A look back at my 24th year as Jayme:
1/1/06, 12:00 a.m. - I toast my Sammy Winter Lager to Dick Clark, hit
the lights and head to bed. I have to work in 7 hours. If I cut a 2006
album, this image would make a fitting cover.
1/12 - WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN LAS CRUCES HOME, SUSPECT/HUSBAND ON THE
LOOSE (CAUGHT JUNE 12TH IN MEXICO)
1/14-18 - My first trip to Mass. since my job started 7 months before.
My Boston endocronologist teaches me everything I need to know about
my disease. My 2-month hiatus from alcohol ends.
1/19-22 - My first trip back to 'Cuse. It was amazing to see everyone.
But most importantly, it put my soul to rest learning that 4 years
was, indeed, enough. Also, my best friend's father died. I'm glad I
could be there, for what it's worth.
mid/Feb - I start dating again. It's been more than a year. It's
priceless, knowing the person you're thinking about is thinking about
you. This will only last til May, but it's just enough to get me by.
Thank you. Very much.
3/27 - LAS CRUCES MOTHER/DAUGHTER STABBED IN HOME, OTHER DAUGHTER,
STAR HIGH SCHOOL B-BALL PLAYER ARRESTED
Mar/Apr - NATIONAL PROTESTS OVER IMMIGRATION PROPOSAL SPREADS TO LAS
CRUCES HIGH SCHOOLS, CITY HALL
4/25 - PUBLIC MONEY FOR "CAMPAIGN" PENCILS PUTS DONA ANA COUNTY
TREASURER IN HOT WATER
4/30 - Find out my apartment manager is not renewing my lease. This
stems from a story I did involving one of his other properties in Dec.
05. Journalism students: read those 2 sentences again. You've been
warned. If I'm going to move, I'm not renting again. The market here
is too green. House-hunting starts.
5/29 - My anchor debut on Memorial Day. It was fun, especially working
with Amber. If you know her and don't absolutely adore her, you're
incorrect. Sorry.
6/2 - DR. SONIA DIAZ NAMED LAS CRUCES SCHOOL SUPERINTENDENT
mid/June - My father and I have a phone talk about death. It's the
first time I cry with him in the 2 years he's been diagnosed.
6/26 - 150-YEAR FLOOD SLAMS ALAMOGORDO
6/30/06 - I close on my condo. Move out of my apartment. I have 2
mortgages. I've been up since 2 a.m. cleaning out the shitbox and
getting the last of the boxes in. I'm woken up at 8:30 a.m. by the
bed-delivery guys knocking on the door. I fell asleep in front of the
door. I spend the rest of the day building all my furniture. Looking
back, this was my greatest and proudest day this year.
7/3 - WARPED TOUR '06 IN LAS CRUCES. I crowdsurfed for the camera.
Shameless? Debatable. But some things you only get to do once in life.
If they don't hurt anyone... do them.
7/6-15 - Mommy comes!!! And helps me decorate.
June-August - Weekends at Elephant Butte Lake w/ Andrew, Eileen and
the gang. Frisbee, driving the speedboat and sleeping under the stars.
These trips replaced the weekends I spent "dating" and are equally
appreciated.
8/1 - STORM 2006 SLAMS EL PASO, SOUTH DONA ANA COUNTY
Aug - Mom and Dad have a plan!! This doctor up in Maine performs
stem-cell transplants that give patients a new immune system and
hopefully a new lease on life. Of course, insurance doesn't cover it.
We could fundraise, perhaps... but that's a lot of money to raise so
quickly...
8/15 - HATCH FLOODED
8/20 - nearly bitten by a rattlesnake. moving on...
8/24 - PLUTO DEMOTED TO "DWARF PLANET." ANNOUNCEMENT MOURNED BY LAS
CRUCES, HOMETOWN OF PLUTO'S DISCOVERER CLYDE W. TOMBAUGH
8/28 - LAS CRUCES TO BUILD DOWNTOWN AQUATIC/SPORTS COMPLEX
9/1-8 - First trip east since January. My cousins get married in NJ. I
haven't seen Dad's side in two years. Phenomenal reunion! Back in MA,
I spend a whole day bummin' around Boston and a whole evening hoisting
with a dozen high school and college friends. Looking back, this was
the night I felt the richest all year. And Jim, why'd you have to be
such a dick to that waitress? Equally incredible, Oreo-Nintendo Night
in Waltham with Emmy. Priceless.
9/13 - HAIL STORM HITS CRUCES, POSSIBLE TORNADO TOUCHDOWN WEST OF THE
CITY (riding into that is the only time I've ever felt legitimately
scared on the job... happy f***in birthday)
9/18-22 - EXTORTIONIST THREATENS TO SHOOT RANDOM LAS CRUCENS IF CITY
DOESN'T PAY AN UNTOLD RANSOM
9/25/06 - "Dear Friends," We go public with Dad's disease. The
Fundraiser begins.
Shortly after 9/25: met kasf. again. for the first time.
9/25 - FIRST ROCKET LAUNCH FROM SPACEPORT AMERICA, UPHAM NM.
10/1 - Jason adopts me as his little brother via myspace. Until now, I
don't think he had any clue how much that means to me. p.s. I now have
two non-blood big brothers with the last name Gib(b)s. Go figure.
10/5-9 - 'Cuse Homecoming '06! I was introduced to the greatest
drinking game of all-time (except for "drink the beer," beautiful in
its simplicity)... TAP OUT. Naturally, I won my first game. My victory
was promptly challenged after I tested positive for 2 sugar packs and
a candy bar. Don't worry, Mom. I was FINE. By the way, my facebook
picture was taken that night... that's my friends "reachin out,
touching me, touching Jews" during Sweet Caroline. It was also great
to dance in Darwins, bitch at the football game, and win beer pong
with BH on our first throw. You read that right. I also popped in my
fraternity's Chapter meeting. I didn't think I'd go back in that room
(and no, I passed It). But it's awesome to know there's a place that
will welcome me the rest of my life even though I may not have ever
met a single person inside. May you all experience what that room has
done for me.
10/14-15 - Andrew, Eileen and I roadtrip to Los Angeles. Stayed
downtown, toured Hollywood. I walked in the Pacific, achieving my
Manifest Destiny. Save for family, Andrew, you are my 2006 MVP.
10/17 - I INTERVIEW BUZZ ALDRIN, KEYNOTE SPEAKER AT X-PRIZE SYMPOSIUM
10/20 - DMB & the Rolling Stones at UTEP's Sun Bowl Stadium with Ezra.
2nd best concert I've ever been to (1st, Guster & Folds, Boston
Pavilion w/ Mrs. Mertz.)
11/1 - INELIGIBLE PLAYER KNOCKS LAS CRUCES HIGH OUT OF STATE PLAYOFFS
11/20 - DR. SONIA DIAZ FIRED FROM LCPS SUPERINTENDENT POST
Nov - Dad's Cause has raised $185,000. We'd aimed for $140K.
Contributions poured in from family, friends, loose acquiantances and
people we will probably never meet. We're donating excess funds to the
next family who needs to raise money for a transplant thru the NFT. So
ALL our donors have helped someone you'll never know. And they will
never know you helped. In Judaism, we refer to that as the highest,
most honorable rung on the ladder of Tzedakah (Charity).
12/5/06 - A handshake.
12/22 - KATIE SEPICH'S KILLER CAUGHT, SHERIFF SAYS (for my Masshole
friends, this cold case was the Molly Bish of Southern New Mexico)
12/28 - DAD STARTS HIS TRANSPLANT!!! (scheduled through February)
12/31 - Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.
* * * * *
'06 TOP THREES
Hang outs: BBK, The 915, My Brothers Place (all places I can play pool)
Songs: Move Along, Alone, Hips Dont Lie
Drinks: Jack & Diet Coke, Dos Equis, Pepsi Jazz (if you haven't tried Jazz, you're un-American)
Movies: Pirates 2, Borat, All the Kings Men (I haven't seen The Departed yet)
TV Shows: Saved, Heroes, Studio 60
Sports Memories: Vince Young's Rose Bowl, Colts Miss FG v. Pitt, World
Cup Headbutt
Stupidest Moments (me): Driving into a hailstorm, that 2nd game of
TapOut, mucking a busted straight before realizing I rivered the
flush... tell me SOMEONE else has done that?
Stupidest Moments (everyone else): Shooting a friend in the face,
telling the world how you would have killed your wife, accidentally
calling U.S. soldiers retarded. (Wow, I feel better about mucking that
flush already).
Message from 2006: (from my 9/30 blog)
D on't burn bridges.
(You never know when you're going to need someone... and you certainly
never know when you're going to need EVERYONE.)
Love you all,
Jayme
-30-
Friday, December 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Jayme, Party of One
I am amused by man's inability to look inward. (I'm including both sexes, trust me)
It seems too often that when relations break down with a member of the opposite sex, we blame the gender as a whole and not ask ourselves if there's anything we could have done better. We just decide to be upset with everyone else. We make hyperbolic declarations like: "Men are deaf, horny pigs. Fuck 'em," "All women are possessive, clingy and generally insane. Fuck 'em." And my personal favorite: "Last night when I arrived home from work, I had lofty hope that perhaps there are good men that exist. Ones that you can trust and truly care about you as a person. As of this morning, I am convinced this is not the case."
That last one was written about me by one who will respectfully remain nameless.
I hold no grudge. I still think she's a very sweet girl. I won't even defend myself. And therein lies the point.
We need to defend ourselves less. We're so quick to convict the other of being "evil" when all (s)he is guilty of is wanting something different than you. Granted, people sometimes lie. You can be genuinely deceived by "dicks/bitches" into thinking you're getting something they're not giving. But I believe more often, it's nothing more than miscommunication: two people expecting two different things, seeing two different relationships. Sure, you feel deceived. But so, likely, does the other. So how do you avoid similar miscommunications in the future?
a) Impose sanctions on the opposite sex and warn all your friends it is purely evil.
b) Join forces with friends who have imposed such sanctions so you still feel wanted by others.
c) Be more forthcoming with future "interests" so you can weed out those who would compromise your "dating" principles and spend more time with more compatable partners.
* * * * *
Some of you may be thinking I should follow my own advice. But I'm not angry. This advice is for people who storm out of mutually-failed relationships but left their share of the fault by the door. I shrug my shoulders, tally the good times and move on. Does that make me heartless? I guess that's debatable. Does it make me happy? Definitely.
Granted, keep your standards up. Ask yourself what others should do for you. But it doesn't hurt to ask what you can do for others. And the number one thing that can save you future heartbreak is a little more upfront communication.
* * * * *
Comments welcome, as always.
It seems too often that when relations break down with a member of the opposite sex, we blame the gender as a whole and not ask ourselves if there's anything we could have done better. We just decide to be upset with everyone else. We make hyperbolic declarations like: "Men are deaf, horny pigs. Fuck 'em," "All women are possessive, clingy and generally insane. Fuck 'em." And my personal favorite: "Last night when I arrived home from work, I had lofty hope that perhaps there are good men that exist. Ones that you can trust and truly care about you as a person. As of this morning, I am convinced this is not the case."
That last one was written about me by one who will respectfully remain nameless.
I hold no grudge. I still think she's a very sweet girl. I won't even defend myself. And therein lies the point.
We need to defend ourselves less. We're so quick to convict the other of being "evil" when all (s)he is guilty of is wanting something different than you. Granted, people sometimes lie. You can be genuinely deceived by "dicks/bitches" into thinking you're getting something they're not giving. But I believe more often, it's nothing more than miscommunication: two people expecting two different things, seeing two different relationships. Sure, you feel deceived. But so, likely, does the other. So how do you avoid similar miscommunications in the future?
a) Impose sanctions on the opposite sex and warn all your friends it is purely evil.
b) Join forces with friends who have imposed such sanctions so you still feel wanted by others.
c) Be more forthcoming with future "interests" so you can weed out those who would compromise your "dating" principles and spend more time with more compatable partners.
* * * * *
Some of you may be thinking I should follow my own advice. But I'm not angry. This advice is for people who storm out of mutually-failed relationships but left their share of the fault by the door. I shrug my shoulders, tally the good times and move on. Does that make me heartless? I guess that's debatable. Does it make me happy? Definitely.
Granted, keep your standards up. Ask yourself what others should do for you. But it doesn't hurt to ask what you can do for others. And the number one thing that can save you future heartbreak is a little more upfront communication.
* * * * *
Comments welcome, as always.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
All I Ever Really Needed to Know I Learned From Golf.
(F the copyright... you can't keep a good blogger down)
Leave the driver in the trunk. It's worth giving up 30 yards to hit the fairway.
Leave it left. Leave it right. Never, ever leave it short.
Your friends will never know you kicked it out from under that bush. But you will.
You'll never get out of the sand with a half-swing.
When all your friends say "go for it," it's probably the perfect time not to.
Never toss your clubs. The next hole could be the one you've always waited for.
We hit the 30-foot putts because we think about getting them close.
We miss the 3-foot putts because we think about getting them in.
The happiest golfers are the ones content with golfing alone.
Keep your eyes on the ball.
No, the ball. Keep... no. The fucking Ball. Eyes. Ball. ... good.
Don't bitch about your slice. Tighten your grip. Move your feet. Slow your backswing. Don't bitch.
No one's going to count your strokes for you.
If assholes are breathing down your neck, just let them play through.
If you leave your cart to find your ball... take more than one type of club.
If you lose your ball, look for 2 minutes. Then drop. Hit. Move on.
You're going to lose balls. Buy them out of the $1 jar on the counter.
Like it or not, your club hit the ball exactly where and how you told it to.
If you hit an ace, you buy the drinks.
Don't talk while someone's hitting. You'll have to hit eventually.
When all your friends tell you to "just lay up," it's probably the perfect time not to.
If there's a practice green, use it. Make your mistakes there.
Everyone's handicap is different. Play your game. Beat your best. Not his.
At the end of the round, everyone wins because everyone played.
Leave the driver in the trunk. It's worth giving up 30 yards to hit the fairway.
Leave it left. Leave it right. Never, ever leave it short.
Your friends will never know you kicked it out from under that bush. But you will.
You'll never get out of the sand with a half-swing.
When all your friends say "go for it," it's probably the perfect time not to.
Never toss your clubs. The next hole could be the one you've always waited for.
We hit the 30-foot putts because we think about getting them close.
We miss the 3-foot putts because we think about getting them in.
The happiest golfers are the ones content with golfing alone.
Keep your eyes on the ball.
No, the ball. Keep... no. The fucking Ball. Eyes. Ball. ... good.
Don't bitch about your slice. Tighten your grip. Move your feet. Slow your backswing. Don't bitch.
No one's going to count your strokes for you.
If assholes are breathing down your neck, just let them play through.
If you leave your cart to find your ball... take more than one type of club.
If you lose your ball, look for 2 minutes. Then drop. Hit. Move on.
You're going to lose balls. Buy them out of the $1 jar on the counter.
Like it or not, your club hit the ball exactly where and how you told it to.
If you hit an ace, you buy the drinks.
Don't talk while someone's hitting. You'll have to hit eventually.
When all your friends tell you to "just lay up," it's probably the perfect time not to.
If there's a practice green, use it. Make your mistakes there.
Everyone's handicap is different. Play your game. Beat your best. Not his.
At the end of the round, everyone wins because everyone played.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Genuine. Premium.
Neil Young sings: "It's better to burn out than to fade away."
It's one thing to hear it, another to see it with your own eyes. I did this weekend, watching Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and the rest of the Rolling Stones tear up the Sun Bowl for an hour and a half Friday night. I've been to good concerts, some of them great. Friday night was inspiring. Seeing a band so legendary that Dave Matthews would bow down to them... which he did when he came back out to help Mick sing "Lean on Me." I guess I should mention that Dave opened for the Stones with an hour-twenty-minute set of his own. He opened with "Don't Drink the Water," played my favorite DMB song "Grey Street," and (praise Apollo) closed with Ants. I loved just watching him and Mick dance for 3 hours. The only Stones song I really wanted to hear live was Start Me Up (which, surprisingly, they played like 7th). After every song, Ezra & I looked at each other and sung "DAAA D'UH DAT" until they finally freggin' played it.
One night. Two bands crossed off my list of bands I need to see before I assume my next form (or the bands do). Bands I've now seen include (no order): DMB, The Stones, Boston, Doobie Brothers, Allman Brothers, Waltham, Ben Folds, Guster, Ben Folds WITH Guster (still my favorite show), 3eb (still my favorite band), Bosstones, All-American Rejects, Yellowcard, The Offspring, Gym Class Heroes, Flogging Molly, Fountains of Wayne (most random concert I've ever seen... playing impromptu in front of the Hancock... remember Meglino?), Four Tops - Temptations - OJs - Whispers (same show), The Indigo Girls, Maynard Ferguson w/ Big Bop Nouveau... and maybe some I forgot.
Groups/Artists I still need to see: BNL, Green Day, Maroon 5, Rockapella, Billy Joel, the Eagles, Goo Goo Dolls, U2. I guess Dispatch is out of the question... or is it?
Saturday began with 18 sweet holes at the prestigious NMSU Golf Course. I got my birdie (an uphill 25-foot putt on ..2). That's all I ask of myself... one hole per round--one shot that I can toast to later. I will never toss my clubs in the water because as bad as one hole can be, every "next hole" could be the hole you tell your grandkids about. Reason ..2348 why I love golf. In an upcoming blog, I will jot down "Everything I Need To Know About Life I Learned From Golf" (sorry, kindergarden).
The 19th hole was back at my place... Ezra and I treated ourselves and our friend Consuela to burgers off the $1000 community grill in front of my place (¡Me encanta mi... uhh condo...o!) as well as Pumpkin Ice Cream from Dreyers (if there's any left at your supermarket, try it now or live the rest of your life wondering what you've missed). Then, it was time to
PARTY. Ezra & I went to an abc7-hosted Halloween shindig as "The Life of the Party." More specifically, I was a giant beer bottle with a label that summed up our entire weekend: "Geniune. Premium. Beer." Ezra went as a keg... but wait, there's more. His top, which looked like a tap, actually held 12 ounces of beer which he could then drink thru a built-in tap. It was a huge hit. Though I had to sacrifice 4% of my time budgeted for dancing with hot chicks to fill him up, I'd do it for any good man. Props to Ron Burgundy & Veronica Corningstone, Lil John and the Fantanas for 2nd, 3rd & 4th place in my book... behind Ezra's Keg (extra points for practicality).
I closed out with a perfect Sunday... chocolate-chip pancakes down at IHOP, watching an OT fieldgoal bury Ben Worthlessburger and the Steelers and catching up on Heroes. By the way, I checked out the comic book on the Heroes site... don't count the quarterback out just yet........... (what does he mean? ... why is he talking like that? ... is he gonna do that the whole blog?)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'll close out this week's version of "Inside my Head" by answering the 5 most popular questions I've received lately.
1. How is your dad doing?
He tells me he's in wonderful spirits (as are my mom, sister, and I) and is constantly touched whenever I tell him any of you send your best. Thank all of you again for your support in so many ways. We are soaring towards our monetary goal of $140,000 for his transplant and such which is now scheduled for mid-November.
2. How are you doing?
I'm very happy. Counting down to dad's transplant (which I'm very confident in). I've also had a well-rounded 30 days of travel. In fact, this'll be my first 5-day workweek since September. I'm just gettin ready to hunker down for another long work-stretch including the beloved November sweeps. And my health is great.
3. What's up with our WHS '01 Reunion?
It's the Friday after Thanksgiving. Providence. Check the last email I wrote you this summer. Zack & I will hopefully send out final times and cost this week. Don't assume I have your email... send it to me.
4. When are you moving back east?
Not sure about that. I will admit... all signs point to D.C. Eventually. For now, I'm soaking up every moment in New Mexico. It's such a refreshing contrast to a northeast lifer, I'm not taking one sunset, one enchilada, one post-rain mesquite bush for granted.
5. What happened to your Sox?
Go Patriots. 5-1, baby!
If you have any questions for Jayme, message his myspace page or IM him at LPBrew82. Then check his next blog and tell all your friends: "I'm on Jayme's blog." And they'll be like: "No way." And you'll be all like: "Heck yes, I am. Check it out." And they'll be like "Pssh... whatev." And you'll be all like: "I whatev'd your mom last night."
Or something like that... talk to you soon.
Watch for my next blog, Golf: The Greatest Game Ever Created By Humans.
-30-
It's one thing to hear it, another to see it with your own eyes. I did this weekend, watching Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and the rest of the Rolling Stones tear up the Sun Bowl for an hour and a half Friday night. I've been to good concerts, some of them great. Friday night was inspiring. Seeing a band so legendary that Dave Matthews would bow down to them... which he did when he came back out to help Mick sing "Lean on Me." I guess I should mention that Dave opened for the Stones with an hour-twenty-minute set of his own. He opened with "Don't Drink the Water," played my favorite DMB song "Grey Street," and (praise Apollo) closed with Ants. I loved just watching him and Mick dance for 3 hours. The only Stones song I really wanted to hear live was Start Me Up (which, surprisingly, they played like 7th). After every song, Ezra & I looked at each other and sung "DAAA D'UH DAT" until they finally freggin' played it.
One night. Two bands crossed off my list of bands I need to see before I assume my next form (or the bands do). Bands I've now seen include (no order): DMB, The Stones, Boston, Doobie Brothers, Allman Brothers, Waltham, Ben Folds, Guster, Ben Folds WITH Guster (still my favorite show), 3eb (still my favorite band), Bosstones, All-American Rejects, Yellowcard, The Offspring, Gym Class Heroes, Flogging Molly, Fountains of Wayne (most random concert I've ever seen... playing impromptu in front of the Hancock... remember Meglino?), Four Tops - Temptations - OJs - Whispers (same show), The Indigo Girls, Maynard Ferguson w/ Big Bop Nouveau... and maybe some I forgot.
Groups/Artists I still need to see: BNL, Green Day, Maroon 5, Rockapella, Billy Joel, the Eagles, Goo Goo Dolls, U2. I guess Dispatch is out of the question... or is it?
Saturday began with 18 sweet holes at the prestigious NMSU Golf Course. I got my birdie (an uphill 25-foot putt on ..2). That's all I ask of myself... one hole per round--one shot that I can toast to later. I will never toss my clubs in the water because as bad as one hole can be, every "next hole" could be the hole you tell your grandkids about. Reason ..2348 why I love golf. In an upcoming blog, I will jot down "Everything I Need To Know About Life I Learned From Golf" (sorry, kindergarden).
The 19th hole was back at my place... Ezra and I treated ourselves and our friend Consuela to burgers off the $1000 community grill in front of my place (¡Me encanta mi... uhh condo...o!) as well as Pumpkin Ice Cream from Dreyers (if there's any left at your supermarket, try it now or live the rest of your life wondering what you've missed). Then, it was time to
PARTY. Ezra & I went to an abc7-hosted Halloween shindig as "The Life of the Party." More specifically, I was a giant beer bottle with a label that summed up our entire weekend: "Geniune. Premium. Beer." Ezra went as a keg... but wait, there's more. His top, which looked like a tap, actually held 12 ounces of beer which he could then drink thru a built-in tap. It was a huge hit. Though I had to sacrifice 4% of my time budgeted for dancing with hot chicks to fill him up, I'd do it for any good man. Props to Ron Burgundy & Veronica Corningstone, Lil John and the Fantanas for 2nd, 3rd & 4th place in my book... behind Ezra's Keg (extra points for practicality).
I closed out with a perfect Sunday... chocolate-chip pancakes down at IHOP, watching an OT fieldgoal bury Ben Worthlessburger and the Steelers and catching up on Heroes. By the way, I checked out the comic book on the Heroes site... don't count the quarterback out just yet........... (what does he mean? ... why is he talking like that? ... is he gonna do that the whole blog?)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'll close out this week's version of "Inside my Head" by answering the 5 most popular questions I've received lately.
1. How is your dad doing?
He tells me he's in wonderful spirits (as are my mom, sister, and I) and is constantly touched whenever I tell him any of you send your best. Thank all of you again for your support in so many ways. We are soaring towards our monetary goal of $140,000 for his transplant and such which is now scheduled for mid-November.
2. How are you doing?
I'm very happy. Counting down to dad's transplant (which I'm very confident in). I've also had a well-rounded 30 days of travel. In fact, this'll be my first 5-day workweek since September. I'm just gettin ready to hunker down for another long work-stretch including the beloved November sweeps. And my health is great.
3. What's up with our WHS '01 Reunion?
It's the Friday after Thanksgiving. Providence. Check the last email I wrote you this summer. Zack & I will hopefully send out final times and cost this week. Don't assume I have your email... send it to me.
4. When are you moving back east?
Not sure about that. I will admit... all signs point to D.C. Eventually. For now, I'm soaking up every moment in New Mexico. It's such a refreshing contrast to a northeast lifer, I'm not taking one sunset, one enchilada, one post-rain mesquite bush for granted.
5. What happened to your Sox?
Go Patriots. 5-1, baby!
If you have any questions for Jayme, message his myspace page or IM him at LPBrew82. Then check his next blog and tell all your friends: "I'm on Jayme's blog." And they'll be like: "No way." And you'll be all like: "Heck yes, I am. Check it out." And they'll be like "Pssh... whatev." And you'll be all like: "I whatev'd your mom last night."
Or something like that... talk to you soon.
Watch for my next blog, Golf: The Greatest Game Ever Created By Humans.
-30-
Saturday, September 30, 2006
We Move Along
A few life reminders from the past week:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
D on't burn bridges.
(You never know when you're going to need someone... and you certainly never know when you're going to need everyone.)
A ttitude is everything.
(It's never hard to say "poor me." But it's also no magic trick to say "I have been blessed with hundreds of beautiful friends, 1000s of caring supporters, and a strong and inspiring family." Half the glass has water in it... the choice is always yours and yours alone.)
V alue stability.
(My senior year of high school, I told my parents I feel spoiled. Because of their hardwork, I live in a gorgeous suburb, have a car I didn't pay for, I'm not worried about college and two parents that have stayed married for 25 years. They told me everyone gets a turn to carry heavy baggage and that, in the meantime, you stock up your principles, treasure your friends and take your vitamins. Now, my Dad takes it easy on the stairs and I stick myself 4 times a day. Don't be sorry. Life happens, and it's beautiful. If it hasn't happened to you yet, don't feel guilty. It will. And when it does... you can call me.)
I nternet rocks.
(Within a week of my sister's email... 1000s of people got word about Dad. We have a website, and the NFT is about to hook up with Paypal for the first time ever. Nothing has taken a greater stride in making our world smaller since the printing press. And gravity. Gravity rocks, too.)
D ie proud.
(Dave Matthews sings "everyday should be a good day to die." I think it is so long as you dedicate your life to making the world a bit better and inspire others to do the same. My father has done this as hundreds of donators will testify. And if he died tomorrow, we will know we did everything we could so he could keep giving back. May we all be so rich as you, Dad.
That said, you're not going anywhere soon. I'll call you tomorrow during the game.
-30-
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
D on't burn bridges.
(You never know when you're going to need someone... and you certainly never know when you're going to need everyone.)
A ttitude is everything.
(It's never hard to say "poor me." But it's also no magic trick to say "I have been blessed with hundreds of beautiful friends, 1000s of caring supporters, and a strong and inspiring family." Half the glass has water in it... the choice is always yours and yours alone.)
V alue stability.
(My senior year of high school, I told my parents I feel spoiled. Because of their hardwork, I live in a gorgeous suburb, have a car I didn't pay for, I'm not worried about college and two parents that have stayed married for 25 years. They told me everyone gets a turn to carry heavy baggage and that, in the meantime, you stock up your principles, treasure your friends and take your vitamins. Now, my Dad takes it easy on the stairs and I stick myself 4 times a day. Don't be sorry. Life happens, and it's beautiful. If it hasn't happened to you yet, don't feel guilty. It will. And when it does... you can call me.)
I nternet rocks.
(Within a week of my sister's email... 1000s of people got word about Dad. We have a website, and the NFT is about to hook up with Paypal for the first time ever. Nothing has taken a greater stride in making our world smaller since the printing press. And gravity. Gravity rocks, too.)
D ie proud.
(Dave Matthews sings "everyday should be a good day to die." I think it is so long as you dedicate your life to making the world a bit better and inspire others to do the same. My father has done this as hundreds of donators will testify. And if he died tomorrow, we will know we did everything we could so he could keep giving back. May we all be so rich as you, Dad.
That said, you're not going anywhere soon. I'll call you tomorrow during the game.
-30-
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Our Father
Dear Friends,
Our dad, David Rubenstein, is 52-years-old. If things continue as they are, he most likely will not see 55. He has systemic scleroderma, a rare autoimmune disease that causes the skin, lungs, and other connective tissues in his body to harden. His lung capacity is 45% and falling.
Until 3 years ago, other patients with advanced systemic scleroderma had all passed away. Now, doctors have learned to use patients' own bone marrow cells to reverse damage and extend their lives. Our dad is scheduled for a bone marrow transplant this coming November.
Our health insurance company has denied coverage for the transplant needed to save his life, considering it is experimental. In order to have the transplant, our family must pay $90,000 to the hospital beforehand and an additional sum of about $50,000 for other expenses related to the transplant and follow-up care. If we do not raise the money, he will lose the appointment, and we lose our Dad.
Fortunately for us, the National Foundation for Transplants (NFT) was founded 23 years ago. The NFT is a non-profit organization, which assists transplant patients directly with advocacy and financial support. All of the money donated to the NFT goes directly to pay for transplant-recipient's care.
Here is where you come in. If you would like to get involved, please let us know and we will keep you on an e-mail list to get updates on any fundraisers we have going, and if/when we need any positions filled.
If you, or anyone you know, would like to make a direct donation, here's how:
1) WRITE A CHECK, payable to "Nat'l Foundation for Transplants," memo
line: "MA Bone Marrow Fund." Send to:
HELP DAVID
National Foundation for Transplants
MA Bone Marrow Fund
P.O. Box 5611
Marlboro, MA 01752
2) PAY BY PHONE. Call the NFT toll-free at 800-489-3863 and specify your credit-card donation is for David Rubenstein's Massachusetts Bone Marrow Fund.
3) NFT is working on setting up a PayPal account specifically for our dad's funds. I will send out an update when that goes into effect.
Every dollar counts! If we manage to overshoot our goal, excess donations will go into the NFT's general fund to help more patients afford this life-saving procedure. Whether you donate or not, please forward this e-mail to all YOUR friends, families, and co-workers. Dollars only come in when the word goes out.
Thank you all for your help and friendship. It means the world to our family the love and support we've been given through this process.
Sincerely,
Jayme & Emily Rubenstein
Our dad, David Rubenstein, is 52-years-old. If things continue as they are, he most likely will not see 55. He has systemic scleroderma, a rare autoimmune disease that causes the skin, lungs, and other connective tissues in his body to harden. His lung capacity is 45% and falling.
Until 3 years ago, other patients with advanced systemic scleroderma had all passed away. Now, doctors have learned to use patients' own bone marrow cells to reverse damage and extend their lives. Our dad is scheduled for a bone marrow transplant this coming November.
Our health insurance company has denied coverage for the transplant needed to save his life, considering it is experimental. In order to have the transplant, our family must pay $90,000 to the hospital beforehand and an additional sum of about $50,000 for other expenses related to the transplant and follow-up care. If we do not raise the money, he will lose the appointment, and we lose our Dad.
Fortunately for us, the National Foundation for Transplants (NFT) was founded 23 years ago. The NFT is a non-profit organization, which assists transplant patients directly with advocacy and financial support. All of the money donated to the NFT goes directly to pay for transplant-recipient's care.
Here is where you come in. If you would like to get involved, please let us know and we will keep you on an e-mail list to get updates on any fundraisers we have going, and if/when we need any positions filled.
If you, or anyone you know, would like to make a direct donation, here's how:
1) WRITE A CHECK, payable to "Nat'l Foundation for Transplants," memo
line: "MA Bone Marrow Fund." Send to:
HELP DAVID
National Foundation for Transplants
MA Bone Marrow Fund
P.O. Box 5611
Marlboro, MA 01752
2) PAY BY PHONE. Call the NFT toll-free at 800-489-3863 and specify your credit-card donation is for David Rubenstein's Massachusetts Bone Marrow Fund.
3) NFT is working on setting up a PayPal account specifically for our dad's funds. I will send out an update when that goes into effect.
Every dollar counts! If we manage to overshoot our goal, excess donations will go into the NFT's general fund to help more patients afford this life-saving procedure. Whether you donate or not, please forward this e-mail to all YOUR friends, families, and co-workers. Dollars only come in when the word goes out.
Thank you all for your help and friendship. It means the world to our family the love and support we've been given through this process.
Sincerely,
Jayme & Emily Rubenstein
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Pride.
Pride cannot be taken.
You, alone, can keep it... surrender it... and reobtain it. No one else.
We can all benefit from reminding ourselves that, especially my brothers and sisters of the Pride of the Orange... my beloved Syracuse University Marching Band which took a shot across it's bow this week from our ever-ignorant and apathetic student newspaper. This was printed in the Daily Orange on Wednesday, Sept 13:
------------------------------------------
Anyone at the Dome last Saturday knows the play calling was terrible and the execution was worse. When it was all over, I was actually glad to see the football team come back on to the field.
That's right, I'm talking about the Syracuse University Marching Band, the so-called "Pride of the Orange." Let's not kid around, bandies: the pride of the Orange is Baton Girl, and you are like so many Kevin Federlines to her Britney. Now take out your stupid-looking cornrows and go back to fathering this nation's next generation of hyper-sexual teen stars.
In actuality, the best teams to take the field for SU this fall are the field hockey and men's soccer squads, both at 3-2. Though the men's cross-country team has picked up two first places so far, I don't count them. "Run through the woods" is not a sport, it is step number one in "how to escape a bear."
Meanwhile, the marching band has yet to even compete, giving them a grand total of zero wins for this year. Thanks for bringing such marvelous accolades to our proud alma mater, guys.
Tom Dilella, an undeclared freshman and tuba-playing marcher, said he is not even sure when the band's first competition will be, but the SUMB is "going up to Toronto for something."
I'm guessing that's either a pot-smoking convention or a seminar called "How to get away with using other students' tuition to buy ridiculous outfits and still refuse to play the 'Hey Song.'"
(In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I was in my high school marching band; I even met my fiancée there. But I only joined to see if band camp was really the bastion of rampant sexcapades that "American Pie" made it out to be. It turns out my band camp was more along the lines of a Kmart sweat shop-I played first sewing machine. Most of us lived.)
As for this year's halftime show, Dilella described the set this way: "We got 'Dancin' Men,' 'Mercy Mercy Mercy' and 'Channel One Sweet.'"
Is it just me, or does that sound like the primetime lineup of a gay porn channel? Why don't we just replace the color guard with Chippendales?
There must be better amusements we could feature during halftimes. I like it when stadiums bring out the Average Joe and let him try to kick a field goal for $10,000, because of how funny is it when he misses! Oh man, and you just know he's got late car payments, too. You can't buy that kind of entertainment.
Here's a thought: we could just have the Orange play a quick game against a local high school, thus giving the fans a chance to finally see a victory by their hometown team. You know, one way or the other.
Seriously, anything would be better than watching a bunch of horn-blowers march around in indistinguishable formations. At least Ohio State University's band does that cool thing where they spell out "Ohio" in cursive. Why can't our band take it to the next level and spell out "Hey visiting fans, we slashed your tires-have fun getting back to Iowa"?
Despite torturing the crowds with their usual, tired routines, the marchers sure give themselves a lot of credit.
"We feel like we have some part in contributing to the (football) team's effort," Dilella said.
Oh really? Thanks a lot SUMB, that's working like gangbusters. Keep it up and we might just make it to 0-12.//
Seamus O'Connor actually played tenor saxophone, most pimpin' of all instruments. Email him at sroconno@syr.edu.
-------------------------------------------------
This caused quite a predictable stir among band members young and old... so far, two ALUMNAE have had letters to the editor published, and at least one more is on it's way.
I wrote a letter to the editor of my high school paper once after a scathing review of my senior One-Act Play Festival which admittedly lasted about 46 days. I felt the article undermined all the hard work we'd put into that production and gave the impression that no one enjoyed it. I wouldn't write that letter again, because I realize that anyone who saw the show knows what they thought of it... anyone who participated knows what it meant to contribute to it... and that article was one man's opinion, printed-- sure. But still just one.
While I compliment an ex-drum major and ex-uh... "formations coordinator" (I guess?) on well-written responses (and they were), I invite all you guys to simply let it pass. If you embrace college as a great place to refine your personality (drunken tirades excluded) take Seamus's article as an exercise in something I call "ignoring stupid people."
Responses will fall mainly on deaf ears... the student body you're trying to convince that the Pride guards our university's traditions either already knows that or doesn't give a shit. Your response won't change that... but don't worry... neither did O'Connor. In fact, I'll guess that 99% of the people who read more than half his article are band kids... and maybe their roommates.
"Seamus O'Connor"s are going to follow you the rest of your life. He will be your co-worker, your brother-in-law, a politicial opponent, the drunk who's hitting on your girlfriend, your child's teacher... learn to ignore him now. Take the energy you'd need to set him straight and invest it in fortifying your pride in what you KNOW you've achieved.
No one can take that Pride away from you.
You, alone, can keep it... surrender it... and reobtain it. No one else.
We can all benefit from reminding ourselves that, especially my brothers and sisters of the Pride of the Orange... my beloved Syracuse University Marching Band which took a shot across it's bow this week from our ever-ignorant and apathetic student newspaper. This was printed in the Daily Orange on Wednesday, Sept 13:
------------------------------------------
Anyone at the Dome last Saturday knows the play calling was terrible and the execution was worse. When it was all over, I was actually glad to see the football team come back on to the field.
That's right, I'm talking about the Syracuse University Marching Band, the so-called "Pride of the Orange." Let's not kid around, bandies: the pride of the Orange is Baton Girl, and you are like so many Kevin Federlines to her Britney. Now take out your stupid-looking cornrows and go back to fathering this nation's next generation of hyper-sexual teen stars.
In actuality, the best teams to take the field for SU this fall are the field hockey and men's soccer squads, both at 3-2. Though the men's cross-country team has picked up two first places so far, I don't count them. "Run through the woods" is not a sport, it is step number one in "how to escape a bear."
Meanwhile, the marching band has yet to even compete, giving them a grand total of zero wins for this year. Thanks for bringing such marvelous accolades to our proud alma mater, guys.
Tom Dilella, an undeclared freshman and tuba-playing marcher, said he is not even sure when the band's first competition will be, but the SUMB is "going up to Toronto for something."
I'm guessing that's either a pot-smoking convention or a seminar called "How to get away with using other students' tuition to buy ridiculous outfits and still refuse to play the 'Hey Song.'"
(In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I was in my high school marching band; I even met my fiancée there. But I only joined to see if band camp was really the bastion of rampant sexcapades that "American Pie" made it out to be. It turns out my band camp was more along the lines of a Kmart sweat shop-I played first sewing machine. Most of us lived.)
As for this year's halftime show, Dilella described the set this way: "We got 'Dancin' Men,' 'Mercy Mercy Mercy' and 'Channel One Sweet.'"
Is it just me, or does that sound like the primetime lineup of a gay porn channel? Why don't we just replace the color guard with Chippendales?
There must be better amusements we could feature during halftimes. I like it when stadiums bring out the Average Joe and let him try to kick a field goal for $10,000, because of how funny is it when he misses! Oh man, and you just know he's got late car payments, too. You can't buy that kind of entertainment.
Here's a thought: we could just have the Orange play a quick game against a local high school, thus giving the fans a chance to finally see a victory by their hometown team. You know, one way or the other.
Seriously, anything would be better than watching a bunch of horn-blowers march around in indistinguishable formations. At least Ohio State University's band does that cool thing where they spell out "Ohio" in cursive. Why can't our band take it to the next level and spell out "Hey visiting fans, we slashed your tires-have fun getting back to Iowa"?
Despite torturing the crowds with their usual, tired routines, the marchers sure give themselves a lot of credit.
"We feel like we have some part in contributing to the (football) team's effort," Dilella said.
Oh really? Thanks a lot SUMB, that's working like gangbusters. Keep it up and we might just make it to 0-12.//
Seamus O'Connor actually played tenor saxophone, most pimpin' of all instruments. Email him at sroconno@syr.edu.
-------------------------------------------------
This caused quite a predictable stir among band members young and old... so far, two ALUMNAE have had letters to the editor published, and at least one more is on it's way.
I wrote a letter to the editor of my high school paper once after a scathing review of my senior One-Act Play Festival which admittedly lasted about 46 days. I felt the article undermined all the hard work we'd put into that production and gave the impression that no one enjoyed it. I wouldn't write that letter again, because I realize that anyone who saw the show knows what they thought of it... anyone who participated knows what it meant to contribute to it... and that article was one man's opinion, printed-- sure. But still just one.
While I compliment an ex-drum major and ex-uh... "formations coordinator" (I guess?) on well-written responses (and they were), I invite all you guys to simply let it pass. If you embrace college as a great place to refine your personality (drunken tirades excluded) take Seamus's article as an exercise in something I call "ignoring stupid people."
Responses will fall mainly on deaf ears... the student body you're trying to convince that the Pride guards our university's traditions either already knows that or doesn't give a shit. Your response won't change that... but don't worry... neither did O'Connor. In fact, I'll guess that 99% of the people who read more than half his article are band kids... and maybe their roommates.
"Seamus O'Connor"s are going to follow you the rest of your life. He will be your co-worker, your brother-in-law, a politicial opponent, the drunk who's hitting on your girlfriend, your child's teacher... learn to ignore him now. Take the energy you'd need to set him straight and invest it in fortifying your pride in what you KNOW you've achieved.
No one can take that Pride away from you.
Monday, September 11, 2006
September 11th, 2006
The thing that hits me on September 11th is that we Americans have the luxury of focusing on "September 11th." We'll ask ourselves, our relatives and co-workers if we feel safer or not 5 years after the Wake-Up Call. We seem to seldom stop and appreciate the fact that mile-high plumes of toxic dust are not more common in our metro-skylines.
What date do you think they'll pick in Iraq or Afghanistan or Lebanon or Israel? Is there one day to reflect on decades/centuries of mass distruction? The loss of countless mosques? Temples? Churches? Schools? Media centers? Pivotal infrastructure? Homes? Lives? What date have the Kashmiris designated to reflect on the result of hatred? The Sudanese? The Irish? The Chechnyans?
12/21/88, 9/11/01, 3/11/04, 7/7/05... Americans, Spaniards, Brits & Scots remember these dates because we can. Because fortunately we don't have many to choose from. Why is that? Because the terrorists choose not to hit us yet or because our governments don't let them? I don't know... and if you're reading my blog, chances are you don't either. But I do know I have nothing to do with our anti-terror successes or failures. I was just lucky enough to be born in a country that needs to dig back more than a week to list five incidents of mass-causality within 2,000 miles of my brand-new adobe condominium.
"...this kind of life makes that violence unthinkable..."
Now I'm all for asking our government to try protecting us. If it doesn't... why have government at all? But I fear Americans expect too much protection in this itty, bitty world of ours. Politicians are afraid to admit vulnerability... and who can blame them? The public is too afraid to hear it. (A vicious cycle, greased by the one renewable energy source this country uses regularly: Fear). And so we wrap ourselves in a caccoon of fear, saying over and over that this War On Terror can be won and evil be no more... spoken like a real 230-year-old country, if you ask me.
If the idea of worldwide extremism bothers you, here's your options, as I see them:
a) Join an Intelligence Agency
b) Leave protection to those who have, and just live each day like you'd be proud to make it your last
c) Sit at home worrying about something you know little about and have no control over
d) Kill yourself, start over. Play the odds that any parallel universe possesses less hate than this one
a) has tempted me in the past. But I'll stick with b). At least for now.
And I'll stop for a second today and reflect on how lucky I am to live where I do, when I do. If my timing had been different, I could have died in Tower One, or the Oklahoma City Federal Building, or Baghdad, Beirut, above Lockerbie, in Saigon, East Berlin, or a host of other hate-filled time-spaces. But I didn't... so I better not waste my lucky oxygen.
I try to think about that for a few seconds EVERYday.
After all, September 11th, 2006 is just another day.
What date do you think they'll pick in Iraq or Afghanistan or Lebanon or Israel? Is there one day to reflect on decades/centuries of mass distruction? The loss of countless mosques? Temples? Churches? Schools? Media centers? Pivotal infrastructure? Homes? Lives? What date have the Kashmiris designated to reflect on the result of hatred? The Sudanese? The Irish? The Chechnyans?
12/21/88, 9/11/01, 3/11/04, 7/7/05... Americans, Spaniards, Brits & Scots remember these dates because we can. Because fortunately we don't have many to choose from. Why is that? Because the terrorists choose not to hit us yet or because our governments don't let them? I don't know... and if you're reading my blog, chances are you don't either. But I do know I have nothing to do with our anti-terror successes or failures. I was just lucky enough to be born in a country that needs to dig back more than a week to list five incidents of mass-causality within 2,000 miles of my brand-new adobe condominium.
"...this kind of life makes that violence unthinkable..."
Now I'm all for asking our government to try protecting us. If it doesn't... why have government at all? But I fear Americans expect too much protection in this itty, bitty world of ours. Politicians are afraid to admit vulnerability... and who can blame them? The public is too afraid to hear it. (A vicious cycle, greased by the one renewable energy source this country uses regularly: Fear). And so we wrap ourselves in a caccoon of fear, saying over and over that this War On Terror can be won and evil be no more... spoken like a real 230-year-old country, if you ask me.
If the idea of worldwide extremism bothers you, here's your options, as I see them:
a) Join an Intelligence Agency
b) Leave protection to those who have, and just live each day like you'd be proud to make it your last
c) Sit at home worrying about something you know little about and have no control over
d) Kill yourself, start over. Play the odds that any parallel universe possesses less hate than this one
a) has tempted me in the past. But I'll stick with b). At least for now.
And I'll stop for a second today and reflect on how lucky I am to live where I do, when I do. If my timing had been different, I could have died in Tower One, or the Oklahoma City Federal Building, or Baghdad, Beirut, above Lockerbie, in Saigon, East Berlin, or a host of other hate-filled time-spaces. But I didn't... so I better not waste my lucky oxygen.
I try to think about that for a few seconds EVERYday.
After all, September 11th, 2006 is just another day.
Thursday, September 7, 2006
Love That Dirty Watah
Spent the last 2 days bumming around Boston.
First thing I did was let a nice lady drain 3 vials of blood out of my arm (welcome home!)
Then, I walked from Joslin Clinic (near Longwood Station) all the way to the church in front of the Hancock. It was the best 3 miles I've walked in ages. Listening to the sirens, the car horns, the random pieces of intellectual discourse as I strolled past a dozen universities, the smell of 102% humidity mixed with wafts of curry, teriyaki and Burger King fries, and all the relaxing feelings that stem from both knowing you're home and NOT knowing exactly where you are. As I was walking along the pool in front of the First Church of Christ, Scientist... I saw a 70+ year-old man walking up one step, right on the side of the pool. Just like any 6-year-old would do. Just like I was doing when I saw him. I jumped down to let him pass. He smiled at me and strolled on. I thought two things at that moment, as I jumped back up to the side of the pool: (a) I'm so happy right now, I feel like I'm in a remade music video for Dave's "Everyday" and (b) it's nice to see proof that you never get too old to balance on the side of a pool just for shits.
The proverbial finish line to my stroll down Memory Lane was Anthony Richard Ring. For anyone who knows him, you are also striken with how appropriate this is. Dinger is the quintessential Bostonian. If I had my way, he would be digitally imposed somewhere in the background in Good Will Hunting, Mystic River, Celtic Pride, and Blown Away (did you know that was set here, too?) Anthony and I sharpened our small-talk skills en route to Whiskey's w/ Jim & BH. Heading to a bar with these 3 was a step back in time. But if that's not all, Whiskey's ended up being 5 of my friends from SU, 5 from HIGH school and a truckload of 10-cent wings. (p.s. Lynn, seeing you was an utter surprise and one of the most pleasant of my entire trip... and the fact that you backed me up when I made my most brazenly offensive comment of the evening, I feel like we've come full circle. I always think of you while planning my next holiday away message. Seriously, you're awesome and we should chat more often).
Random surprises proved to be my Homecoming Theme.
On Monday, I'm visiting my sister in Waltham and walking down an aisle in CVS when I run smack into Andrew Pollard... a dear friend from middle school I haven't seen in about 2 years. He had no idea I was home; I had no idea he was still in Waltham.
Back to Tuesday, I ran into Pat Gillooly, a dear friend and fellow journalist who directed my senior play in which I babysat a bunch of mentally challenged individuals. It remains my favorite work, tied with playing Nikhil's father that same year.
I also ran into Casey, our recently departed intern (yes, in EL PASO). He goes to BU... and apparently to karaoke bars on Tuesday nights.
My fifth surprise came last night at Fenway. Fly ball. Deep right. Trot Nixon goes back to grab it at the wall. I stand up. My dear friend from high school, Vicky recognizes me from 10 rows back. So we spent 2 innings catching up; I met the lucky boy. To make this encounter even more special, she's also taking a week off from San Diego. Crazy, crazy odds...
(by the way, I did hold my father's hand when I walked out of the tunnel. And in Waltham, Emmy and I played Dr. Mario, Kirby's Dream Golf and rummy-500 while downing Oreos for 3 hours... Vacation: Complete.)
And the stars keep lining up... Lil Bro 1.0 has a big interview in Boston today so we'll be doing dinner. So I've seen both Little Brothers & Emmy this past month... I guess that puts Jennifer & Vito on-deck. Can't wait, you two...
If you don't know any names I've mentioned (except maybe Casey's)... it means I haven't seen you in a week. I miss you all, I miss normal humidity, I miss anything spicer than BBQ sauce. I do not, however, miss "Hips Don't Lie." I've heard it 4 times this week... why does all of America love that damn song?
Two more days before the 8 becomes a 5 again...
Peath Out,
JaRube
First thing I did was let a nice lady drain 3 vials of blood out of my arm (welcome home!)
Then, I walked from Joslin Clinic (near Longwood Station) all the way to the church in front of the Hancock. It was the best 3 miles I've walked in ages. Listening to the sirens, the car horns, the random pieces of intellectual discourse as I strolled past a dozen universities, the smell of 102% humidity mixed with wafts of curry, teriyaki and Burger King fries, and all the relaxing feelings that stem from both knowing you're home and NOT knowing exactly where you are. As I was walking along the pool in front of the First Church of Christ, Scientist... I saw a 70+ year-old man walking up one step, right on the side of the pool. Just like any 6-year-old would do. Just like I was doing when I saw him. I jumped down to let him pass. He smiled at me and strolled on. I thought two things at that moment, as I jumped back up to the side of the pool: (a) I'm so happy right now, I feel like I'm in a remade music video for Dave's "Everyday" and (b) it's nice to see proof that you never get too old to balance on the side of a pool just for shits.
The proverbial finish line to my stroll down Memory Lane was Anthony Richard Ring. For anyone who knows him, you are also striken with how appropriate this is. Dinger is the quintessential Bostonian. If I had my way, he would be digitally imposed somewhere in the background in Good Will Hunting, Mystic River, Celtic Pride, and Blown Away (did you know that was set here, too?) Anthony and I sharpened our small-talk skills en route to Whiskey's w/ Jim & BH. Heading to a bar with these 3 was a step back in time. But if that's not all, Whiskey's ended up being 5 of my friends from SU, 5 from HIGH school and a truckload of 10-cent wings. (p.s. Lynn, seeing you was an utter surprise and one of the most pleasant of my entire trip... and the fact that you backed me up when I made my most brazenly offensive comment of the evening, I feel like we've come full circle. I always think of you while planning my next holiday away message. Seriously, you're awesome and we should chat more often).
Random surprises proved to be my Homecoming Theme.
On Monday, I'm visiting my sister in Waltham and walking down an aisle in CVS when I run smack into Andrew Pollard... a dear friend from middle school I haven't seen in about 2 years. He had no idea I was home; I had no idea he was still in Waltham.
Back to Tuesday, I ran into Pat Gillooly, a dear friend and fellow journalist who directed my senior play in which I babysat a bunch of mentally challenged individuals. It remains my favorite work, tied with playing Nikhil's father that same year.
I also ran into Casey, our recently departed intern (yes, in EL PASO). He goes to BU... and apparently to karaoke bars on Tuesday nights.
My fifth surprise came last night at Fenway. Fly ball. Deep right. Trot Nixon goes back to grab it at the wall. I stand up. My dear friend from high school, Vicky recognizes me from 10 rows back. So we spent 2 innings catching up; I met the lucky boy. To make this encounter even more special, she's also taking a week off from San Diego. Crazy, crazy odds...
(by the way, I did hold my father's hand when I walked out of the tunnel. And in Waltham, Emmy and I played Dr. Mario, Kirby's Dream Golf and rummy-500 while downing Oreos for 3 hours... Vacation: Complete.)
And the stars keep lining up... Lil Bro 1.0 has a big interview in Boston today so we'll be doing dinner. So I've seen both Little Brothers & Emmy this past month... I guess that puts Jennifer & Vito on-deck. Can't wait, you two...
If you don't know any names I've mentioned (except maybe Casey's)... it means I haven't seen you in a week. I miss you all, I miss normal humidity, I miss anything spicer than BBQ sauce. I do not, however, miss "Hips Don't Lie." I've heard it 4 times this week... why does all of America love that damn song?
Two more days before the 8 becomes a 5 again...
Peath Out,
JaRube
Monday, September 4, 2006
My Life Soundtrack
My Anthem: "Take It Easy," The Eagles
Time to Face The Day: "1 Angry Dwarf & 200 Solemn Faces," Ben Folds
My Pastime: "Centerfield," John Fogerty
Song for My Friends I: "Don't Stop Believing," Journey
Back to Middle School I: "Smells Like Teen Spirit," Nirvana
Back to Middle School II: "Bad Habit," The Offspring
Song for Him/Her: "Waste," Smashmouth
My Favorite Place I: "Dirty Water," The Standells
Favorite TV Show: "I'll Be There For You," The Rembrandts
Party Time I: "Seniorita," Justin Timberlake
Party Time II: "Pour Some Sugar On Me," Def Leppard
Song for My Friends II: "Take Me Out," Franz Ferdinand
Back to High School I: "Free Bird," Lynyrd Skynyrd
Back to High School II: "In The Car," Barenaked Ladies
Back to High School III: "San Dimas HS Football Rules," The Ataris
Song for Him/Her: "Blinded," Third Eye Blind
My Favorite Place II: "Lights," Journey
Back to College I: "One Shining Moment," Luther Vandross
Back to College II: "Died In Your Arms Tonight," Cutting Crew
Back to College III: "The General," Dispatch
Favorite Weather/Time of Year: "Boys Of Summer," Don Henley
Time to Be Alone: "Dock of the Bay," Otis Redding
My World View: "Lie In Our Graves," Dave Matthews Band
Song for My Friends III: "Sweet Caroline," Neil Diamond
Song for The Fam: "Peanut Butter Jelly Time," Buckwheat Boys
Song for Secret Him/Her: "Closing Time," Tom Waits
Looking Ahead: "Turn The Page," Bob Seger
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Go Rangers!
Courtesy of Towanda! Valle, a High School Survey.
(p.s. If you went to high school with me AND you can pronounce "Valle" correctly, I'll give you a free enchilada.)
1. Who was your best friend?
The Hottub Gang (Shaun, Doug, Brad... they came and sat with me my second day of 6th grade when I was new in town. I will never forget that day.)
2. What sports did you play?
I was a 2-year alternate on the golf team.
3. What kind of car did you drive?:
'92 Ford Taurus (I love how the entire sax quartet had white cars... in Westborough, even the grass was white)
4. It's Friday night, where were you at?
Chaulkies, training myself in classic rock culture
5. Were you a party animal?:
absolutely not. Didn't have a drop of the sauce in high school and never went to parties. It's okay, college buddies. You can gasp.
6. Were you considered a flirt?:
Class Flirt
7. Ever skip school?
No, but I would drive to CVS during yearbook class to pick up one-hour. I was such a bad-ass.
8. Were you a nerd?
I don't know... maybe. I'll defer to my knowing audience. I don't care either way.
9. Did you ever get suspended/expelled?
not in high school... but I did get 41 detentions for being a wise-ass. I served them all setting up the chrous room in the morning.
10. Can you sing the Alma mater?
We didn't have one. And "California" was our fight song. Yes, I went to high school in Massachusetts. Please hold your questions til the end.
11. Who was your favorite teacher?
I can't pick one. Jost, P, Seaman, O'Brien, Reno, Leahy, Ventriglia (my spanish teacher, how'd you GUESS?)
And yes, we had two chorus teachers named P & Seaman, don't bother making a joke... we made them all, but these guys rocked the house. You either had them or wish you did.
12. Favorite class?
American History w/ O'Brien (v. Thompson) and Select Chorus
13. What was your school's full name?:
Uhh... Westborough High School?
14. School mascot?
The Rangers... and our main rival was the Algonquin Tomahawks... go figure.
15. Did you go to Prom?
twice
16. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
Yeah, and I'd loosen up a bit... God, how did my friends tolerate me?
17. What do you remember most about graduation?
The fact that everyone got a good ovation... I went to 4 graduations, and that spoke volumes to me about how close our class really was, no bull.
18. Favorite memory of your Senior Year?
EUROPE '06! Performing the Haydn mass in St. Marx Cathedral, Soloing in a town hall outside Budapest, touring Vienna, and hearing things like "Jayme, look! LOOK AT ME! Look, I'm a condom... I'm a condom... GET IT?"
19. What were you voted in your yearbook?
Class Flirt
20. What was your quote under your senior picture?
"Whether you think you can or you can't, you're right."
My mother's favorite saying.
21. Did you have a job your senior year?
Stop & Shop... I owe that job for giving me the same angry humor that Lewis Black got from rock music & the Nixon years.
22. Where did you go most often for lunch?:
Senior Year? The chorus room to rehearse my a cappella group because I was a sick, sick workaholic.
23. Have you gained weight since then?
30 lbs. And I couldn't be happier.
24. What did you do after graduation?
That summer was a quick blur. The next thing I remember is band camp at Syracuse.
25. Who was your crush?
Loaded Question of the Night. I crushed on about 200 girls in high school. If you think you're one of them... you're probably right. Sorry to freak you out. I've got two worth naming... but for the same reasons they're worthy... I won't.
26. When did you graduate?
May 2001.
(p.s. If you went to high school with me AND you can pronounce "Valle" correctly, I'll give you a free enchilada.)
1. Who was your best friend?
The Hottub Gang (Shaun, Doug, Brad... they came and sat with me my second day of 6th grade when I was new in town. I will never forget that day.)
2. What sports did you play?
I was a 2-year alternate on the golf team.
3. What kind of car did you drive?:
'92 Ford Taurus (I love how the entire sax quartet had white cars... in Westborough, even the grass was white)
4. It's Friday night, where were you at?
Chaulkies, training myself in classic rock culture
5. Were you a party animal?:
absolutely not. Didn't have a drop of the sauce in high school and never went to parties. It's okay, college buddies. You can gasp.
6. Were you considered a flirt?:
Class Flirt
7. Ever skip school?
No, but I would drive to CVS during yearbook class to pick up one-hour. I was such a bad-ass.
8. Were you a nerd?
I don't know... maybe. I'll defer to my knowing audience. I don't care either way.
9. Did you ever get suspended/expelled?
not in high school... but I did get 41 detentions for being a wise-ass. I served them all setting up the chrous room in the morning.
10. Can you sing the Alma mater?
We didn't have one. And "California" was our fight song. Yes, I went to high school in Massachusetts. Please hold your questions til the end.
11. Who was your favorite teacher?
I can't pick one. Jost, P, Seaman, O'Brien, Reno, Leahy, Ventriglia (my spanish teacher, how'd you GUESS?)
And yes, we had two chorus teachers named P & Seaman, don't bother making a joke... we made them all, but these guys rocked the house. You either had them or wish you did.
12. Favorite class?
American History w/ O'Brien (v. Thompson) and Select Chorus
13. What was your school's full name?:
Uhh... Westborough High School?
14. School mascot?
The Rangers... and our main rival was the Algonquin Tomahawks... go figure.
15. Did you go to Prom?
twice
16. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
Yeah, and I'd loosen up a bit... God, how did my friends tolerate me?
17. What do you remember most about graduation?
The fact that everyone got a good ovation... I went to 4 graduations, and that spoke volumes to me about how close our class really was, no bull.
18. Favorite memory of your Senior Year?
EUROPE '06! Performing the Haydn mass in St. Marx Cathedral, Soloing in a town hall outside Budapest, touring Vienna, and hearing things like "Jayme, look! LOOK AT ME! Look, I'm a condom... I'm a condom... GET IT?"
19. What were you voted in your yearbook?
Class Flirt
20. What was your quote under your senior picture?
"Whether you think you can or you can't, you're right."
My mother's favorite saying.
21. Did you have a job your senior year?
Stop & Shop... I owe that job for giving me the same angry humor that Lewis Black got from rock music & the Nixon years.
22. Where did you go most often for lunch?:
Senior Year? The chorus room to rehearse my a cappella group because I was a sick, sick workaholic.
23. Have you gained weight since then?
30 lbs. And I couldn't be happier.
24. What did you do after graduation?
That summer was a quick blur. The next thing I remember is band camp at Syracuse.
25. Who was your crush?
Loaded Question of the Night. I crushed on about 200 girls in high school. If you think you're one of them... you're probably right. Sorry to freak you out. I've got two worth naming... but for the same reasons they're worthy... I won't.
26. When did you graduate?
May 2001.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Crashes & Burns
We begin with a crash:
It happened last Sunday near Mesilla Dam. Sheriff deputies say a modified Volkswagen off-roader hit a washout and went off the side of a levy, that the driver died after being thrown 50 feet from the vehicle; the passenger was hospitalized. Deputies say neither was wearing a seatbelt. They later determined the driver had been drinking.
Neighbors told me on Monday it was an accident begging to happen since groups of trespassers come onto this federally-owned private property often to drag race (as they say the driver was doing before he died). Neighbors say they've found used condoms, beer bottles, and bullet holes in their homes courtesy of these trespassers.
As soon as I reported all of this, the feedback gates were thrust open. I'll share with you one email which captures the general essence:
"Your report on the Mesilla Dam off-road accident was a real eye opener. Apparently the news you want to report is shocking and disconcerting news. It is obviously not intended to be correct or compassionate. Although I did not know [the driver] very well, I did know that he was a caring husband, loving father and successful business owner. Not the drunken, gun-toting maniac he was made out to be on your broadcast. I can only hope his two boys will not ever hear the nastiness that was the kvia coverage of their father's tragic death.
I was also impressed by the way your news team and [one neighbor I interviewed] were able to quickly determine that any off-road enthusiast could easily be catagorized with gangbangers and drunken teenagers. We should warn everyone in the Borderland with a four-wheel drive, motorcycle or ATV 'don't have a tragic accient on a Sunday afternoon when the news is slow or we will drag you through the dirt like you wouldn't believe, we don't care if you are an experienced, championship-winning off-road racer, father and business owner. We have got to make this story gritty.'
But I understand, it's just local news. It doesn't have to be concise, just shocking. Twist the words around, make it sound good. That is what's important, really.
ABC-7, where news comes first, and the truth is a distant second."
My dad asked me what I took away from that email.
I replied, "Only a strong reminder of how quickly a journalist's credibility can be stripped away IF (s)he generalizes or distorts facts and/or fails to attribute them."
I can honestly say if the deceased driver had been my relative, I still would not have changed a word. I wish I had time to try for a comment from the family. But time allowed only for facts, and I didn't want to spare the public what this man allegedly did. Several emailers asked me to think about the driver's family. I wish the driver had. I think of myself as a compassionate journalist... but I am not an obit writer. Sometimes the truth hurts. But denial and suppression only delay the process, in my humble opinion.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Burns. As in the burns on my arms, upper chest and face. I got them playing frisbee. I have not played frisbee in decades. I'm so glad I have active friends. (Mom, I swear I put on SPF 15 though I admit, I failed to reapply.) (Kids, reapply your sunscreen. The sun is not fucking around anymore. If you don't reapply, don't bother applying)
Frisbee was the end of a phenomenal weekend complete with an El Paso Diablos baseball game in the company skybox, an awesome karaoke bar (no, I didn't sing... but I'm going back and that machine better have plenty of Billy Joel), and a serene outdoor cafe breakfast (conversation is never lacking at a table of 6 journalists). I should also point out that 3 stations were represented at this breakfast table. I can only hope that competitors get along as well in my future cities as we do here in El Paso. I don't take it for granted.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It's now midnight. 4 days til I'm out of here.
I've taken ONE day off since January 18th. And I spent that day-off signing 783 legal papers, building furniture, moving in the rest of my shit and cleaning my ex-apartment.
This vacation is not going to be "cool" or "nice." It's essential to my survival. Plus, I've been itching to test my newest theory that the cure for Type I Diabetes lies inside of a Fenway Frank. Sure... enough of them could CAUSE Type II, but I'm not really that hungry.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'll end with a familiar plea... send me blog topics or questions about... anything. I'd love this blog to be more interactive. So start deciding what random crap I ramble about.
Until next time, I'm
JaRube?
-30-
It happened last Sunday near Mesilla Dam. Sheriff deputies say a modified Volkswagen off-roader hit a washout and went off the side of a levy, that the driver died after being thrown 50 feet from the vehicle; the passenger was hospitalized. Deputies say neither was wearing a seatbelt. They later determined the driver had been drinking.
Neighbors told me on Monday it was an accident begging to happen since groups of trespassers come onto this federally-owned private property often to drag race (as they say the driver was doing before he died). Neighbors say they've found used condoms, beer bottles, and bullet holes in their homes courtesy of these trespassers.
As soon as I reported all of this, the feedback gates were thrust open. I'll share with you one email which captures the general essence:
"Your report on the Mesilla Dam off-road accident was a real eye opener. Apparently the news you want to report is shocking and disconcerting news. It is obviously not intended to be correct or compassionate. Although I did not know [the driver] very well, I did know that he was a caring husband, loving father and successful business owner. Not the drunken, gun-toting maniac he was made out to be on your broadcast. I can only hope his two boys will not ever hear the nastiness that was the kvia coverage of their father's tragic death.
I was also impressed by the way your news team and [one neighbor I interviewed] were able to quickly determine that any off-road enthusiast could easily be catagorized with gangbangers and drunken teenagers. We should warn everyone in the Borderland with a four-wheel drive, motorcycle or ATV 'don't have a tragic accient on a Sunday afternoon when the news is slow or we will drag you through the dirt like you wouldn't believe, we don't care if you are an experienced, championship-winning off-road racer, father and business owner. We have got to make this story gritty.'
But I understand, it's just local news. It doesn't have to be concise, just shocking. Twist the words around, make it sound good. That is what's important, really.
ABC-7, where news comes first, and the truth is a distant second."
My dad asked me what I took away from that email.
I replied, "Only a strong reminder of how quickly a journalist's credibility can be stripped away IF (s)he generalizes or distorts facts and/or fails to attribute them."
I can honestly say if the deceased driver had been my relative, I still would not have changed a word. I wish I had time to try for a comment from the family. But time allowed only for facts, and I didn't want to spare the public what this man allegedly did. Several emailers asked me to think about the driver's family. I wish the driver had. I think of myself as a compassionate journalist... but I am not an obit writer. Sometimes the truth hurts. But denial and suppression only delay the process, in my humble opinion.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Burns. As in the burns on my arms, upper chest and face. I got them playing frisbee. I have not played frisbee in decades. I'm so glad I have active friends. (Mom, I swear I put on SPF 15 though I admit, I failed to reapply.) (Kids, reapply your sunscreen. The sun is not fucking around anymore. If you don't reapply, don't bother applying)
Frisbee was the end of a phenomenal weekend complete with an El Paso Diablos baseball game in the company skybox, an awesome karaoke bar (no, I didn't sing... but I'm going back and that machine better have plenty of Billy Joel), and a serene outdoor cafe breakfast (conversation is never lacking at a table of 6 journalists). I should also point out that 3 stations were represented at this breakfast table. I can only hope that competitors get along as well in my future cities as we do here in El Paso. I don't take it for granted.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It's now midnight. 4 days til I'm out of here.
I've taken ONE day off since January 18th. And I spent that day-off signing 783 legal papers, building furniture, moving in the rest of my shit and cleaning my ex-apartment.
This vacation is not going to be "cool" or "nice." It's essential to my survival. Plus, I've been itching to test my newest theory that the cure for Type I Diabetes lies inside of a Fenway Frank. Sure... enough of them could CAUSE Type II, but I'm not really that hungry.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'll end with a familiar plea... send me blog topics or questions about... anything. I'd love this blog to be more interactive. So start deciding what random crap I ramble about.
Until next time, I'm
JaRube?
-30-
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
My Brush with Death, and Other Assorted Items
So there I was... at Mesilla Dam, walking feet from our live truck calling in script when I froze.
Sitting 2 feet in front of me was a 3 1/2 foot rattlesnake. Luckily I did a story two weeks on what to do when you see a rattlesnake. I hung up the phone, and started backing away slowly. Of course the second I did that, it started rattling and well... so did I!
So I turned my back to it and walked briskly towards the truck, which only made the snake feel like uncoiling upwards and doing his little snakey "My best defense is to look like I could kill you" thingy. Thankfully, it was scared (which I knew, but wasn't thinking much of), did its little dance right where it was and then left the roadway, back to its hole... I could hear it rattling for another 4 minutes... maybe it was loud. Maybe I was paranoid.
Then it was time for my liveshot... next to the goddamn riverbank. I was not in the right frame of mind.
Me: Whoa shit, what is that?
Tom: Jayme, that's a beetle.
Me: Oh... well what is THAT?
Tom: Jayme, that's a fireant.
Me: TOM! There's a 6-foot tall black thingy staring right at me.
Tom: Jayme, that's the camera.
I would take 200 feet of snow over 3 1/2 feet of snake any day of the week.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I went to a Southwestern carnival last weekend (8/12).
(TWO POINTS FOR SOLID TRANSITION)
No seriously, I've been meaning to write about last weekend ever since I came home Monday morning.
FRIDAY: VISITORS FROM CUSE! Lil Bro 2.0, DA & Jenn Pontier chilled out for an incredibly zen evening... southwest italian @ Carino's followed by 6 hours of cribbage & poker, coltrane and davis in the background and Crown Royal on the rocks. Unbelievable. Especially since Derrick was so apathetic, he'd go all in with 3-5 off-suit and boat the river. Derrick, in some states, it's legal to shoot you in the face for that. And we were only 40 miles from one of them.
SATURDAY: IHOP with the visitors. Some of the most insanely random conversation I've had in some time. It reminded me how badly I truly need old friends around me. You 3 should know that your company last weekend recharged me in a way only Orangemen can these days. Thanks.
SATURDAY NIGHT: VAMANOS A LA FIESTA! Max, BoomBoom, Luke, Martin & I went to Clint, TX for the San Lorenzo Festival (I later googled San Lorenzo and found out he was canonized in 1987, a Filipino martyr wrongly accused of murder... maybe I'm missing something). Now I've never done acid. But I think I started understanding the sensation when I was standing just outside a church listening to people chant and praying to a statue of Jesus Christ w/ San Lorenzo bowing behind, with chile sauce on my tongue, a beer in my hand, Spanish-country line dancing music behind me and the sound of glass breaking from a carnival game off to my left where you throw rocks at bottles to win more beer. I challenged myself to make sense of it all without passing out. I couldn't. So I ignored the people praying and everything else smoothly fell into place. I guess I couldn't get over the fact that people were praying to God when they could be throwing rocks and winning beer. I swear, it's the greatest game ever. I'm not sure if 12-year-olds should be allowed to play, but I watched at least 2 pre-teens win. My buddy, Max was so sick at it... some guy actually paid for him to play. Max was contracted to win this guy free beer. That's what I call community-building. Finally, I bought a shirt that said "I'm with stupid" and the arrow pointing up, only because when I made a joke about how I'd buy a shirt like that, the vendor, a 75-year-old Mexican version of one of the "BRILLIANT" Guinness brothers, said "We can do that!" in a way that made us all crack up. He called my bluff. I was pot-committed. And it was $8. We took some fun pictures with it.
I did not have the shirt by night's end. I did not lose it. I gave it away. I will not tell you where, to whom, or how, because secrets are fun... and sometimes necessary.
So that was HALF of my Saturday night. After the carnival, Max & I went to the 915, my favorite place on earth to play billiards that's still open (and someday I will burn Dunkin Donuts to the ground and rebuild Chaulkie's... oh God, then my hometown will only have 4387 Dunkies' left). I knew it'd be a fun night of pool because there'd been musical-silence since we walked in. But the very SECOND Max lifted the rack and I cocked my cue, a bell sounded. A Hell's Bell, if you will. Pure magic.
On our 14th game, we get a call from a coworker telling us to come over to her man's new club. Sounds great. But picture this. This club is full of pinstripes & silk. Silver, blue, white, black. Max and I are dressed for the San Lorenzo Festival in Clint, TX. We look like a couple 7th-year seniors crashed a JCPenny back-to-school shoot. Now I'm still not cool, so Max had to explain to me that if we go to this club looking like we do, people will know we're the shit because you have to know SOMEONE to get in to the OC (Blu) looking like Boy Meets World (Me). We went and had an incredible time. I plan to go back more than once. But I'll wear a real shirt. Once was fun. But sometimes, you have to be a big boy.
SUNDAY: Woke up at noon. Called Ezra. We got the tickets. If you're going to the Rolling Stones & DMB on October 20th, I'll see you there. I'll need binoculars. Or maybe I'll just bump into you in the parking lot after. But I'll see you. Now why are the Stones and DMB performing in the same concert? The only explanation that makes sense to me is that someone stole my journal, read it and thought "damn, that'd be pretty sweet." Two bands I've never seen. One night. Now, I'm holding my breath on the Stones since McJagger just had to sit out a Euro-show last week due to strained vocal cords (who saw THAT coming?). But here's to hoping. The rest of the day was food shopping, dinner at Fuddruckers which turned into a 3-hour talk about politics, education and religion (it's nice to have friends as intense as me) and more pool at Lloyd's, my friends' unofficial Sunday night watering hole.
To top off the whole thing, an incredible letter from BBLS. Can't wait to see you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wow, I wrote a lot. I'm still setting up Word on my new Mac, and can't write in my journal right now... so I guess you blog-stalkers (or blockers) can benefit from my pent up energy.
Update on current events:
8/21 - Drop off suit pants for hem before coz's wedding & Don't get bit by rattlesnake.
9/1 - BACK TO MASSACHUSETTS!!!!
9/3 - Joyzee for coz's wedding
9/6 - BACK TO FENWAY!!!!
workworkworkworkworkworkworkwork
10/6 - JAYME IN THE CUSE, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!
10/20 - Stones & DMB
It's nice to have things to look forward to. That's one aspect of my life I've kind of left charging in the closet since Mom came to visit in June. See y'all soon.
praying for sun,
JaRube
Sitting 2 feet in front of me was a 3 1/2 foot rattlesnake. Luckily I did a story two weeks on what to do when you see a rattlesnake. I hung up the phone, and started backing away slowly. Of course the second I did that, it started rattling and well... so did I!
So I turned my back to it and walked briskly towards the truck, which only made the snake feel like uncoiling upwards and doing his little snakey "My best defense is to look like I could kill you" thingy. Thankfully, it was scared (which I knew, but wasn't thinking much of), did its little dance right where it was and then left the roadway, back to its hole... I could hear it rattling for another 4 minutes... maybe it was loud. Maybe I was paranoid.
Then it was time for my liveshot... next to the goddamn riverbank. I was not in the right frame of mind.
Me: Whoa shit, what is that?
Tom: Jayme, that's a beetle.
Me: Oh... well what is THAT?
Tom: Jayme, that's a fireant.
Me: TOM! There's a 6-foot tall black thingy staring right at me.
Tom: Jayme, that's the camera.
I would take 200 feet of snow over 3 1/2 feet of snake any day of the week.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I went to a Southwestern carnival last weekend (8/12).
(TWO POINTS FOR SOLID TRANSITION)
No seriously, I've been meaning to write about last weekend ever since I came home Monday morning.
FRIDAY: VISITORS FROM CUSE! Lil Bro 2.0, DA & Jenn Pontier chilled out for an incredibly zen evening... southwest italian @ Carino's followed by 6 hours of cribbage & poker, coltrane and davis in the background and Crown Royal on the rocks. Unbelievable. Especially since Derrick was so apathetic, he'd go all in with 3-5 off-suit and boat the river. Derrick, in some states, it's legal to shoot you in the face for that. And we were only 40 miles from one of them.
SATURDAY: IHOP with the visitors. Some of the most insanely random conversation I've had in some time. It reminded me how badly I truly need old friends around me. You 3 should know that your company last weekend recharged me in a way only Orangemen can these days. Thanks.
SATURDAY NIGHT: VAMANOS A LA FIESTA! Max, BoomBoom, Luke, Martin & I went to Clint, TX for the San Lorenzo Festival (I later googled San Lorenzo and found out he was canonized in 1987, a Filipino martyr wrongly accused of murder... maybe I'm missing something). Now I've never done acid. But I think I started understanding the sensation when I was standing just outside a church listening to people chant and praying to a statue of Jesus Christ w/ San Lorenzo bowing behind, with chile sauce on my tongue, a beer in my hand, Spanish-country line dancing music behind me and the sound of glass breaking from a carnival game off to my left where you throw rocks at bottles to win more beer. I challenged myself to make sense of it all without passing out. I couldn't. So I ignored the people praying and everything else smoothly fell into place. I guess I couldn't get over the fact that people were praying to God when they could be throwing rocks and winning beer. I swear, it's the greatest game ever. I'm not sure if 12-year-olds should be allowed to play, but I watched at least 2 pre-teens win. My buddy, Max was so sick at it... some guy actually paid for him to play. Max was contracted to win this guy free beer. That's what I call community-building. Finally, I bought a shirt that said "I'm with stupid" and the arrow pointing up, only because when I made a joke about how I'd buy a shirt like that, the vendor, a 75-year-old Mexican version of one of the "BRILLIANT" Guinness brothers, said "We can do that!" in a way that made us all crack up. He called my bluff. I was pot-committed. And it was $8. We took some fun pictures with it.
I did not have the shirt by night's end. I did not lose it. I gave it away. I will not tell you where, to whom, or how, because secrets are fun... and sometimes necessary.
So that was HALF of my Saturday night. After the carnival, Max & I went to the 915, my favorite place on earth to play billiards that's still open (and someday I will burn Dunkin Donuts to the ground and rebuild Chaulkie's... oh God, then my hometown will only have 4387 Dunkies' left). I knew it'd be a fun night of pool because there'd been musical-silence since we walked in. But the very SECOND Max lifted the rack and I cocked my cue, a bell sounded. A Hell's Bell, if you will. Pure magic.
On our 14th game, we get a call from a coworker telling us to come over to her man's new club. Sounds great. But picture this. This club is full of pinstripes & silk. Silver, blue, white, black. Max and I are dressed for the San Lorenzo Festival in Clint, TX. We look like a couple 7th-year seniors crashed a JCPenny back-to-school shoot. Now I'm still not cool, so Max had to explain to me that if we go to this club looking like we do, people will know we're the shit because you have to know SOMEONE to get in to the OC (Blu) looking like Boy Meets World (Me). We went and had an incredible time. I plan to go back more than once. But I'll wear a real shirt. Once was fun. But sometimes, you have to be a big boy.
SUNDAY: Woke up at noon. Called Ezra. We got the tickets. If you're going to the Rolling Stones & DMB on October 20th, I'll see you there. I'll need binoculars. Or maybe I'll just bump into you in the parking lot after. But I'll see you. Now why are the Stones and DMB performing in the same concert? The only explanation that makes sense to me is that someone stole my journal, read it and thought "damn, that'd be pretty sweet." Two bands I've never seen. One night. Now, I'm holding my breath on the Stones since McJagger just had to sit out a Euro-show last week due to strained vocal cords (who saw THAT coming?). But here's to hoping. The rest of the day was food shopping, dinner at Fuddruckers which turned into a 3-hour talk about politics, education and religion (it's nice to have friends as intense as me) and more pool at Lloyd's, my friends' unofficial Sunday night watering hole.
To top off the whole thing, an incredible letter from BBLS. Can't wait to see you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wow, I wrote a lot. I'm still setting up Word on my new Mac, and can't write in my journal right now... so I guess you blog-stalkers (or blockers) can benefit from my pent up energy.
Update on current events:
8/21 - Drop off suit pants for hem before coz's wedding & Don't get bit by rattlesnake.
9/1 - BACK TO MASSACHUSETTS!!!!
9/3 - Joyzee for coz's wedding
9/6 - BACK TO FENWAY!!!!
workworkworkworkworkworkworkwork
10/6 - JAYME IN THE CUSE, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!
10/20 - Stones & DMB
It's nice to have things to look forward to. That's one aspect of my life I've kind of left charging in the closet since Mom came to visit in June. See y'all soon.
praying for sun,
JaRube
Thursday, August 3, 2006
Storm 2006
My fellow Northeasterners,
I shouldn't have to tell you about "Storm 2006." But since all cable news resources are tied up in the Middle East... you have no idea what I'm referring to, so let me catch you up.
"Storm 2006" brought up to 15 inches of rain to Dona Ana & El Paso counties yesterday. If 15 inches sounds like nothing to you, remember northeast soil can absorb water. Our land cannot. It's like pouring tons of water on a kitchen floor. It literally hits the ground running. Running over arroyos (traditional earthen paths for rain run-off) and right into homes & businesses.
Images you "can see behind me" yesterday include people brooming water out of their businesses (it made no difference), sections of highway frontage roads washed away, a firetruck stuck in a sinkhole, residents being rescued via bulldozer from otherwise cutoff neighborhoods, factory-sized dumpsters floating through downtown intersections and 2 telephone poles about to fall into a newly created ravine.
My photojournalist, Tom and I visited 4 colonias (population centers that lack sufficient infrastructure), cranking out 15 live shots between 11 a.m. and 10:30 p.m. If you're a fellow ABC7er... you guys rocked yesterday from what I saw. Putting on 14 hours of near-scriptless breaking news WITHOUT A COMMERCIAL BREAK is no simple task. A special thanks to anyone who took the time to answer my 1,528 phone calls.
Thankfully, no one died yesterday. Not one. That banks on "miraculous" considering this area has not seen a storm like this in more than 50 years. Plus, police say 100s of people refused to leave their homes even though their streets were becoming increasingly impassable or... in the case of one village I visited, two gas lines opened up on both ends of the street.
Storm 2006 would have rushed right onto the national front pages... if the Rio Grande spilled over. The banks were at maximum capacity for roughly 50 miles. But they fortunately held and even slightly receeded by 5pm before those waters could have their way with any old shop or home within flowing distance.
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My adopting hometown, Las Cruces NM was unaffected. We received an average 4" of badly-needed rainfall. Plus, my condo is on the 2nd floor, so if you ever hear of insane precipatation in Cruces, my place is safe.
Hope all is well back east. Wear sunscreen. Drink water. And if someone offers you a Crunchwrap Supreme, tell them it's spicy and grilled so you're good to go.... to Las Cruces so I can feed you some real damn Mexican food.
I'm Jarube. Back to y'all...
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Developing Story...
I thought I'd blog again for the faithful... so I'm going to create a survey and answer it to catch all y'all up on the ongoing story, Me. Feel free to copy this survey, answer it, and tell me you did so:
What's the most life-changing thing that's happened in the last month: I bought a condominium.
What have you given up, only to start again: Working out
What did you say in the last month that you never thought you'd say: "I gotta move back east."
What's been keeping you up at night? Getting used to the sound of the A/C. It sounds like a cow got stuck in a propeller.
Any new TV shows? Saved. Finally, a decent TV writer has climbed out of his bomb shelter.
Any new books? Nothing's Sacred, by Lewis Black... still working on Between Worlds, by NM Governor Bill Richardson
Have you knocked anything off your list of 200 things to do before you die lately? Yeah, I finally saw Goodfellas 2 weeks ago with my mom. I found out Mom really loves mafia movies. I recommended she see A Bronx Tale.
Are you in love? No
Any potentials? I don't know... Damn, getting personal, are we? Back off, Survey.
You like her, don't you? I said shut up. What the hell is wrong with you? Next question...
What do you like most about your job? Helping people care about their surroundings.
What do you dislike the most? I think I've developed a slight tick triggered by the sound of my work cell.
What's the most enjoyable time of your day? 10p.m. Walking across my gorgeous complex to get the mail when everything's quiet and it's 87 degrees outside.
Your next big goal: Finally learn that damn guitar.
Your next big trip: Home in September for my cousin's wedding and my first Sox game since LAST MAY.
Do you have a disease? Yes
If so, why don't you support our troops? WHAT?
I mean... If so, how's that going? Very well, thank you. My last "report card" in February says I'm a posterchild for health management, so there's absolutely no need to worry.
Finally...
Based on your last year's experience, what advice would you have for someone one year younger than you? Call me. ;)
No seriously...
Oh, uh. 3 things: 1) Live alone... it's the best way to get to know yourself. 2) Nothing cuts your sodium, cholesterol and fat intake like a home-cooked meal. 3) Always attribute.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Only the Beginning...
Here I am... let's see if this proves to be any fun. I don't want to distract anyone away from my away messages (a.k.a. pride) and my profile (a.k.a. joy). Maybe I'll just use My Myspace Space as a storage facility for some of my finer prides and joys.
For now, I'll have you know I bought a guitar today... I have officially named it "Zia" after the Native American symbol for the sun embraced as the official emblem of my current state of residence, the Land of Enchantment. I'm gonna play it til my fingers bleed, which is fine, 'cause that happens regularly now as it is.
If you have any suggestions for My Myspace Space--and you do-- please contact me via AIM, LPBrew82.
Have a wonderful Sunday, or whatever day it is you happen to fall upon this.
JMe
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