-shirt. I'm locked outside the gates of a two A.M. curfew, looking in.

Hi! How are you doing today? I'm fine, thanks for asking. I just got a fucking ear ache that's driving me insane! To make a long story short, I couldn't hear much on Tuesday and this morning my ear hurt pretty badly. Naturally, I hit up the local emergency room. After filling out the necessary forms (the receptionist personally asked me what religion I was, I answered Jewish, and she gave me an odd sort of look like I was from a different planet, which is true down here) I sat patiently in ER ..1. I felt like all the hype of the ER is completely overrated. The room did not look particularly sanitary and the doctor seemed lathargic, but I guess that makes sense when you're in there to treat someone with an ear infection. He was generally a nice guy though, and didn't seem too busy anyway. He filled up a syringe with warm water and tried to clear out my ear to no avail. I've got an appointment tomorrow with a good ear guy. I hope it works out, because I'm supposed to fly home Saturday, and the pressure could really screw things up. I won't be able to handle being stuck in La Place over Thanksgiving. When I got home after the doctor visit, I took some advil and watched the movie "Sideways" again. I didn't like it nearly as much as I had the first time I watched it. Even though Paul Giamatti(I think that's his name) is eerily similar to my best friend Mossberg, the movie is too damn depressing and slightly ambiguous at the end. I realize that is the point, but I just didn't enjoy it this time around. It also reminded me of an article from the New York Times I had read a few months back regarding what sort of outings are socially acceptable for two male friends to embark on. Not that I subscribe to social tenets for fear of being categorized as oh my god "homosexual'! Gasp! but it's funny how there are some outings men just inevitably feel completely awkward in. Sports games, bars, business related affairs, movies (has to be a guy movie though), strip clubs are all satisfactory. Art galleries, walks with no purpose, dinners at nice restaurants fall into that other category. The movie centered on a week long excursion to wine country with two male friends. True, I would not take a walk with a guy for no purpose or at least haven't at this point. Usually the purpose would be getting high. I have gone to Art galleries or nice restaurants. I've ocillated (like a fan baby) in my life from having a majority of female friends to male friends and back again countless times. I frequently switch friends often and I'm not sure as to why this is. Even though I am still in touch with friends from High School and college, I have a difficult time keeping in touch with anybody. I don't email my friends for some reason. I'll randomly call friends when I have time to kill. I'll just scroll down my contacts list and find folks I haven't talked to in a while. Sometimes the calls will go on forever, catching up on the big events in our lives, but it's hard to do that when you're not there, in the general location of your buddies. I had a philosophy for a while that it's hard to stay close with people when you don't know what is important to them in their lives. As time passes, people change and their priorities change. But then there are the friends that it doesn't matter how long it's been, you can always pick up right where you left off. I have two main friends from High School that I still keep in touch with on a regular basis: Alexa and Krishna. I've known Alexa since I was two years old, so she is more than a High School friend. I still remember being three years old and walking out of the movie theater after seeing E.T. I was balling my eyes out that Elliot and E.T. couldn't stay together, and she was repeating her favorite phrase from the movie over and over, "Penis breath." She was a very precocious tot. Krishna and I became close friends in 8th grade and went through our incredibly awkward stages together. If that doesn't facilitate bonding, I don't know what does. He is easily one of the most brilliant individuals I've ever met. He's stylish, confident, and genuine. He's never on time. He pursues all his interests with an admirable passion and if I were gay, our friendship would be very awkward and mysterious...My dad is still close with all of his friends from High School. They practically all still live in New Jersey or Pennsylvania. I think it's pretty cool to have had close friends for such a long period of your life. My friends are definitely what potentially will draw me back to the northeast. Tangent: I also watched Harold and Kumar go to White Castle last night. Which leads me to my epic conclusion of this post. Top Three New Jersey based movies in no particular order: Clerks Garden State Harold and Kumar go to White Castle All three embrace the gritty Jersey. Jersey is indescribable, yet each of these movies nail a tone that cannot be explained in words. I'll still attempt to do so...It's just a feeling you get when you're driving down the turnpike or if you're lost in Newark or Trenton. It's hanging outside the Circle K. It's affluent suburbia and ghetto suburbia side by side. It's locking your car doors in the parking lot of Quakerbridge Mall, but not at MarketFair down the road. It's the anthrax that was found in the same Post Office as the one in the zip code of my Dad's office that washed him into an FBI interrogation room. It's the flora and the fauna (as my mom always says). The fauna being the deer or opossum or cat or rat that tragically leaves a red stain on the late night backroad under a curtain of fog and a swerve of tire tracks. It's being eight years old and seeing your older cousin Michael turned into a piece of paper at a David Copperfield show in Atlantic City. It's a place you either never leave or never go back to. Would it be tacky or a symbol of dirty love to get an outline of such a maligned state on my upper arm? This is my year long contemplation. Never had a tattoo, but I might be due. It just means I won't be able to be buried in a Jewish cemetary. My sister burned that bridge years ago. If she's going to hell, can I go with her?