Grand Central Phenomenon

I was told a few weeks ago that I had finally gotten the complete New Yorker experience. So, what was this culminating event that pushed me into knowing the greatest city in the world? Well, it was getting caught in a Grand Central back up of course. That's right, on a fateful Saturday afternoon electrical wires blew out near Greenwich, NY leaving GCT without any trains in or out. It's 4PM when I find out the wonderful news. And, at this point I really thought it was wonderful news because this particular Saturday was the day of the consolation World Cup game. Grand Central being so user friendly had a television set up for all to watch the game. So with this delay I was going to catch the whole second half of the game. I was grateful for the delay for about 45 minutes. What can be better than a huge group of people hanging out enjoying the beautiful game together? Little did I know this was just the beginning. It's now 5PM, the game long over (an exciting match resulting in a German 3-2 win over Uruguay) I'm sitting on the floor against a wall of the Main Concourse. About an hour into the fiasco I begin to notice the first step of what I've come to call the Grand Central Phenomenon.

This first step is actually not much of a phenomenon in itself. It's actually what anyone would naturally expect from people being so inconvenienced. I began to see a commonality among the many faces--annoyed, disgruntled, even angry expressions. Accompanied by exasperated comments all sounding pretty much like "Of course this would happen today, when I have to be back for (insert important thing here)." As the minutes and hours progressed though, the important things began to take on broader and broader definitions. 45 minutes in, these things were "picking up my children from the babysitter" or "making a business meeting." These statements said in a disappointed or upset voice. After 2 hours of waiting, important things turned into "I was supposed to wash my favorite shirt today!" and "Man, I needed to pick up apples when I got home, now it's too late."

Apart from these perpetual complainers an amazing thing began to happen. At 6PM, two hours into the terminal crash, I saw people starting to talk to complete strangers. Boredom drives people to strange things. And instead of the people banning together in anger storming the GCT employees, they began to calm down and take things in stride, myself included. The inconvenience turned into a great way to meet new people. And I discovered New York is actually the melting pot (or is it a tossed salad now?) they say it is. I met a student from Duke University (as hard as it was to overcome that rivalry) traveling to New Haven, a Brussels native visiting the city for the weekend, a Londoner who had moved to the states recently, two German students teaching in the US, and a newly-wed couple with a baby on the way.

It's 9PM and I'm finally en route, sitting on a packed train, and I'm amazed at this phenomenon at Grand Central. Instead of people becoming increasingly frustrated and hostile, silences and walls were broken and people became kinder and friendlier. Seats were given up, life stories were told, and real interest was taken in others. Why do bad things happen? I don't know, but if nothing better comes of them, people really do come together because of them.

20 things in 20 years

As my 21st birthday approaches I've been considering how much (or little) I've learned since I've been on this earth. Finding that I had at least a few remarks to make I thought I would impart my wisdom to future generations of 20 year olds as well as remind the middle aged reader that those mid-life crises are totally worth it, cause these first 20 years rock! Now before you get ahead of yourself, I have managed to learn more than 20 things in my life. Some things didn't make the list, like soccer is better than baseball no matter what any American might say. Or, that simple math might be the only mathematical studying that's actually useful, and other such gems. But, I think I've managed to find 20 things worth reading if not even considering. So here it goes...

1. Bankrupt yourself traveling, it's worth it

2. It's impossible to mess up your life permanently

3. Gunslingers and hippies both have something to say, so listen, you're your own version of an extremist in some way

4. Listen to your parents until you can prove they are wrong

5. Do what you love...always

6. Plans aren't necessary

7. Apple products are the closest mankind will get to perfection and Pixar is the closest we will get to a perfect story

8. Accidents are the best career starters I've ever encountered

9. It's much harder to hurt yourself than your paranoid parents tell you

10. Learning courtesy was one of the most helpful things in my life (even though my 8 year old self still hates the thought of sharing my things)

11. Daydreaming is an important part of our school system's education

12. Ask questions more than you ever thought necessary

13. Children of the technology age, don't forget to read...I would suggest even holding an actual book (with real page turning action!)

14. Once you've reached a certain age it's ok to talk to strangers

15. Face your fears, if you are not freed from them, at least you learn courage in the process

16. Only perfect love never ends

17. Find an adventure every day

18. Don't leave your morals and beliefs, but never let your morals and beliefs stop you from engaging with anyone

19. Time and sweat are the currency of competition, determination is the key to these riches

20. Know what drives you and never compromise it

So Long Partner

Today I went to see the conclusion of the Toy Story trilogy, the exciting end to 15 years of work. To say the least, I was a little nervous about it. I mean this is like The Godfather of animation, and we all know how well the third try went the first time around. So I'm thinking to myself, Pixar is testing fate, they are staring all of cinema history in the face, attempting the never before perfect trifecta. But then again, who can say no a couple of irresistible toys that bring childhood rushing back to a viewer of any age--that's right, no one. So with the thoughts of seeing Toy Story for the first time (way back in 1995 when the iPod was half a decade away and Pixar was the new kid on the block), I entered the movie theater hoping for the best.

In true Pixar fashion, the film has sparks of brilliant humor, enough for a 7 year old to share with his father. The story line takes the viewer from heights beyond infinity to depths so low they end in fire, and through it all there is steadfast friendship and loyalty on display. I don't want to give it all away to the unfortunate few who have yet to see it, but I can't help share a little. After watching two hours of a comedy, thriller, action, love flick it took me until the final scenes to see the perfection of the third installment. Pixar had it from the start, and they incorporated me in it since the beginning. The Toy Story ensemble is about growing up and the hardships of sticking together through the thick and thin of adolescence. It brings it perfectly to an understanding clear enough for the 6 year old Andy I was back in '95 and nuanced enough for the 20 year old critic I am today. Damned if they didn't pull it off. The perfect trilogy, the perfect ending to a monumental story. The impossible has a face and it's digitized plastic with a heart that beats truer and more loyal than Clemenza himself. As one of millions of Andy's out there, I'm saying thanks Toy Story for a long childhood of fun and memories; for teaching me that growing up is part of life; and for showing me that even though we move on we don't lose what we always had. So here it is, one final time. So long Buzz, so long Woody, so long partners.

Boring, Bored, or None of the Above

I am a person, believe it or not, who has, in instances, been accused of being boring. My staid exterior, my introverted personality, and my overall behind-the-scenes attitude lends itself to that I guess. I'm a person who appreciates thoughtfulness and tradition, and some might say I can be predictable. Often this assumption of a boring attitude translates itself into a passionless, emotionless one. The reality is I am deeply moved by the responsibilities of morality, ethics, being an example, and fulfilling my desires and dreams. I guess that's a boring answer, which doesn't much prove my point; so let me put it in a more simple example. I'm more passionate about literature than some people are about their very lives. And the best part--books aren't the thing I'm most passionate about. But since I've started on this path I might as well continue down the road and see if it explains anything.

Feeling so deeply is hard to keep up--no matter what it is that drives that passion. This summer I'm lucky enough to be immersed in the study of literature all the way from the early 20th C to present day, and still there are days where I find myself wanting to just sit and watch World Cup games all day. A day every now and then, sure I understand that, but when it persists I've got to ask--am I really getting bored with this? Don't get me wrong, I'm having a great time, tons of fun. But sometimes it feels like the fire is out.

With the sun shining outside and the temperature rising, I wonder if I lose myself, become complacent and forget to add fuel to the flame. And when that's gone, you can enjoy yourself all you want, but there's still a spot of cold darkness the sun can't reach. And when boredom sets in, the rest of your life burns out pretty swiftly leaving you to sit in a pile of your own ash blown, indifferently, by the wind's desire. And so it is, sometimes, where I am caught at the brink of the charcoal grey edges of life, before the charred smell of my dreams, like smelling salts, wake me out of my self-indulgent slothfulness. Just what I needed, before a blast of cold air blows out the last ember and throws me over the edge. Now the joy of collecting the grass, leaves and sticks to build from the ashes anew. Smoldering smoke, then a burst of yellow flame and the passion is reborn. I find again not just the fun, but the joy and excitement of building a life of passion. Heaving logs now, felling trees to find more fuel, insatiable a bonfire storms in front of me; towering, swirling oranges and reds, heat that stings my skin. I've created this, I've lived this; needing more, wanting more, growing larger, wilder.

Am I boring? Am I bored? I choose none of the above. I've a passion, rains and storms may dampen the flame, but the embers never die. I am always building always growing. I am creating a wildfire, and I am ready to let it run loose. It's been hidden, but I will open it to the world, I will let it engulf the surrounding forest. So pick up your tinder, your sticks and logs. Get ready and find the freedom and courage to throw your lives to the fire, to add your storied flames to the passion's unquenchable madness.

Dinner?

Well I've started to get into the swing of things out here in lovely New Haven. I'm even getting the hang of my commute to New York pretty well. It's strange to feel like this is the norm for my summer now, living on my own having two jobs that are on the road to what people do for careers. Although nothing is too normal about it, especially the schedules I need to keep. Talk about some busy days.

When I get to stay in New Haven it's really not all that bad. I get to make my own hours (so, yes, my day doesn't start until 10 or 11). I get to work from home a lot of the time. And it takes a 10 minute walk to get to all the libraries I work at. Really 'living the dream' as they say. But then there are those wondrous days where I get to work in the Big Apple, birthplace of the American Dream. Who knew you'd have to wake up at 5:30 to catch up with that dream. That's right, it's up at 5:30 to get showered and ready to catch a bus to the train station. Once that ordeal is over I get to sit for another hour and a half on the train into Grand Central Station (of course continuing my never-ending pile of reading). Then its a 15 block walk to the workplace. Finally I've made it in just before 10 and about four hours after I started getting ready for work. Then it starts to get better. I'm reading manuscripts, organizing files, giving reviews (and yes I did say better). Let's not forget the lunch break I get, a gracious hour, to buy my hugely overpriced sub. 6 o'clock rolls around and I get to do all of the planning in reverse now. 15 block walk, hour and a half train ride, bus back to campus, 5 block walk back home, then I'm done--but not really. Because after a long day of work and walking I'm hungry. And so the worst of it all comes at around 9 at night; time to make dinner. Who knew needing to sustain yourself would be such a hassle. So a half an hour later I can finally sit and eat. By 10 I've finished dinner and the dishes and can finally sit in my room and relax, 16 hours after I started. Take another two hours to do some writing and reading, and it's to bed because in less than 6 hours it all starts again. Who knew living the dream and the American Dream at the same time would be so time consuming.

Room Without a View

So it's been a week since I moved into my New Haven apartment and things are starting to pick up. The room I'm staying in has two windows in it. One looks out onto a roof and deserted parking lot while the other one has a great view of my neighbor's brick wall. Even without the view from home, I'm finding New Haven to have some beautiful scenery. Of course there is the Yale campus in all its glory. High, stone and marble built buildings towering around green quads. Old discolored towers with ivy crawling up its walls. These are mammoth buildings (which includes the second largest gym in the world!). It's an odd and wonderful thing to see a normal city street with shops and restaurants that have these old giants looming in the distance. But let's not forget the beauty of the city without the school. One of my favorite places is the New Haven green. With some history of its own, New Haven has three churches planted right next to each other on a large green smattered with trees, benches, and walkways. These churches have been around for literally hundreds of years and add to the scene providing a place where the manmade and natural beauty of the city fuse together into an area where any and all take advantage of its welcoming presence.

Doing my research I'm stuck in a reading room that is underground giving me a view of a few stone sculptures. After spending six hours straight in a place like this, I'm really enjoying the view from the street. I hope I never forget to keep looking around.

Moving Day

Well after much planning, and even more waiting, I'm finally sitting in an air conditioned New Haven apartment three blocks away from Yale's campus. From start to finish it took about two days to get where I am now. I woke up yesterday at 5am, about 7 hours earlier than I had been that whole week, and started packing up the car for departure. 6am rolls around and my parents and I start off on our 6 hour trip. We took two cars up, not knowing whether I would keep one here or not; so naturally I was left alone, which isn't so bad for a couple hours. By the fourth or fifth hour I'm holding full blown conversations with myself trying to keep myself awake. By noon (I'd be waking up around now usually) we get into New Haven to discover I wasn't the only one moving that day. It was the seniors last day on campus, which means 1300 students were trying to get out of the city just around the time I was trying to get in. After driving around for 20 minutes looking for a parking space, we finally found one. I shoved a fistful of dimes, one at a time, into the parking meter to get two hours and then we were in search of the apartment.

We visited my now temporary home and found it to be relatively clean (considering four male college students have spent the last year here) and in a great location. After brief deliberation it was settled that I would be moving in. The night went well from there, even into the next morning. Then the sun started to do its work, and the temperatures rose to 92 with not a cloud in sight. Living in the second floor of a house with no air conditioning when its 92 outside is one of the worst places I've ever been. I felt like I should've taken a shower ever 15 minutes; the rooms were at a place where it was uncomfortable to move and even breathe the air. In the midst of this I was given my first assignment, which could only be done in small increments considering my lack of focus. Instead I wandered around the city looking for grocery stores and a gym membership. It gets to be about 6pm and I can't take it any more, either I'm getting AC or I'm moving into the library. So I get into another (vacant) bedroom to find a window unit; I couldn't have been happier if I had found solid gold. Now to move it. First problem, undo six screws--check. Next, remove tape from all sides of window--check. Then, lift window unit and proceed to spill out half a gallon of water--check. (Side-step, clean up water spilled all over wood floor--check). Finally, carry unit into bedroom, install into window, screw into window sill, turn on, and find relief--check. So here I am, one full day down, and looking for tomorrow's new adventure.