Fatal Abstraction

My Year in New York

Sat, 04 Aug 2012 14:13:27 -0400

As I sit here, on August 3rd, 2012, I reflect upon the past year. One year ago, my biggest dream came true. No, not the technology for full hair restoration (fingers crossed…still), but that I moved to New York City.

I have had some of the best times of my life this past year. And have met some of the most amazing and influential people, as well as reconnecting with a few friends from the past.

I decided that I would post my 50 favorite memories, although there are hundreds more, complete with pictures and stories. I am so grateful for the love and support I have had from my family and friends this past year. And this blog is dedicated to them.

iHate Smart Phones

Fri, 11 May 2012 11:54:17 -0400

Cell phones, well now called Smart Phones, are taking over the world! Forget zombie, vampire, or alien attacks. This is what we should be afraid of now! Phones nowadays can do just about anything, when their only, original purpose was to make phone calls! Right? Who’s with me? Can I get a what-what?

Phones used to be stationed at home, usually in the kitchen or hung on the wall somewhere. If someone called you and you missed it, eh. No big deal. You moved on. Then “they” created the cell phone. Now you could dismantle that wall-phone, cut the cord, and carry this device in your pocket (well, the ones made after 1998) and never miss a phone call again. This advancement I am totally for.

But in the last ten years, technology – especially with phones - has amazed me with everything they can do. You can find movie show times, receive spoken directions to the movie theater, purchase your ticket without waiting in line, and even gain enough points to get a free small popcorn. What’s next? You’ll be able to watch a movie ON your phone??? Oh…

If anyone knows me personally (or the six of you subscribed to my blog) you can decipher that I am against all new technology involving communication. As a graduate with my Masters* in Communications, I have spent many hours studying and researching** the effects of face to face interpersonal communications, and not only do cell phones do the exact opposite, but I believe they hinder communication altogether.

Have you, a person without an iPhone (or android for that matter) gone out to dinner with someone with an iPhone (or android)? To you, you are enjoying a nice meal with a friend, catching up and discussing the events in your life. To them, they are out enjoying a meal, at a restaurant they found on Yelp, checking in on Facebook, uploading a picture, tagging you, asking you for a clever caption of said picture, tweeting a funny anecdote of their inner monologue while waiting for dessert, drawing a picture of a fire truck for their friends to guess, and playing the word “enation” to win the game on words with friends…all the while you are sitting there, right in front of them, at dinner.

Aside from all the applications, or “apps” - (remember when “apps” was short for mozzarella sticks??) phones receive emails and text messages. So, not only is your friend playing Family Feud with their college roommate, they are also able to get emails from Victoria’s Secret and texts from their friends, parents, and childhood next-door neighbors.

The cell phone is like an uninvited guest, sitting at the table, blinking that red light, waiting to be held. Put it on silent and in your pocket/purse/backpack and enjoy the present company.

These smart phones are ruining face-to-face communication and, well, dumbing us down. No one calls anymore. A text is the easier, more efficient way of getting in touch with someone. Again, I totally understand and agree. “Will you pick up a bottle of red wine on your way?” or “I work at noon” are totally fine examples of text message conversations. Simple, to the point statements or questions that only require a single word answer, if any answer at all. But, “Hey! It’s been forever, how have you been? What’s new? Did you ever get that rash figured out?” are NOT text message conversations. If you really want to know, pick up the phone and call them. Don’t make them type out a four page response on what’s been new in their life (or make them type “it was just genital herpes***”).

So, reader(s) and friend(s) and…well, Mom, I ask you to show a little respect towards your friends who ARE present and try, for those one or two hours to put your phone away and give them your undivided attention. Thank you.

* Bachelor’s Degree – But I was there long enough to get a Masters.

** I couldn’t afford text books and failed intro to Communications.

*** Everything cleared up.

If you liked this article, find me on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Four Square or just email me at my two accounts. Or you could always text (not call) me at my cell number ANY time. My handle for words with friends is JimmyKool and my download of Draw Something is currently loading (will get back to with that).

The Exchanging of Gifts

Wed, 11 Jan 2012 23:31:40 -0500

Finally the holidays are over and the time of giving has concluded and we are back to our normal, self-centered selves. Ah. Feels good, doesn’t it? But, with the act giving gifts to friends, family, and loved ones, thus comes the act of receiving gifts from those aforementioned. And the act of, well, acting.

There is nothing worse than getting a gift and realizing you hate it five seconds after the paper has been torn off. So, without hurting the other persons feelings, we, as the receivee (that’s a word, right?) must hone into our Meryl Streep acting techniques and try our best to convey that we really do love the paper weight our grandmother gave us or the duck pajamas our significant other keeps thinking are cute and comfortable. It’s is truly hard work. Believe me.

I just celebrated Christmas with my family this past weekend (yes, I know – a few weeks late, but remember, I’m a big shot in New York City and rarely have time for anyone else). Luckily, this year my mother finally learned and stuck to the list. Everything I had asked for I got. (Thanks, Mom). But, there were still some “surprises” waiting underneath the tree. Things I had not asked for, but my mother said “just screamed James”. Naturally, the things that screamed James to her just made me…Scream.

I tried my best to pretend I loved the green corduroy pants 3 sizes too big, or the pen thats also a flashlight, or the 8x10 of her and my father, but I’m no Meryl Streep. Without even having a chance to fake-smile, my mother already knew – I hated them.

So, the exchanging of gifts on Christmas turns to the exchanging of gifts the next day. In a statistic that I just made up, nearly 65% of gifts are returned each year. That’s almost half. And what surprises me even more is that the department store sales people are never adept at handling the most simple of returns.

I don’t think that I have ever in my 25 years of not liking presents ever had a breezy return. I am always “that guy” at the register for forty minutes while Sally looks at me like I just asked for a piggy back ride in the women’s lingerie section. So she types on the computer, hitting buttons at random, asking her work associates to come over and help. Which they do, then shake their head, and then tell Sally to get the (dun dun dun) Manager. So now, what should have been quick and easy is now becoming…long and hard. Okay. Maybe that wasn’t the best antonym choice.

So, because you do not have the receipt with you (and why would you have the receipt? I hate when they expect you to have the receipt. It’s a gift for returning out loud!) they can only offer you the sale price, which is always in the four dollar range. And you know they are ripping you off, but at this point, you always take it, because you know that you are almost out of the store and onto the next one to do the exact same thing.

I spend more time exchanging gifts than I do shopping for them. That should tell you something, shouldn’t it? Well, I don’t know if it should. That just sounded like a good point to make. Okay, returning to the returning topic. I don’t think, as society, we will ever come to a gift-giving-conclusion where we will always be 100% happy with the gifts we get. But, to me, that is sort of the enjoyment. You don’t always want to get what you want. Where is the fun in that? No..wait. Getting what you want is actually a lot of fun.

Another thing. People always complain to those who are repeat offenders and beg “Just get me a gift card”. I, for one, am a huge supporter of the GC (that’s gift card) but it reallllllly shows you how much someone cares for you with how much they put on it. When someone buys you a gift, say, a candle, it could be a really nice, expensive, Gucci-esque candle that smells like napalm. Or, it could be from the Dollar General. You don’t know. So your relationship stays the same. Just with a better aroma.

But, when they are restricted to get you a gifty-c, you know the exact monetary value of how much you are worth. Sometimes you are pleasantly surprised. And sometimes you get one from Starbucks without enough money to buy a grande frappucino. This is when you start deleting people out of your life. But that’s a whole other blog entirely.

I hope that you all got what you wanted this Christmas, one way or the other. But remember, the holidays aren’t about gifts and presents and money. It’s about spending time with the ones you love. * Happy New Year!

*I couldn’t even get through that sentence without laughing.

Speak Now.

Wed, 23 Nov 2011 12:44:41 -0500

Last night I was supposed to go see the Taylor Swift concert at Madison Square Garden. Key words: Supposed to. I didn’t have tickets, but I thought showing up an hour before the show started with a hundred dollars in my pocket would gain me two tickets into the arena. As you can probably infer, it did not and my night ended pretty early. However, on the way home, I passed a Best Buy retail store and purchased her concert on DVD. It’s sorta the same thing. Right?

As soon as I got home, I put the DVD in and sat on my bed and watched it. At first, I was getting depressed and said to myself “I don’t want to see this! This exact show is going on one mile from my bedroom!” but then the opening of the concert came on and I got a whole new attitude and perhaps, perspective, on the night. The beginning monologue of the show was, and is, my favorite part, because it embodies all of the reasons as to why I am a Taylor Swift fan. I know I get a lot of flack from people as to why I am such an avid fan, but I truly believe that this 21 year old has a great outlook on life, and knows just the right words to say what everyone is thinking.

Take her album and tour title, for instance. Speak Now. Most people that hear that don’t really think about the importance of those two words. What exactly is speaking now? And why should we do it? Well, I will tell you. But first I will tell you in the words of Ms. Swift herself.

“Real life is a funny thing, you know. In real life, saying the right thing at the right moment is beyond crucial. So crucial, in fact, that most of us start to hesitate, for fear of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But lately what I’ve begun to fear more than that is letting the moment ass without saying anything. I think most of us feat reaching the end of our life, and looking back regretting the moments we didn’t speak up. When we didn’t say ‘I love you’. When we should have said ‘I’m sorry’…There is a time for silence. There is a time for waiting your turn. But if you know how you feel, and you so clearly know what you need to say, you’ll know it. I don’t think you should wait. I think you should speak now.”

I remember the day I first read that paragraph on the insert of her CD and then hearing it spoken when I saw her concert in June, and then remembering it last night when I watched the concert. It made me really think for a while. So much, in fact, that I put the DVD on pause and opened Microsoft Word to write about it.

I cannot even count the times when I had the chance to speak up and say what it was I wanted to say, but out of fear and feeling vulnerable, I just let the moment pass me by. I want to kick myself every time I think of those moments. I feel so ashamed that I didn’t have the confidence and courage to tell people to their face that I loved them. Or that I was sorry. Or that they meant the world to me. I now have to live with those passing moments every day, and it is one of the worst feelings.

I urge you to take Taylor (and mine’s) advice and Speak Now. Don’t be nervous, scared, or embarrassed by the other person’s reaction or answer. Putting yourself out there is one of the hardest, yet greatest, things us as humans can do. Don’t live your life in regret.

So go out and tell someone what they need to hear. You never know. They could be in the same position as you and are just waiting for the perfect opportunity. There are too many stories I have heard about missed love and lost chances. Don’t walk away. Don’t hesitate. And don’t procrastinate. You never know what could happen tomorrow.

Thank you for reading this and giving me the chance to speak now.

I love you.

I am sorry.

You mean the world to me.

- James

Quarter of a Century

Mon, 14 Nov 2011 20:03:32 -0500

This past week everyone who has wished me a Happy Birthday has said “You’re a quarter of a century old now!” (Oh, and if you are reading this and did not wish me a happy birthday, please go on Facebook and do so. And then continue reading. You haven’t truly wished me a happy birthday unless it is on Facebook.) Where was I? Oh, right. Being a quarter of a century old. Every time it was said to me, I just did my “polite chuckle” – you know, the one you do when your grandmother says something crazy or your co-worker makes an inappropriate joke about the Holocaust.

I don’t know why, but I just don’t get the significance of the term. I am 25. And yes, 25 is a quarter of a century (1/4 for you math geniuses, Harvard graduates, and rain men out there) but after the nineteenth person said it to me I got a little agitated. We don’t say to someone turning five “Ah! Happy Birthday Susie! You’re half a decade!” or to someone turning 77 “Ah! You’re really old, Ned!”

My point, and I did have one, but I lost it when I was thinking about that Holocaust joke my co-worker told me the other day. In any event, I am 25, and as much as I thought I would dread it and be scared, I’m surprisingly okay with it. A lot has changed this past year and I finally feel like an adult. I graduated college, moved to New York City, and have a big-time job working on Wall Street*. I have left the guidance (and monetary bearings) of my parents and am finally taking care of myself; both personally and financially. Can I ~~borrow~~ have ten dollars?

I am so grateful, honored, and sometimes confused with how many amazing people I have in my life and was truly blessed and surprised with how many of you wished me a Happy Birthday - and meant it. I don’t mean logging onto Facebook and going to that side panel and just typing a generic Birthday message and clicking ‘enter’ before realizing you spelled my name wrong (Aunt Judy) but taking time out of your day to make the phone call, write an email, or send a text message. I will save each one. Oh, shit. I thought I hit ‘save’ but instead hit ‘delete all’. Anyways, I am grateful.

I had the chance to go to Florida for the week to see my family and friends and celebrate my birthday. Luckily my big corporate job allowed for the paid week off**. And while I was there on my vacation I got to see so many people that I have missed while I have been away in New York. Each and every joke was still funny and it seemed no one had really changed. It was as if I had never left. So, thankfully Delta let me fly out a few days earlier so I didn’t have to spend any more time with those people. I am just kidding! I flew United.

Okay, I have been rambling on and on and on about me and my birthday and some of you are like “We get it!” or “Happy Birthday Blue Eyes!” or “What’s that Holocaust Joke?”

But thank you all so much for being there for me and I know you will all help make 25 the best year ever. Because I am the square root of 625! Or two dimes and a nickel. Or three nickels and a dime. Or half way to 50! Or almost 30! Or, my favorite, a quarter of a century!

* Some items in this sentence are false/incorrect.

** Again, sadly, this is not true.

It's Up To You, New York

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 23:18:20 -0400

“If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere”…

Ahh, those famous lyrics crooned by the legendary Frank Sinatra. I remember being about six or seven and hearing this song for the first time with my parents. We were in my dad’s 1979 beige Crown Victora towncar listening to a Rat Pack cassette tape while driving to Friendly’s for an “after church” treat.

I demanded an ice cream sundae for being inconvenienced on a Sunday morning and dragged, against my will, to church. My parents were devout Catholics while I was in the process of converting to Judiasm. Since I wasn’t a full-on Jew at the time, and under the age of ten, my parents still made me go with them to Sunday mass.

“Can’t we at least stop for bagels and shmear on the way?” I would whine from the backseat.

Tony Bennett had just finished singing “Tender is the Night” and the next sound I heard was this powerful saxophone playing the intro to “New York, New York”. I was suddenly in a trance. I sat quietly and listened to each word, memorizing the message into my 2^nd grade brain.

“I wanna live there! In the city that never sleeps! Can i? Can i?” I shouted as we pulled into the packed Friendly’s parking lot. In between screams I took note that this place was becoming way too popular and I needed to find a new, low key, ice cream joint.

My mom, ever so sweetly adjusted her scarf, put her arm around my father’s chair and turned to me and said, “I don’t want you living in that God Damned city. You hear me?” And with that, she did the sign of the cross. I tried to fight with her. “But ma-“ I whimpered.

“That’s the end of the conversation James Christopher. Now, do you want that cone head sundae? Then don’t mention it again!”

And let’s face it. I wanted that cone head sundae.

As the years went on, my infatuation with New York City grew and grew, much to my mother’s dismay. I hung pictures all over my room of the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, and the Brooklyn Bridge. I guess you could say I was a fan of the book The Secret. If you’re not familiar with the book, it says to surround yourself with pictures and anecdotes of something you want in your life, and if you look at it every day, it will happen.

And it did.

It is now 18 years later, and with much convincing, my mother changed her outlook on The Big Apple. Sure, she is skeptical, as a mother should be, but she is also very supportive of what I want in life. As a mother should be.

Those little town blues sure melted away and I am now a resident in the so called “City that never sleeps” and it is exciting, and thrilling, and special. But most of all, it is tiring.

I never knew how much walking I would do. Just today I walked almost 3 miles. Back in Florida, I walked a cumulative of three miles a year. Now, I was doing it on a regular basis. The plus side is that I don’t feel as guilty when I gorge myself with Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Or the pizza shop that is conveniently located directly underneath my apartment building.

Besides all of the strolling and strutting I have been up to…and believe me, I have been strutting…I have been on a mission to find a job! Actually, as I write this entry, I am going back and forth between Microsoft Word and Career Builder.com. I sort of realized that in order to live in the city you must work in the city. So I will sit here and apply for every job that I think I could do: Marketing executive, Copywriter, Chipotle Cashier. And I will find a great job. I know I will. But until then, I will just sit it out and wait because it’s not in my hands. It’s up to you, New York.

New York.

The Dating Game

Tue, 01 Mar 2011 01:19:35 -0500

Today as my blackberry shot off that obnoxious sound to alert me of a new text message from a new beau, I got to thinking of the rules and regulations one must follow in order to play the dating game. Dating, unlike any Milton Bradley board game, comes with no manual explaining the step by step instructions on how to win against the opponent. And phones, especially the iPhone, Blackberry, and any other smart phone device out there leave us to feel clueless, confused, and just plain stupid.

Should dating be a strategic and carefully planned part of life? Must we devote so much time and attention to get people to like us? I wish it was as simple as the game of Life. But, low and behold, there is no clear path that directs us to a job, spouse, 2.5 children, or even the Victorian mansion. We usually just get stuck with a GED education, remain single, and living in the Beach Shack.

Instead, dating has turned more into the game of Risk. Every text we send, every call we make, every voicemail we leave, we are risking everything we have to see or hear from that person again. If we text too soon, we come off as desperate and needy - too late, and we are uninterested and apathetic.

There aren’t black and white signs telling us what to do. And there are no useful information directed by a set of dice will to direct us on how to tactically beat the opposing team. No one informs us who killed who with the candlestick in the conservatory and no one is telling us to not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. We in turn look to our friends, the player to the left and right of us. We listen to the advice they give, and hopefully they are trying to help us…and not sink our battleship.

Perhaps what we must do, as players of this game called love, is redefine the rules and regulations to our own terms. To something that makes us have an advantage to the other player. Maybe what we should do is get a clue, try not to be sorry, and stop getting into trouble. But the most important thing I have learned is to always take a chance. You never know, you could meet the love of your life. Just make sure you don’t get sent to jail.

I end this blog with a question to my readers. Hopefully I am up to four by now. In the dating game, can there ever be a tie?

Blogger's Block.

Sun, 28 Nov 2010 23:08:11 -0500

So…

I have been staring at my laptop screen for close to two hours trying to think of my next big “Blog” that I can share with you guys. So far, all I got was “I know we believe in love at first sight, and if you know my personal life, lust at first sight, but have we ever considered loathe at first sight”? Or “My life is one long, continuous run on sentence in desperate need of punctuation”. Or this one. “In life, we set sail on many different ships - friendships, championships, apprenticeships, and hardships - but when it comes to relationships, do we set our sails or just follow the wind?”

Sure, if I had the material I could indulge on these topics and somehow create a story or lesson for my readers (hopefully I now have more than 4) and help them relate it to their lives. But, as the title of this blog suggests – I got nothin’!

Months ago when I started this blog, ideas came efficaciously. I sometimes would write three or four in a one day period and have to spread the love out over a few weeks. Now, I would pay someone to give me something to write about. And maybe I will. Minus the whole money thing.

Another reason for the lack of inspiration has been due to my hectic and busy schedule. I have really put most of my time and effort into my schoolwork, being that I am a senior graduating in less than a month. Maybe I should write a blog about that? Eh. I feel that most of my friends would read it and respond “We get it!” …

…I guess I have kind of talked everyone’s ear off with that.

So, if you have an idea or a concept you would like me to write about: love, relationships, friendships, country music, Michael Jackson, the NY stock exchange, etc. Let me know! I could use all the help I can get.

Just get me out of this bloggers block and bring the blogs back! (anyone else love alliteration as much as I do?!)

Waiting...

Mon, 25 Oct 2010 22:45:16 -0400

Working in the restaurant business, you get the chance to meet and interact with hundreds of people a night, whether it be your coworkers or your guests. I have had the privilege of working with some insanely interesting people at my time in this business, and have also met some people who, for unknown reasons, scare the living crap out of me. It is a fun way to make money because aside from the mundane rituals of serving someone a cheeseburger and coke, there is always someone there to make you laugh, someone to share insight into the future, and someone there that makes you thankful you don’t have their life.

As for the customers, I try not to get too involved with them. If they are fun, I go with it. But most of the time all they want to do is eat. And I am just a person with the power to make that happen. I try not to let guests bum me out too much, and definitely don’t take it to heart when I don’t get a “20 percent tip” (gasp!)

But the other day I had the strangest interaction with a couple dining at my restaurant. They were my last table of the night, and getting out of there was the only thing on my mind. I was tired, I smelt as if I bathed in French fry oil, and my body odor was starting to repel people. I dropped off their check, ensuring there was no rush for them to close out with me, even though I prayed they would put in cash real quick and leave. As I started to walk away, the man asked me “Hey, waiter. What exactly are you waiting for?”

This question stopped me in my tracks, and although he was trying to be, I don’t know, humorous, it struck a nerve in me that made me contemplate my existence for hours after my shift was done. I did a polite laugh, shrugged my shoulders, and replied “Besides the last installment of the Harry Potter franchise, the future”.

For the past few years I have been struggling to get out of Florida, with a degree in my hand, and it has taken me longer than expected. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. Well, I mean I like it here just fine. But lately I have started to have the growing-up-itch in me and I have yet to scratch. I want to move somewhere different and start my career, whatever that may be. I want to travel to places I have never been. Ireland, Greece, Pennsylvania.

I feel that these next few months will be the hardest for me. I am going to cherish the time I have left with my amazing friends down here and take every opportunity I can get, because I know that my time here in Orlando is coming to an end. And until that time, all I can do is wait.

Life is Beautiful

Mon, 13 Sep 2010 21:32:00 -0400

I just got home from meeting a beautiful little baby born last week named Isabella, nicknamed Bella. And it was the perfect way to end a perfect day. (Dr. Seuss?) Lately, I have been trying to look at the positive side of life. Seeing the glass half full, if you will. I always like to think that I am an optimistic and hopeful person, but lately I have been seeing a dark and ugly side of my perspective.

I am so quick to jump down someone’s throat or start my day with a negative attitude because of some stupid, minute detail (out of coffee, it’s raining, no more clean underwear) instead of looking in the mirror and being thankful that I have my health, family, and friends for another day.

I think people nowadays are so used to this way of thinking, that everything that could go wrong will go wrong. And this is how the phrase “FML” originated. A phrase I hate with every being of my body and one you will never hear me say. Not even on the worst of days. It is such a strong message to be sending out. Since when was it the end of the world that Dunkin’ Donuts doesn’t have the veggie cream cheese spread? Or that the TiVo didn’t record the latest episode of The Hills? (is that show even on anymore?) Sure, these are all minor obstacles and annoyances, but to utter “FML” about them? I don’t think so.

People, especially in America do not know how good they have it. I suggest before you use the phrase “FML” again, you should maybe visit a 3rd world country and gain some perspective on life. Sure, the veggie cream cheese spread is amazing, but least you have breakfast. We need to start celebrating the good instead of the bad! When something good happens, show it! Tell people, and forget the bad.

As I mentioned before, today I met the most beautiful baby girl, and holding her in my arms, I did not have a care in the world. Out of her tiny greyish-blue eyes, everything in the world is perfect, and she is just taking it all in. Smiling the entire time. I do not want this baby to grow up in a world where people just give up and curse life because things are not going the way they planned.

Life is about obstacles. It is about aggravation, and frustration. It is about simple pleasures and serious irritations. It is inevitable. But, little by little, things will get better, and life will change on its own, if we look at the bright side. Because life is beautiful “La Vita Bella”

No Ifs, Ands, or Butts

Wed, 01 Sep 2010 00:07:00 -0400

I am a smoker. Ugh, just writing that is disgusting and depressing. And when I get depressed, I have a cigarette. So, I’ll be right back.

…

Okay, back.

As I was saying, I am a smoker, and have been for the past 6 years. Wow. Since I turned 18, I have been smoking Marlboro lights. Some days I only will have three and some days I will knock off an entire pack without even thinking. I am not stupid or ignorant, I know that smoking kills, makes me age quicker, stains my teeth, gives me an off-putting smell, and yet still makes me look cool.

Every New Years Eve for the past three years, as part of my resolution list, I run to the local CVS and purchase the 50$ Nicotine patches and savor the taste of my “last ever cigarette” before the clock strikes midnight. Usually by 10:30am New Years Day I am back out on my patio, cigarette in hand, and excuses in progress.

“It’s the best cure for a hangover.”

“I already bought the pack, I might as well finish it”

“It’s not New Years Day in Australia yet.”

I have now started to really realize how much I do not need cigarettes. None of my friends smoke, so it isn’t even a social thrill anymore. I feel that I get judged, by new acquaintances or even people on the street. I don’t want a cigarette to define who I am. It is now turning into a lifestyle change, and not just a habit dropping. If I begin to cut out the things that go so well with a cigarette – coffee, red wine, stress, one night stands – I will be able to quit the habit that much easier.

So, finally, after years of putting it off, I am going to terminate the tabacco. For good, without any gums or patches or pills. And I think that with enough perseverance and determination, I can quit cold turkey.

This is my time. I have to quit. No ifs, ands, or butts.

A Word In Progress

Thu, 26 Aug 2010 21:19:58 -0400

After being completely enveloped in my new favorite book “Eat, Pray, Love” – yes, I tend to follow the crowd when it comes to reading – I decided it would be a good idea to go see the movie the minute I finished the last chapter. And I did.

I don’t know if it’s the complete opposite with how you, my public followers, read books which you enjoy, but with me, I never want to finish them. I know usually when you are reading a book you cannot put down, you…don’t put it down. I wish I was like that. I would have actually finished the book 2 weeks earlier. But, unfortunately I read one or two chapters in a night, and as soon as it starts getting good, I put it down and find something else to occupy my time. Usually involving macaroni and cheese, porn, and wine. In that order.

Okay, I am getting off track.

A part I took from the movie/book was how they defined cities and themselves by a single word. I left the theater in a constant contemplation as to what my word would actually be. The thesaurus became my best friend that night. Sorry Lindsay.

I thought of every word that not only described me, but overall defined me. I confided in friends to even help put an end to my search. The answers I received were smart, funny, and handsome. While all true, I wanted to stay away from words that just dealt with character and physical traits.

Two days later, still searching, I discovered five words that I thought explained exactly where I am at in this time of my life. They were skeptical, indecisive, inconclusive, hopeful, and blessed. I thought about if for a while, well, 25 minutes, and wanted to see which direction I could go in with either of the word selections.

Sure, I’m skeptic, but who isn’t? Indecisive, that fits. I can’t even choose a word that defines me. Inconclusive labels my question on what I want to do with my life once I leave Orlando. I am hopeful that whatever decision I ultimately make, will be the correct one (there goes that skepticism again). And blessed. I pause at blessed.

I can sit here and talk about being scared about the future for days. Because I am. But I do not know what is in store for me in the next month, or even year. I can only discuss the past, because that is what I know. And what I know is that I have been blessed with such an amazing family and group of friends who I could not live without. We do everything imaginable together. Whether it be laughing, dancing, drinking, or talking. But most importantly, we eat, pray, and love.

Is there a sole meaning of 'Soul Mates'?

Mon, 16 Aug 2010 03:37:27 -0400

Everyone uses the phrase “soul mate” so loosely these days and usually it is being referred to the person that they are dating at the time. I (ahem) have this…friend, who thinks that every person they date is their soul mate. I, I mean my friend, has probably had about 10-15 soul mates just this past year.

What makes someone a soul mate? Does it indeed only have a sole, individual meaning? Does it only apply to relationships? Can it apply to friendships? Extended family, perhaps? I used to think a soul mate was someone who got you. Someone who understood everything there was about you, and you with them. If you were a puzzle, this other person would be that last piece that fit perfectly into you to portray a beautiful picture.

I think nowadays we believe so heavily in soul mates that we force the meaning onto every relationship we have. “Omg, we shop at the same grocery store – soul mates. We have the same auto insurance – soul mates. We order the same value meal at Wendy’s – soul mates.” These characteristics are so broad and ubiquitous. I am sure that there are more than 2 people in this world that order the double cheeseburger value meal with no pickles and a sprite to drink. If you are someone that orders this exact meal, and is reading this right now, email me!

But what really got me thinking about the term soul mates was a chapter in this book I am reading. The author states that she has this friend, and she asked him what his idea of a soul mate was, and his answer really stuck out for me. So much, that it completely changed my current view of the term. He said:

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it.”

From now on I am not going to look to every person I date as a soul mate, or try to label the “perfect person who also drives a silver car” as my soul mate. My soul mate will be the sole person who comes into my life and changes me. Opens me up to a new life with new experiences, and shows me a different way of living, for the better. And then, all of sudden will just leave. No tears and no regrets. I look forward to meeting this “soul mate” of mine so I can learn and grow into a much better person.

Living in a Technology World

Mon, 09 Aug 2010 22:08:46 -0400

I know that the 80’s were about living in a material world, and in the 90’s were about living in a chia pet’s world, but is the millennium about living in a technology world? I find myself contemplating this very thing on a day to day basis. Going to school learning about all different types of communication, and the importance of having a conversation, it seems that perhaps I am wasting my (and my tax dollars) money. How often does interpersonal (person-to-person) communication really happen? These days, probably never.

Don’t get me wrong. Technology is amazing. Awesome, in fact. I use it every day. Hell, I am using it right now to type this out. The world is immersed in different devices to make communication easier and more efficient. We have the iPhone, which I will stand by as the biggest hindrance in technological advances. Have you ever tried having a meal with someone who owns an iPhone? It is almost impossible. These people are connected to thousands of people all the time. The phone calls, the texting, the emails, the facebook, the twitter, the myspace (wait, no one uses myspace anymore, right?), the words with friends, the skype, etc. When you have all that, why sit down and talk to someone that is right in front of you?

As mentioned above, I am a big supporter on technology. It helps me keep in close contact with numerous friends and family that I normally would not be able to see on a regular basis. I get to see my nieces school dance pictures through facebook, I can email my high school friends and see what they are up to post-graduation, and I can skype with my mom and dad (if they figure out how to turn on the computer first. We had this issue once. I don’t want to talk about it).

I just wish that technological communication would take a back seat to face-to-face conversations. People do not understand how rude it is to pick up the phone and text while they are in the company of friends. It would be the equivalent to me picking up a magazine or newspaper and reading it in the middle of your important and heartfelt conversation.

So, take this as a lesson to never take for granted the person sitting across from you. Soon, they will be the people deleting you off of facebook and hitting the ignore button when you call. And I in turn will take this as a lesson that we are indeed living in a technology world, and I am a technology boy.

Used To

Sat, 07 Aug 2010 01:01:42 -0400

I used to think you were different

Someone special and unique

I used to think you cared for me

By the way you kissed my cheek

I used to think you loved me

By the way you made me feel

I used to believe in love

Because with you, it felt so real

I used to believe in happiness

That everything would work out right

I used to just lie in bed

Wanting to hold onto you so tight

But now I feel only nothing

And I wish you only knew

That I go through the same routine

Because that’s what I’m used to.

The Postponed Prelude

Tue, 03 Aug 2010 23:22:43 -0400

I guess I should have written the introduction to my blog before I rambled on and on about clothes, and scrapbooks, and hangers. What can I say, when you feel inspiration, go with it.

So, uh, here it is. My blog. Fatal Abstraction. Pun intended. I don’t know what made me decide to finally get my own blog site up and running. I think I am about 5 years too late. Does anyone do this anymore? Oh well, I am used to being behind the trend. I just found out 3 days ago that Jnco Jeans are a big faux pas. Next they are going to tell me that AirWalks are out dated, and that no one carries around a Tamagotchi anymore.

What will this blog contain? Well, I cant answer that. I am going to try to write about simple, unpretentious, concepts and ideas. Things that my readers (yes, the two of you) can relate to, instead of rambling on and on about the effects of global warming or ‘what I did today’. I don’t think anyone cares about the life I lead. And believe me. You shouldn’t. It is the antithesis of exciting.

I am a student at UCF – graduating this semester. Please, hold your applause. It has taken me 5.5 years. I needed to finish. Van Wilder is not a icon I have looked up to. Neither is Tara Reid, but that is an entirely different blog posting.

I am also a server at “the worlds most fun and exciting dining experience”. No, it is not a Chilis. And it seems that every day I have a bizarre story to tell, either about a crazy customer request or overhearing the absurdity of my co-workers lives.

Most importantly, I am writing this to entertain, so my friends (yes, the two of you) can take a 5 minute breather of the stresses of life and read my ridiculous nonsense that hopefully will bring a smile to your face! Enjoy.

Cleaning Out My Closet

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 01:02:29 -0400

Last Monday I moved into a new apartment, and as I am sure most of you know, moving is a huge hassle. Leaving everything down to the final hour, I rushed through my packing, throwing nearly everything but my tv into trash bags and lugged them down the 5 minute drive to my new residence. It wasn’t until later, when I started unpacking, that I saw how much stuff I really had accumulated over the past three years of living in my old apartment.

Books I have never read, movies I have never watched, and clothes I had yet to wear. I found close to ten shirts that still had their tags on. Now only if I could find the receipts to return them for drinking money….errr….bills.

Since the closet at my new apartment is smaller – much smaller – than my old walk in closet, I decided it would be a great idea to clean it out. Some people have a hard time letting go of people. I have a hard time letting go of clothes. It seemed that every piece of clothing I picked to get rid of told a great story. I know I must seem like a crazy person, but it’s true. Aren’t there clothes in your closet you can’t let go of because you wore it when something extraordinary happened? (Just nod yes and agree).

The shoes I wore for a themed Halloween party, the tie I wore at my niece’s kindergarten graduation, the blue button down shirt I wore when I had my first date here in Orlando. All, dumb enough, mean something to me. The shoes are pink and yellow, the tie is ripped, and that blue button down shirt definitely doesn’t fit anymore. They are the equivalent of pictures in a frame. Each memory on those tacky orange hangers (sale at Target) remind me of all the fun times and experiences I have had, and to get rid of them would just be like having an eternal sunshine of the spotless mind moment – minus the blue hair.

So, to deal with my situation, realizing there wasn’t a sock that could be thrown away, I decided to make an investment and buy a nice, sturdy dresser. Well, an Ikea dresser, anyway. And once I finish putting it together (its been laying in the living room for three days now, half done) I will store my memories in there like a scrap book or photo album, where if I ever need to be reminded of great moments of my past, it is just a drawer away. And for all those new memories to come, well, that’s what credit cards are for.

"Maybe I do infact read too much into love and relationships, but its better that way than being..."

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 23:42:53 -0400

“Maybe I do infact read too much into love and relationships, but its better that way than being illiterate.”