The State (Illinois) of my Union

If you're one of the few I've talked to lately, you might want to save your current optometry prescription and not read this. Even if we haven’t spoken lately, you still might want to save your prescription and not read this. To put it mildly, life has been eventful lately and I haven’t been able to keep in touch with most people. I wanted to record for myself what I've been up to, so if I can compound that endeavor by updating a few people on my story, excellent.

Here’s the thing: I don't particularly enjoy long phone conversations. Don't take it personally because it doesn't matter with whom I'm speaking. I don't like the slight delay in transmittance; I don't like that the entire non-verbal element of communication disappears. These are issues that VOIP and bluetooth simply can't settle. The next generation of videochatting portable devices might suit me better. But guess what, this is not Tokyo, nor is this Seoul. For now, if I can cover the overarching picture here, our (shorter) phone conversation can be much more interesting for us both.

So you're left with this: too many paragraphs on a moribund blog. Take it or leave it. Excuse me, you're drooling...no, the right side...got it.

And then there was New York.
In the fall of '05 it became apparent to me that DC was not my ideal city. I liked many things about that city (some great people, a plugged-in/turned-on professional environment, improving social scene), but it boiled down to this: on the ever-paramount front of personal happiness, the cons outweighed the pros and I'd seen other places that endeared themselves to me more. So a relocation was in order. It would take nearly a year, and another position within my company, before I rolled away from DC with my meager possessions and charged northward to New York City for a new adventure.

First of all, what a phenomenal city! To wake up and step into the pulse of that metropolis is an exhilarating feeling, something I'll forever be glad to have experienced as a resident. Take solely the island of Manhattan. What a spectacle to witness the energy and brainpower from around the globe that has descended upon a skinny rock at the mouth of the Hudson River. Block after block after block teems. And I'm not just talking about Wall Street (which doesn't teem after hours, incidentally!), Little Italy/Chinatown, Greenwich Village, and Midtown. I'm talking about the whole damn island. I worked way up near 170th street in an area that isn't even included on most Manhattan maps. This area was alive with swarms of people at all hours, and that's just one example of an oft-ignored part of the City that's bumpin'. The city's alive on the surface and its underbelly is crisscrossed with a hidden world of trains that never sleep. Viewing the skyline from Brooklyn never failed to make my heart beat in appreciation of the ingenuity and vitality that erected those forests of buildings.

[If you love history and have about 15 hours of free time on your hands, I can't express enough how incredible is Ric Burns' PBS documentary "New York: A Documentary Film". Starting with the arrival of the Dutch in the early 17th century, this 8-disk series traces the history of New York City throughout the last 4 centuries (from the arrival of the Dutch until post 9/11). The narrative is engaging and the paintings, photos, and videos visually capture how old and rich is the fabric of that city.]

But for a real taste of New York, hop across either the Hudson or the East River and check out the surrounding areas. To the west you've got northern New Jersey. Up above you've got the Bronx, Westchester and swanky Connecticut. Go east and you're trekking through Queens or Brooklyn, then the NYC satellite communities, then the real Long Island. If Manhattan is the engine, herein is the fuel. If Manhattan is the dish, herein is the spice.

The real ethnic neighborhoods and Bohemian enclaves are in the boroughs. When you want something authentic and unadorned with needless (and expensive) frills, head across one of New York's incredible bridges (arguably, my favorite structures in the City). Such places can be found in Manhattan, but they're not easy to spot (actually, in parts of Brooklyn and Queens--some of which I know fairly well--this same scenario is already transpiring in its nascent stages, but nowhere near the same level). Instead, in Brooklyn and Queens it's pretty common to walk out of a subway and hear most people speaking another language. I remember one adventure-walk I took during my last round of unemployment (disturbingly, not too long ago!) in Brooklyn where I wandered into the Hassidic Jewish neighborhood. I honestly thought I was in a movie as throngs of bearded men with enormous hats briskly crossed streets with hands clasped pensively behind their backs and women clad in garments reminiscent of catholic nuns rushed by escorting their bountiful offspring in strollers. In my neighborhood of Greenpoint Brooklyn you might initially scoff at any claim of diversity because many people are white. But soon, you'll realize that you can't understand a thing anyone's saying because they're all speaking Polish! Oh, and about 4 blocks down is a heavy concentration of Hispanic families and Spanish reigns. This is just one example. In essence, if cultural and ethnic diversity is a driving factor in your decision to move to New York, you are absolutely choosing the right spot. Know, however, that your interests will likely draw you away from Manhattan into the other boroughs (and northern New Jersey).

I lived in two neighborhoods in Manhattan and two neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Everywhere felt very urban. But in Manhattan your beer will cost $7 and fries don't come with that burger. [And beware of the cheapest spots, including a buffet Indian restaurant that sometimes unintentionally adds roaches for extra flavor--I'm not kidding, I saw a worker scoop a roach out of a tub of curry chicken, shrug his shoulders and say, "welcome to New York!"]. In Manhattan, you'll see Hispanic and African American women pushing strollers with pasty white kids inside. Guess what, those women probably don't live there, and if they do, they likely live up in Harlem where prices are creeping up fast and traditional communities are dissolving. Head to NYU where the unshaven, tight-jeaned hipsters relax in Washington Square. But don't ask too many questions because the conversation stops at the Trust Fund.

Everywhere, you feel this incessant rush to be the most hip, secure an apartment deal, make your train, see the new club, and on an on and on. These things can be productive or destructive. The rush leads to things moving at a lightening pace. If you have the right personality and your sh*t’s together, you're plugged in and cruising. But the rush also allows less time for digestion and contemplation, so you start to wonder if your lightening progress is moving in the right direction. You need a break from New York to thrive in New York.

Manhattan is large enough and complex enough to maintain a real sense of ethnic diversity. Beware, however, because even the last bastions of this are disappearing faster than you'd believe. The same apartment my aunt rented a decade ago in the East (Greenwich) Village is now renting at atleast twice that rate if not more. Most of the newcomers are white professionals. Manhattan is being overtaken by over-compensated white kids whose name-brand degrees bought them positions at Goldman Sachs and midtown Hedge Funds. Trust me, I see my own cynicism and don't particularly like it. Many elements of gentrification are positive (not to mention that I know some great, hard-working people with those ‘name-brand’ degrees for whom I have a lot of admiration): dangerous areas transform into safe, clean neighborhoods; more businesses are attracted which generate new jobs; schools improve; these improvements spur improvements in adjacent neighborhoods and the movement spreads. But lets be honest, an overwhelming number of one race from similar socio-economic roots is represented and an overwhelming number of professions are not represented. In my opinion, this is a travesty for the city. The groups that give New York (and any other locale) its flavor are flocking across the rivers into the other boroughs. Manhattan is for the wealthy, period. I think there's more than one way to improve a neighborhood and I can't help but think these are short-run wins instead of long-run wins.

So here's the thing about New York, in my opinion you need atleast one of the following to really be happy there today (in order of decreasing importance): lots and lots of money, a connection for housing, the ability to get away, or family and friends in close proximity.

I had basically none of these things (to a small extent, the last), which eventually made the city unappealing. Although other factors contributed, it came down to one crucial fact: New York is prohibitively expensive for the lifestyle it affords someone on my budget. It's a world-class city that attracts the best and the brightest from across the globe. Its rich history is enchanting. If you consider the boroughs and northern New Jersey, it's gotta be one of the most diverse areas on earth. But in order to live there, people of modest means must move farther and farther from the epicenter. Manhattan itself just feels like too much of an elite museum. I didn't move to Manhattan to grow rich in the financial game (although I did, unsuccessfully, interview for some finance jobs because I thought it'd be interesting to see that world from the inside). What really attracted me was the cosmopolis itself. I wanted culture and cutting-edge creation. I found some of that but it was mostly outside Manhattan. Manhattan is now almost exclusively for high-end (brow?!) culture, but I often find that profoundly less interesting, not to mention profoundly less accessible! I prefer to see the workhorses on the ground floor fighting for their passions instead of those being handed their entitlement. I scratched the surface on the Brooklyn scene and liked some of what I saw. But Brooklyn is still really expensive and it's far enough away from the big, pretty buildings to make me question what I was doing there. I felt like I could really plug into some neighborhoods but never had any hope of plugging into the city itself...and wasn't quite sure if I wanted to anyways.

My aunt lived in Manhattan for a couple decades spanning roughly the mid-70's through the mid-90's. Many of those years were spent as a social worker in the Lower East Side. She sometimes lived in penury but always lived happily. She speaks with unadulterated fondness about the ethnic food, the bazaar of different people, and the creative vibe that dominated. I can't help but think that her New York was quite different from mine. Namely, one could still reasonably expect that such an existence be Manhattan-centric. Today, that is not possible without a flush bank account or a nice connection, which already implies a disruption of the demographics. If you have those things, Manhattan is still an incredible place. But please, know that it’s different today than it was yesterday and, please, don’t rent!

So…..what?
I wasn’t alone in my analysis of New York. K’s likes/dislikes aligned with mine as our adventure together continued. Hers is a saga in and of itself that isn’t mine to share here. Suffice it to say, revelations only come if you’re willing to stick your neck out and test the water. And once they do arrive, it takes a whole new reserve of strength to face the barrage of doubts from others and transfer those schemes into reality. She’s done this in grand-fashion over the last year and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

So we repaired to the nearest pub and took stock of our scenario in the only suitable fashion: over a frosty pint.

For me, the professional consequences were foremost on my mind. New York will always be there and my roots were relatively shallow, so extricating myself was simple on most fronts. However, although I had some real issues with my position at Columbia, the educational opportunities alone made such a position (which was nearly impossible to land, and I only secured after 6 months of persistence) tough to relinquish. Also, I would be dealing with a 4-month blight on my resume and likely heading towards another bout with unemployment. But here’s a crucial bit of self-knowledge I’ve gained in the post-college years: location is absolutely critical for me. There are many jobs and great academic programs I won’t even consider if that involves living in an unappealing location for a significant length of time. My second position at the National Academies in DC was phenomenal in many ways, but I still stepped out onto streets that didn’t embrace my full potential for inspiration. New York is not unappealing in an absolute sense, but it quickly becomes so given insufficient resources.

Life in New York is a battle…but it's not that I'm afraid of a battle. Nothing comes easy…but I'm not asking for an easy road. All I'm asking for is to find a battle worth fighting. And I know this might sound harsh to some dear ears, but I couldn't justify fighting the battle in New York. The spoils of that war were insufficient for the sacrifice. I have too many priorities that couldn't be met by that city (at this time) and I wasn't willing to pay the astronomical price to indulge just a few of my passions. Perhaps I'll reside in New York at another point, but I'll either have lots and lots of money, a connection for housing, the ability to get away, or family and friends in close proximity. Either the first or the second, combined with either the third or the fourth, would be absolute requirements. For now and into the indefinite future, a couple yearly visits will suffice.

Therefore, it was a surprisingly easy decision for K and I to decide it was time to go.

But where?

Which brings me to Chicago, literally.
The answer was simple: Chicago.

Here are the characteristics for my ideal home:
A cosmopolis, first and foremost.
Four distinct seasons.
The juxtaposition of quaint neighborhoods and a thriving, vertical downtown.
A significantly sized and clean body-of-water/river.
Relatively-affordable, interesting, clean, safe, decently-sized housing.
Few rainy days; give me snow over cold rain.
Mind-blowing architecture.
An encompassing network of public transportation.
Incredible food.
History.
An eclectic, thriving, worldly, educated, unpretentious populace.
Great, distinctive, comfortable coffee shops.
Great, distinctive, comfortable pubs.
World class universities.
A promising economy.
Bike friendly and pro-physical fitness atmosphere.
A place where I feel comfortable yet constantly challenges me.
Clean, abundant park space.
Easy access to the outdoors.
Easy access to mountains.
Easy access to the ocean.
Athletic teams.
Affordable, abundant flights to my hometown.
Affordable, abundant flights to everywhere else on earth.

It’s funny because (I don’t think I’m exaggerating here) Chicago is just not on the radar screen of most people on the West Coast. We west coasters relish our society, lifestyle, and the unparalleled natural beauty outside. When most of us think about possible other cities in the US that might satisfy such high (and unique) standards of living we have fairly predictable list of possible choices (Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego…maybe some inland choices like Denver, Austin, Salt Lake City…then the few east coast selections such as Boston, Brooklyn, the Research Triangle, or possibly DC. This might sound preposterous to people from elsewhere, but I really don’t think Chicago is a city that most west coast people consider as livable, even given it’s immense population and popularity as a sports-city and history hub. I think most of us heard the words ‘midwest’ and ran screaming away from the Chicago brochures…especially eschewing the thought of ‘eclectic’ and ‘worldy’ fitting the bill.

[I was actually hesitant to even mention this, but let’s be honest, this thing doesn’t have the circulation of the Washington Post (or the Fort Washington Post)…]

Homies, if you haven’t already realized, think again! I can safely say that Chicago satisfies, to a greater or lesser degree, 22 of the 24 criteria above. And no, Wisconsin doesn’t have the Cascades, Rockies, Sierras, Chugach, or Alaskan Ranges, but it’s downright gorgeous up there and it’s pretty close. Seriously. There’s even a few mounds that people ‘ski’ down! And as for the other missing criteria, parts of Chicago’s north-side waterfront could easily be mistaken for southern cali’s beaches, minus the five-footers. Trees and parks are everywhere, cool neighborhoods abound, downtown is accessible and energetic yet not chaotic, the trains run above ground (something anyone who’s ridden the dark subways of NYC will appreciate immediately), if you enjoy cold/snowy winters the weather is phenomenal. The prices are big-city level, but not outrageously inflated ala NYC and parts of San Fran and Los Angeles. If you have important people that live east or west but don’t travel much, you can’t beat the location and accessibility/price of flights. Furthermore, you’ll see all kinds here. Quite simply, the city kicks complete ass and will likely blow you away. But, shhh, don’t tell anyone. This is our 9.4 million person secret (entire metropolitan area; 2.9 million in the city itself).

On my PDL preferences list, the only other American city that contends with Chicago is San Francisco (Philly would rank highest of the East Coast contenders). But, hey, the location and lifestyle I’d want in San Fran (not extravagance) puts me back in the NYC economics dilemma, not to mention I really like my seasons. There’s a reason Chicago just won the US bid for the 2016 Summer Olympics. It’s down to a handful of global contestants (Rio de Janeiro, Madrid, Prague, and Tokyo look like the real competition) and I’m guessing Chicago is at the top of that list.

After visiting Chi-town many times in the last couple years, I’d totally fallen for it. After realizing this, I could never think of New York as anything more than a stop along the way to either here or San Fran. For the reasons above, Chicago was the obvious first choice.

Who knows how long I’ll be here but I can tell you this: my quasi-wandering over the previous 3 years has been a deliberate effort to educate myself on other parts of the country and determine where I’d most like to settle for a few years and build something. Chicago is very likely the place where I sacrifice the least and gain the most. The international phase of my life will probably have to wait for another degree or some unexpected professional opportunity. Whether this involves consistent traveling or even living abroad for awhile, it will come, I promise. You see, my life is intended as one ever-improving adventure and I think Chicago is where I will mold that reality in the near-future. In Brooklyn, I finally gained a small taste of stability (and the opportunities for growth that stability affords) and I decided I was too impatient to wait for the next step along the way. I knew what I wanted, I knew it would benefit me immensely in the long run, so sacrifices and seeming-insanity were small prices to pay in the short run!

So, yes, I now live in Chicago.

Can you spell ‘career’ for me, please?
Let’s return to the near-term sacrifices. Namely, I now find myself again faced with the dilemma of unemployment. This has been a recurring theme of my post-college experience. I’ve moved numerous times and tried a number of jobs. Chicago is just the latest iteration of this script. You have to be willing to pay the consequences to undertake the path I’ve taken. It’s definitely not for everyone. In fact, I’m not sure I’d recommend it to many people. That’s not a statement of superiority/inferiority. It’s simply a concession that I needed to learn lessons in this manner and others may not need to do so. Because of my mobile lifestyle, I’ve surely sacrificed the consideration of many cool employers who don’t like my unintelligible resume. I also haven’t focused on further schooling which bumps that back a few years. Amen.

For years I’ve been struggling with finding direction. My profession has taken a backseat to geographical exploration, friendships and relationships, and generally establishing a personal philosophy. Without that foundation, I’d be building something structurally unsound (feel free to vomit at this point). My ultimate vision was never compromised, but this (professionally speaking) side stuff had to come first.

So now I’m here with some time on my hands, and I’m wondering what the hell am I doing with myself?! I tore through Po Bronson’s book that’s been sitting on my shelf since Portland, I took online character/skills/aptitude tests, I consulted family, I bought a career-counseling book. All of this has been helpful to expand my vision, but it’s also a bit overwhelming and convinces me that there’s no easy answer. My interests are varied and complex and there’s lots of other people like me with voracious appetites. Maybe I’ll see a Career Counselor but a few hundred bucks seems like a lot to an unemployed dude (exercise, find the logical flaws in Phil’s argument).

The underlying staples of my universe are rationality, objective analysis, creativity, good-conscience-productivity and humor. But these characteristics can fit into so many professional outlets. It’s both a confusing and exciting experience to simultaneously—and quite seriously—consider each of the following paths/careers within a five-day span: physics PhD, biophysics PhD, financial analyst, space lawyer, intellectual property lawyer, MBA, international relations, engineering PhD, Biomedical Engineering PhD, Computer Science PhD, journalist, novelist, actuary, restaurateur, teacher, psychiatrist/psychologist, architect, graphic designer.

Has anyone else gone through this career exploration phase? Probably most, to some degree. By no means have I reached any life-altering decisions, but it has been a productive period of introspection.

Phil, wake up to the rest of the globe!
Unexpectedly, what’s helped me most recently is picking up another book I’ve been meaning to read; this one having nothing to do with career exploration.

Quite simply, please listen to this: if you have not read Thomas Friedman’s book, “The World is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty First Century” (2005), pick this book up soon.

For anyone who even takes a few minutes to glance at the news headlines each day, the content is nothing unexpected: India, China, and Eastern Europe are rising and the global playing field is being leveled. The genetic lottery of being born middle-class (or better) in the US will soon not prove as meaningful. We all know this, kind of.

What this book does, however, is detail the incredible extent to which this has already happened (not to mention that this book considers the world as it was way back in late 2004 and things have been changing at light-speed since), the reasons it has happened, and the long-term consequences for Americans. It’s just a nice summary of lots of important stuff and I think any American entering the workforce or considering more schooling should read it.

This book is phenomenal because it does two things. First of all, it will alarm you and scare you. Secondly, it will inspire you. Friedman isn’t issuing a call to nationalism. Instead, he’s telling America that we need to work our asses off to remain global leaders (even global players) in most industries. He focuses a lot on science and engineering because they traditionally have driven markets and will do so to an even greater extent in the future. But really, it’s the same for any professional endeavor (accounting, law, marketing, healthcare, etc.). He thinks, and I agree, that everyone benefits from a flattening world, including Americans, but we’re just going to have to work harder to really benefit. There’s going to be some uncomfortable times during the transition for people of all ranks and we’ll need to iron out political policies that allow for the much-needed transition but also cushion those being adversely affected and get them back in the new ballgame.

For individuals, it’s going to get more competitive because there’s more people being educated around the world and most of them have greater appetites than you and I. Most of them will accept less for their work. What that means is that we need to actually take advantage of our world-leading education system and continue to improve ourselves. This doesn’t mean you have to go get an engineering PhD (although we do need those). It means that instead of killing your mind with laziness, go learn something that challenges you and gives you the tools to create something novel or contribute something impressive. It might not even be a traditional degree, but instead a combination of skills that are unique (aka, a cartoonist who understands basic computer programming and speaks Polish). That sort of thing.

So where this leaves me now is convinced of a couple things. First of all, the world is becoming progressively more tech-driven and I don’t want to drown in this. I want to participate. It has re-inspired my natural attraction towards science and instilled the pursuit with more meaning. I haven’t been able to focus on any field for graduate studies because anything outside of science leaves a huge part of me unfulfilled, yet anything in science takes a significant amount of dedication and will shield me from other things I’m interested in for awhile. But now, I’m finally at a point where I can look longer-term and understand that in order to participate in this world in a meaningful way, you must receive more specialized training. Once you have that, then you can spread your creative wings and attempt to combine all your interests.

Secondly, I don’t have to have the grand-scheme picture entirely figured out right now. My uber-career might be in an area not even envisioned right now because things are moving so fast! Instead, I just need to learn something and apply myself. I know a PhD physicist who’s working in financial analysis in Manhattan right now. He has no regrets about lost time and he loves what he’s doing. He also loves what he studied. The key was that he took it to another level. For him, that meant getting a PhD. What he’ll have in common with someone else doing something completely different is just that they both applied their minds and their energy. Maybe they both read Friedman’s book, or maybe they were his case-studies for success!

So I had a second interview at U of C today working in research that coordinates a medical unit with engineers, chemists, and physicists. That sort of cross-disciplinary work is the wave of the future and I love it both philosophically and for the way it promises to benefit humankind. It’s a microcosm off the integration happening globally. Again, that’s something I don’t want to fear, but something I want to partake in. So whereas awhile ago I might have dwelt on being stuck in a lab and missing other opportunities, now it seems an amazing opportunity for me to improve my knowledge of many branches of science, enhance my tech skills, apply myself creatively, and work towards some yet-undefined ultimate expression of myself. Plus, there’s always time after work for the other interests.

So the U of C thing would be phenomenal and hopefully it'll happen. But the workforce is cutthroat right now, so maybe I’ll be working for a staffing agency next week answering the phone for some VP as I make my appointment with the career counselor to formulate Plan B. Hopefully not, but we’ll see.

And finally, there’s this bloggy thing.
Some periods are for me and only for me. I'm actually quite careful with what I'll spill on a blog. With some topics, I have no problem communicating through this medium with candor and openness. The nauseating length of this post offers proof. Sometimes, however, instead of interpreting the world on these pages I need to have the liberty to extricate myself and process more privately.

2006 was not for this medium. Many reasons contributed, which I won’t discuss here. I don’t foresee disappearing like that again anytime soon. Sorry to all my loyal fan (singular). I’m still deciding where I want to take this thing. Maybe less topical and more creative stuff at times. Probably not daily posts, but atleast weekly. We’ll see.

Please, stay tuned.

795 miles

Morning exercise

Out the door, down the steps, outside and begin. Okay, walk briskly and start to angle. Over the left shoulder check for traffic and quickly peer back to the right. Go. Hop up the curb, position your strides over the vents and listen for whooshing trains, feel for gusts of air. Nothing, sweet! Whip around the corner and down the steps. Keep listening. Around 12th step grab wallet from back pocket. Avoid that puddle, it’s slippery and nasty. Keep walking while simultaneously removing farecard. Okay, you hear something so don’t screw up when swiping card. Firmly and swiftly slide the card with the flat bottom resting snugly along the brushed steel plates. Nice! You’re through and sure enough, there’s a white spotlight 30 yards down the track coming to a halt. Sprint! Don’t slip, avoid the people walking towards you, don’t step too close to the edge but do run a bit closer to the edge because the conductor needs to see you. Fifteen yards, ten yards, the announcer didn’t see you and he’s ringing the bell. Lunge, grab the door, let it clamp down on your arm, let it momentarily re-open, and go! Alright you’re in.

Breathe.

Now the truth is you’re not positioned well. You really need to be two cars towards the middle because that’s the closest spot to the best stairwell. Walk down the moving train, keep your right arm in touch with the ceiling railing. Whoops! Damn good thing for that right arm. Apologize to the lady you bumped, congratulate yourself for not embarrassing yourself worse, half-jokingly curse the universe for trains unexpectedly slowing, and keep moving. Avoid pondering over what was on the 147 hands that held that railing in that exact spot in the last two days. Keep moving. Alright, next station now, doors opening. Sneak out past those entering, angle left and take a few sprinting strides down the train. Back in on the next car. nice. Moving. Take a look at a pair of boots with an exposed steel toe, a pair of blocky grandma shoes, a two-inch black high-heel, and a pair of sneakers with thick shoelaces all arranged horizontally. Ignore the guy preaching damnation, he was here yesterday too. Quick, breathe.

Okay, here’s the station. The train could approach from either side and you really need to be right in front of the door. You choose the left and wait. Feel how the train’s angling slightly? Good. Switch sides to the other door. Damn good thing you moved then because now there’s 15 people crowded behind you. Train stops. Waiting, waiting, and the doors open! Go! The next car over’s closer to the stairwell so you have to hurry. 11 people in front of you on the stairs. It’s a blockade. Frustration. Alright top of stairs, things open up a bit. You’ve got some work to do. The other staircases moved faster and now you’ve got about 40 people to contend with as you move along the long corridor. The path broadens a bit and you swing wide. You make three passes before the older gentleman blocks your progress. But you see this coming, gauge his velocity and that of the other gentleman to your left and slightly behind and determine if you move now, you can take the gap. You do. They guy behind’s slightly pissed but you speed up and you’re out of his way in a flash. Well executed. You’re looking at about twenty people now but they’re the elite, the jaguars, the top guns. This group you float with. Make another pass or two but mostly enjoy the fluidity and speed of this group.

Okay, but listen, or maybe feel. There’s a train approaching downstairs. Could be yours. Go! Whip around the corner, skip down the stairs, dash ahead. Crap, it’s the V. now for the agonizing few minutes of no progress. You slowly approach the spot on the platform that’ll be just right and lean against the post. Pull out the magazine and read. It’s reading time. The next train will be too packed so take as many words as you can right now. A couple lines…is that it? No. a couple lines, interesting, really, okay. There it is. Train. Let off those who are going to leave your couple square feet, claim your spot as first entrant, and go! Off with the backpack, nudge, bump, shuffle, excuse me, shuffle, no railing. Alright, you’re stuck against the door. Angle your back a bit because you have to consider the possibility of that thing flying open. Put your pressure appropriately on the two inches of the exposed door’s arch. He stepped on your foot. No worries man. Maybe read? No, no room and you gotta watch that door. Five stops. Take it in around you. All the sights sounds smells around you. It’s early but you gotta take this in right now.

Okay last transfer. Roll now! Because you hear it approaching on the other track. Sprint past the shuffling group of 7, up the stairs, dash in and out of the 42nd street masses. Gauge that angle, that speed, that newcomer who’s working the diagonal. There’s motion and change everywhere but you need to digest, calculate, and act on this instantaneously if you want to take that train. A red laser line traces your zig zag for unconcerned deceased relatives to never look at, but who knows right? Somebody’s gotta appreciate this….down the steps! Crap go! It’s closing, it’s closed.

Utter despair…but you know better, sometimes it happens, sometimes…look up the train and see there’s a mash of people there….ding dong…oh my god, you get your chance as the doors open for less than a second and you lunge in. the stationary riders with their briefcases chuckle silently at the glistening sweat on your forehead in understanding. No seats, but you know about 22% of the train will clear at the next stop and you’ll have three seconds to grab a seat. It’s a long ride, you have a magazine, and damnit, you’ve earned this.

Now read, read, read.

Life in pictures: DC to NYC (9/06-2/07)

Here's my world in 41 (42) pics that explores the odyssey from DC to NYC.

Late, not never

Life's been a maelstrom lately and i'm rowing a splintered canoe. So in tardy fashion, as promised earlier, here's some files with a whole bunch of tiny little colored dots arranged in intelligible order to reproduce images I saw. I decided to leave my camera at home when i walked over half the length of the island, which meant I missed some great shots. Most notably, there was a troupe of Capoeira fighters/dancers that put on the most spectacular show. I was introduced to this Brazilian art in DC awhile back and remain fascinated at how demanding Capoeira is in terms of agility, strength, and elegance. So just pretend that I included this.

B,b,b,b,b,b,baby got back

Alas, my spitefully dedicated readers, but the fatuous words must go on. I apologize for the echoing silence here the last couple days, I was in New York and couldn’t manage to obtain internet access in one of the most wired cities on earth. Go me!

There’s a lot I’d like to say, but life’s insane right now…plus, brevity’s the soul of wit (hence, I will now commence my exegesis). The days were mostly work with little play. I did check out the progression at the Trade Center complex and walk from Wall street up to the bottom of Central Park, over to the Hudson, and back to Times Square. We’re not talking about trivial distances here. If you’re in the Chelsea neighborhood, the Greek Kitchen is a great little restaurant.

I’m also here to proudly claim that in a city teeming with world-class museums, I managed to visit their paragon of high culture: The Museum of Sex (Mosex). If you’re thinking Strip Clubs and porn flicks, I wouldn’t bother wasting the 15 bucks for admission. You might as well stay home and hunt around on the internet. If, however, you’re interested in exploring the historical context of modern sexuality, pornography, and sex education I’d highly recommend dropping by. The curators obviously paid close attention to how their exhibits might be interpreted, because although they dealt with material easily susceptible to crassness and shallowness, they managed to maintain a sophisticated and sensitive treatment.

That does not, however, imply that they hide anything. Noooooooooooooo, trust me. You’ll see your fair share of bawdy movies, candid interviews, and exotic contraptions. I found it refreshing to openly learn about a universal, yet often cloaked, human drive. Go check it out.

On a side note, the gallery entitled “Men Without Suits: Objectifying the American Male Nude Body” made me think about gyms. I think the modern gym would be one of the most fascinating developments of our modern world for a time traveler from the past to see. The whole idea is kind of space age in its own way…people running in place in stale, white rooms while lined up right next to each other with their headphones on. Although never receiving a second thought, those modern gyms didn’t really become normal until the 20th century.

Alright I’m done rambling. Flickr’s “is having a massage” right now, so I’ll post a few pics later.

These are the days of our lives

Disclaimer: Guess what, kids? Today Uncle Phil is going to transform into one of those really annoying bloggers that recounts what he did over the course of the previous weekend. So if you hate those guys, or you hate me, or you hate America, I wouldn’t recommend reading this entry. That being said, you shouldn’t hate America, so read on or Kansas won’t be happy.

It’s not easy hanging out with a bunch of rock stars in New York for a weekend, but that’s the punishment I had to endure the last couple days. What follows is an incomplete account of the weekend’s events.

The first such manifestation of downright absurdity came during our bus pit-stop in Delaware (a state whose size was roughly equal to the chip on our bus driver’s shoulder). Aside from the unique opportunity to punish my digestive tract with copious helpings of Roy Rogers’ burgers, those rest stops totally screw with me. It’s like you step into this warped reality where time loses its meaning, and people lose their minds. People wander around shielding their eyes from the assault of neon, stammering into each other, throwing their hard earned money at anything they can shovel down their throats. It’s like riding around on a carrousel that never returns to the same spot. Sinking deeper into oblivion, one of the more resilient members of our battalion managed to alert us to the imminent departure of our bus. Still dazed by the Wonka world, we stumbled outside and ran. The problem was that we ran in the wrong direction. The other problem was that none of use really knew that. So there we were, victims of the Pit-stop-mob-mentality plague, searching frantically for a bus that no longer existed. Meanwhile John, the aforementioned trooper who had developed an impressive immunity to the pernicious pit stop virus, screamed at each of our malfunctioning phones and the bus driver. The impervious bus driver stormed around the circular drive, intent on roaring onward to the Big Apple minus three poor souls. As he rounded the final curve, flames blazing from the back of the angry bus, we performed athletic feats beyond our wildest dreams in an attempt to flag down our only hope of ever leaving Delaware (much love, Lis), meanwhile inventing atleast five epic dance moves! Emotions ran high as anguish turned to hope, hope back to despair, and despair into the elation of resurrection. We made our bus.

That was before New York. Then New York happened. Oh, did it happen.

What’s the first thing that any sane person does as soon as they get to New York?…that’s right, they leave New York and jam over to Jersey City. Being the hipsters that we are, that’s exactly what we did. Not that it’s possible for Jersey City to ever be a let down, but if it was possible, it still wouldn’t have happened. Our buddy Josh, who graciously accommodated a swarm of rabblerousers (quick vote, is that a word?), lives in an apartment right on the edge of the Hudson River overlooking Manhattan. Positioned across from the village, in between the reigning giants of downtown and midtown, we had a commanding view of the best skyline in the world (in my admittedly meager experience). Plus we got to revert back to colle…high sch….juni….um….grade school, and play with suspiciously fun-looking shopping carts. First the shopping carts were empty. Then the shopping carts held gallons of Pabst. Then the shopping carts were empty again. Then the shopping carts held people who held gallons of Pabst in their stomachs. Then they were empty again. Later they held more people with more gallons of more things in their stomachs. Then they were empty again because those people careened head first out of the carts towards certain death. What does it all mean?

At some point we realized that New York City was really close and we should probably go check it out. So we did, apparently. The story goes that we paid due homage to the sacred artists of eighties rock at this ho-down house (according to this review, we only reverted back to college for our entertainment at this point….and it should be noted that the dancing did not suck!) where they beam the decadent eighties video with the correspondingly decadent eighties song all over the walls. So we’re all pretty sure that happened, and we did wake up in Jersey City the next day (some members running on slightly less than the recommended 8 hours).

…and on the second day, God did not rest…

Have you ever had a waiter/waitress do everything possible to talk you out of a dish? This happened to us at this stylin' noodle house we made our way to for breakfast/lunch/happy hour in the city. It just so happened to be the dish I was ready devour. I didn’t mind that she told us it was the most returned dish on the menu. I didn’t mind that she said, “I’m one of only four or five people that like it.” I didn’t mind that she spoke with such graven seriousness, as though there would be legal ramifications if she failed to enlighten us to the pending devastation that this dish might wreak upon our prostrate constitutions. All was well and good until she dropped the S-bomb on us. She actually had the gall to tell us this dish was ‘slimy’. Slimy! Of all the heinous-anus words anyone could ever use to describe an edible dish, I think she mined deepest and found the worst of the worst. It conjured up images of a toad’s slippery skin resting in an algae infested swamp. I had no intention of paying nine dollars to see that transported onto my plate. I politely passed, ordered another dish, and vomited out the window (the vomiting was a bit of a fabrication, although vomiting was never far from anybody’s mind over the course of this meal…for slightly different reasons). Luckily my second choice turned out to be amazing and cheap. Besides the excellent grub for a more-than-reasonable Manhattan price, I’d recommend this place for the funky pictures of noodle art on the wall. I never would have imagined that noodles could decorate a human body in such ways.

Everyone, in varying states of party or ‘slime’ induced nausea, made their way outside and relished a breath of fresh air. Maybe it was that way because Union Square, a nice little mecca of trees and grass lay across the street. Wait, maybe not. Although it is still a mecca of trees and grass, there’s other things to be found. Namely, an outdoor bar in the middle of a public park in the middle of Manhattan. Somebody explain this to me. Everyone felt compelled to research this anomaly and somehow ended up with coronas (one of which was roughly equivalent in cost to my lunch) or bloody mary’s in their hands. Ah, the beauty of nature.

The Fellowship of the Weekend, which was in peril of dissolving, rematerialized at this point stronger than ever. Back to Jersey City, back to bed for some, then the onslaught continued.

Brevity is the soul of wit. I’m a half wit. But I’m trying. So let me summarize the rest as follows… Feeling like we had short changed the Joshua Tree the night before, we mustered up all our energies and laid siege on that bastion of all that is cool once again. We did it right. Oh, did we do it right. And it really happened that night, according to all sources. Realizing that it was only 5 in the morning when we got back to Jersey City, the dance of the deranged continued on couches and in front of windows back in Jersey City. A final stroll along the water’s edge sometime deep in the six o’clock hour, where a small cadre of lunatics toasted mother NYC and all her demons, brought to a close a day to remember. A saffron orange sun, cloaked in the fumes of simmering city haze, rose above the pillars of man’s ingenuity and kissed us goodnight with her first rays of warmth.

Not so early the next day, the morose realization that our time in New Jersey was coming to a premature end began to loom large; therefore, we celebrated that fine state by dining in the finest eating establishment available: the local mall. The end was too painful, and I cannot recount it here. Perhaps with time I will muster up the courage to speak of our parting with New Jersey and all that it encapsulates.

For now, I offer my praise to those who sucked the marrow out of a weekend’s bones and lived to tell the tale.

These aren't poses folks, this is the real thing.

Soul sisters in swing