A Violinist in the Metro

I don't own this... but it stopped me in my tracks.

A Violinist in the Metro.

A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule. A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk. A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.
The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats average $100. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?

Awesome. Go out and appreciate.

Percieved Reality?

Hello, Internet.

I'm seriously wondering if this blog has any audience whatsoever. It probably doesn't. I probably don't care either. I'm already having fun looking back at a few of these posts.

Anyways.....

Last night I saw the movie Inception. It really grabbed me, and I mean really. It got me thinking, as I often do, about the nature of perception and reality, and the fine line that is drawn between the two. I have always been very interested in studying altered states of the mind, dreams, and perception of reality. I have also had a few... unique experiences (which I won't get into specifics about in this blog) which have made this subject particularly interesting.

A question I often pose to myself is whether or not "reality" is constructed entirely by our perception. For example, if my sky is blue, your sky must also be blue. But, is our perception of the color blue actually quite different? To say that blue looks the same to me as it does to you would only be assuming that our perception of the world is the same. Perhaps each of us sees our own pallette of colors, so that we all may name the sky blue, but not necesarily see the same sky.



Could this be a reality in someone else's
percieved universe?



In altered states and in dreaming our minds are capable of constant, absolute creation. Which means that our brains are not limited by the boundraries set by normal life. But what if the world that we live in, or, better suited to this arguement, the world that I live in, is nothing more than a projection of our own perception? Is this life a "percieved reality"?

If we are to believe that our reality is 100% based on perception, what can we say about our own being?

Take for instance, a person on DMT. This compound is secreted when we dream, meaning that our dreams are, quite literally, a hallucinogenic experience or "trip". When a person is either naturally or artificially under the influence of this chemical, they are physically in one space, but their reality exists in another. The user is totally immersed in a "percieved reality" that is at once both made up of the user's abstract thought yet to them, perfectly real.
To accept the theory that our world is entirely made up of perception is to say that we ourselves actually exist in some alternate plane, where we are simply imagining our world. This may concide with some world religions whose dogmas are based on the notion of an alternate state of being and the existance of the soul as a seperate entity from the body.

Can perception be so strong that it can become the perciever's reality? Is there really any difference between the two?

These are only questions, and of course I am no one to answer them. What are your thoughts?

Well Hello There, Blog. Long Time No See.

Yes it’s been awhile. More than awhile. In fact, it’s been so awkwardly long that I know no one even reads this anymore. I guess I’m really just doing this for myself, I like looking back and laughing at all the ridiculous decisions I’ve made.

So it’s been a crazy summer and early fall, and while I won’t get into specifics, let’s just say I’ve experienced a few crazy binges and switches of employment. Life still has me living at home, but I’ve been dumped off in different social circles and employment, and many opportunities lie ahead.

So now, an update.

I lost my last job for some pretty unusual reasons, and my cousin took me in as a Server at a Mexican Grille in Malden for late august and September. The work was mundane and my coworkers were hit or miss: either awesome people with great attitudes or complete downers who sucked the life out of me.
I’ve learned a few things from working at the restaurant. Mostly everything I’ve learned, however, can be categorized under the heading, “Never work in food service again.”

I’m pretty sure that industry is a thing of the past for me.

I’ve more recently found stable employment in Andover at a small Inn… this place is pretty neat. It’s a small time hotel with an upscale feel and high end clientele. Mostly, I deal with people who have some sort of connection to the Phillips Academy, which, if you haven’t heard of it, is one of the oldest private boarding schools in the country.


There’s not much to say here about this job, it’s pretty par for the course as well as hospitality goes, I’m pretty sure at this point in my life any Front Desk position will be second nature to me, more so when the hotel only has a handful of rooms . I have a lot of downtime here, which is all at once awesome and yet a tad boring. I’d have to say it’s a lot easier to work here if I am run down and tired because the job runs at such a relaxed pace. This is handy since my shifts here usually begin at 7am… ugh. Frankly I haven’t really had to be up that early since high school, so that is the only challenge.



And now for the news.


I am working once again on a project with my good friend Camila, who has impeccable music taste and talent. We’ve worked together before, and it seems like we connect really well, both musically and in general.

This time around, we have a full-length album in the works. The album will be produced by a good friend of Camila’s and a new friend of mine, Cip of Split2nd Entertainment. I’m extremely excited about this project, and will probably be updating here about the details as the release gets closer. The album is mostly Keyboard based Progressive Rock with an Indie twist, with some experimental and electronic influences.


I’m really not able to say too much else about the project just yet, so keep your pants on. Not that you would have taken them off anyways.

 So that’s about it, I’ll be back on here in about a week.

In Which I Become a Vampire.

NO I'M NOT TURNING GOTH.

In fact I just bought a whole bunch of preppy suits from mens warehouse. A grey and a blue.

Rather this post bears witness to the beginning of my life as an overnight worker. I recently got a job at the Sheraton Boston Hotel.

The place is just downright gorgeous, and the job pays alot more than I'm used to. My coworkers are hillarious, and I'm having a grand old time.

Plus it's great to not be a bum again.

The only thing that has been difficult to adjust to has been the scheduling, which includes it's share of 11pm-7am shifts. These are difficult to adjust to, seeing as it throws off your sleep cycle like nobody's business. Coming home around 9:30am, going to sleep until 5, then getting up, having something to eat, and going to work to start the whole cycle over again.

This schedule sets my social life on a pecipice, but it's all right for now. I learned from working before that life is appreciated far more when isolated into small days off. This may seem depressing, but when you only have so much time off in a week, it makes you want to go out and seize it. Especially working graveyard shifts.

MOM! David's Blogging Again!!!

"Fortune rota volvitur: descendo minoratus; alter in altum tollitur; nimis exaltatus." Which means, in Latin, Fortune's wheel will turn and I descend. Another is lifted high, he is exalted. But the same poem goes on to say: "rex sedet in vertice, caveat ruinam! nam sub axe legimus Hecubam reginam." which also means, the other is lifted too high, let him fear ruin! for beneath the wheel is written Queen Hecubam.
Basically, you're sitting at the top and all of a sudden, someone comes over and knocks you on your ass.

Living with your parents after admitting to the ultimate failure that you couldn't have made it out on your own is probably one of the most demeaning experience that any person in their early 20s can endure.You used to invite a few friends over and have a nice evening with whomever you wanted. People would drop in to say hi. Now, you must prove your intent before leaving the house. "Who are you hanging out with?" "till when?" and "should I keep dinner on the stove?"

You used to come home late at night after work and cook something because you are hungry. Now, the parents want to go to bed at 9pm and if you DARE use the microwave you are disturbing their slumber.

All the while, the never ending job hunt looms ahead. You see, I had placed my prospective move out day to be May 1st. One of my good friends will be needing a roommate, and all seems to be in order. By this time I need to establish better credit, find a job and... well, long story short, reverse everything that living in the point did to my career.

The economy being what it is, so many people are out of work and competing for the same jobs I am applying for. Most of my competition for my skill level though, are older professionals with more experience, who didn't get FIRED from their last job.I was recently turned down by McDonalds. MCDONALDS! someone please tell me where else to turn when even McDonalds doesn't want you?

Ah well. Someone tell Queen Hecuba to spin that wheel again.

A Semi-Fond Farewell

So this is how it ends. My time on 35 Palmer Street comes to an abrupt halt, and I'm packing my things, and moving on.

It's not that I really want to leave. It's not that I want to live at home again. It's a change that may have been a long time coming... and obvious to some.

Don't get me wrong. I'm going to miss that apartment more than anything, and sure, it bothers me how quickly things change hands and get replaced, but I'm not here to dig for sympathy or make people wish it were different. I'm writing for myself, for closure, and for anyone who cares to listen.

Rewind to July 2009. I move in, and within weeks, everyone is getting along like we had all known each other for years. We were having some great times, making great memories. I thought I had found friends for life.

The months go by, and things deteriorated. Fast.

Enter January 2010, and the shift takes place. Suddenly, I lose my job and the person I had thought to be my life partner. Depressed and out of touch, I tried to search for solace in the people around me.

I then realized that the people I had met, for the most part, saw me as little more than a paycheck at the end of the month. Someone filling up a room. It got to the point that my personal property and space were violated on an almost daily basis. Things were broken, stolen, missing, or abused.

My room became a smoking zone, and I reduced myself to sleeping on the couch due to the stench and cold. I faced constant harassment about my financial situation. I was paying bills on time, but was treated like a homeless man sleeping on the couch. Mutual respect between me and certain people I lived with faded, and I began to realize that no one ever had my back, and everyone was ready to sell my spot to the highest bidder.

I was treated as though I did not have equal say in anything. I would kindly ask people not to do things and was laughed at. I couldn't win; I felt dejected.

Saturday, February 6th came around. Hanging out at a friend's house, I asked if he would mind if I slept on his couch instead of going home. I contemplated sleeping at my parents' house. Either way, I felt unwelcome in my own apartment. I felt as though I had no place to call home.

I eventually got back to the apartment, sick and wanting to go to bed, to find people blatantly disrespecting my property. A beer pong game was being played my mother's dining room table (which I always respectfully asked them to put a table cloth over, and there was no cloth this time), and when I asked someone to clean up their puke off the floor, I was told that they would take it up with my roommate, since "he lived there".

Something inside of me realized at that precise moment that no one ever saw me as an equal at 35 Palmer Street. I was not a roommate, a friend, or even a person worthy of being treated with decency. I was a monthly rent check for $60 more than everyone else, and for less respect.

And so I had to pack my bags. Sure I'm sad, who wouldn't be? I'll miss my time at 35 Palmer Street. I really don't think life will be the same for me ever again.

So I have to say goodbye. I wish things were different. I'm sorry they weren't. I'll miss all of you.

Life Updates! I'm Not Sober.

So I've pretty much been too lazy to post on this blog for a while but tonight, at 2:34 in the morning sipping on a margarita with snow falling outside, it seemed time for an update. An update that I will attempt to finish before the effects of the aforementioned margarita kicks in.

So last Wednesday, I was fired officially from my job. I really can't post about it here, the details of the termination, but lets just say i view it as a new lease on life. i'm looking at alot of new oppurtunities, all with much better pay then the job I held. Then again, I'm going to have to do some pretty crazy things to get money until then, but still.

The one thing standing in my way is the VERY end of the interview. You know, the part where you have to come out and say yes, I was fired. It's not an easy answer to wrap around employers' heads, and even if you have a fantastic interview, it's kind of like a bombshell at the end. Like a big let down. The whole time they're thinking "wow this kid is great!" and then OOPS he was actually fired. Never. Mind. And you KNOW for a fact that they aren't going to hire you when they say OH. Well. Thanks for um...your...honesty in that...

I also wanted to make a point. People say I'm not motivated anymore. well SHAME on you. I am broke and trying to live on my own without crying back home to mommy and daddy okay???? Okay. I wouldn't be going to job interviews if I wasn't motivated I would SELL MY BODY ON THE STREET CORNER OKAY. Because this is a good neighborhood for that. Except it's snowing, and that means that standing on street corners is not in the program.

Not in the program... my grandfather used to say that. He used to say that everything in life was "programmed" in life. For example, you eat a chicken dinner. You choke on a bone. You go to the emergency room to remove it. You may think "OH I shouldn't have eaten that so fast" but really it's already programmed into who you are. You were MEANT to choke on that chicken bone because you are a fast eater.

What. The. HELL am I talking about. So much for not writing this under the influence. I think I added too much Tequila. Did I mention I used a 1/4 of a bottle?

Tis The Season

So Christmas time is here, which means it's the perfect time to fight mall traffic, tackle old ladies to get the last megazord doll, and freeze our asses off.

It is also the perfect time of year when I get to tell everyone what I want for christmas! And so here it is, David Cooper's Official Holiday Wish List.

1. Checks, Gift Cards, and checks.

I'm REALLY strapped for cash most of the time since my credit card company decided to go and screw me up the asshole. And hey, tis the season where I should be getting gifts for others, just think of it as an investment. The more money you give me, the more likely I am to be able to get you something nice in the future. It's economics!

2. A New Zippo

Okay okay I lost my SECOND Zippo lighter...but how am I supposed to ruin my lungs in style without a replacement?

3. A Rug

And a nice one. Not some crappy throw rug, I want a nice comfortable rug that people wouldn't mind sitting on. The kind that's really cozy and all that...

4. Underwear and Socks

It embarasses me to say that yes, I have indeed reached that age where I'm starting to ask for undergarments as a gift and then truly mean it. But the less trips I have to take just to do my laundry, the happier I'll be.

5. Steam Cleaner

I fucking HATE scrubbing those stupid linoleum floors in the apartment that everyone spills beer and soda all over and no one else wants to clean. And do you understand how NASTY it is to actually realize, on your hands and knees, that the floor level is LOWER when the floor is clean? That there is a LAYER of dirt covering the floor? it is just plain disgusting.

That's all I've got for now. So go out and buy me something. Chances are I've done way too much for you.

:)

I Am a Front Desk Agent

While perusing the internet, I cam across this little gem.

I am a Front Desk Agent. I have advanced degrees in Accounting, Public Relations, Marketing, Business, Computer Science, Civil Engineering, and Swahili. I can also read minds.

Of course I have the reservation that you booked six years ago even though you don't have the confirmation number and you think it was made under a name that starts with "S". It is completely my fault that the blizzard shut down the airport and you have to sleep in a warm king-size bed while 5000 of your co-travellers are sleeping in benches at the airport. I am sorry.
It is not a problem for me to give you seven connecting, non-smoking, poolside suites with two king beds in each, four rollaways, 3 cribs, and yes, I can install a wet bar.

I know it is my fault that we do not have a helicopter landing pad.

I am a Front Desk Agent. I am expected to speak all languages fluently. It is obvious to me that when you booked your reservation for Friday on the weekend we're sold out that you really meant Saturday. My company has entrusted me with all financial information and decisions, and yes, I am lying to you when I say we have no more rooms available. It is not a problem for me to quickly construct several more guest rooms. THIS time I will not forget the helicopter landing pad. And it is my fault that everyone wanted to stay here.

I should have known you were coming in, even though you had no reservation. After all, you stay at our brand of hotel all the time, 300 nights a year, and this is only the first time you've ever been to our city.

I am a front desk agent. I am quite capable of checking three people in, two people out, taking five reservations, answering fifteen incoming calls, delivering six bath towels to room 625, plunging the toilet in room 101, and restocking the supply of pool towels, all at the same time. Yes, I will be glad to call the van driver and tell him to drive over all the cars stuck in traffic because you've been waiting at the airport for 15 minutes and you've got jet lag.

I am a front desk agent, an operator, a bellhop, houseman, guest service representative, housekeeper, sales coordinator, information specialist, entertainment critic, restauranteur, stock broker, referee, janitor, computer technician, plumber, ice-breaker, postman, babysitter, dispatcher, laundry cleaner, lifeguard, electrician, ambassador, personal fitness trainer, fax expert, human jukebox, domestic abuse counselor, and verbal punching bag.

Yes, I know room 112 is not answering their phone. And of course I have their travel itinerary so I know exactly where they went when they left here 9 hours ago, and what their cell phone number is.I always know where to find the best vegetarian-kosher-Mongolian-barbecue restaurants. I know exactly what to see and do in this city in fifteen minutes without spending any money and without getting caught in traffic.

I take personal blame for airline food, traffic jams, rental car flat tires, and the nation's economy.

I realize that you meant to book your reservation here. People often confuse us with the Galaxy Delight Motel, Antarctica. Of course I can "fit you in" and yes, you may have the special $1 rate because you are affiliated with the Hoboken Accounting and Bagel Club.

I am expected to smile, empathize, sympathize, console, condole, upsell, downsell (and know when to do which), perform, sing, dance, fix the printer, and tell your friends that you're here. And I know exactly where 613 Possum Trot Lane is in the Way Out There subdivision that they just built last week.

After all, I AM a Front Desk Agent!

Guest Services, How may I Help You?

BACKGROUND: I work at a hotel called the Sheraton Ferncroft with an attached water resort called the Coco Key Water Resort. On the Water Resort's website, the Hotel's main line is given. This dialogue is an ACTUAL phone call I recieved.

Me: Thank you for calling the Sheraton Ferncroft Resort. This is David, How may I assist you?

Guest: shouting: IS THIS COCO KEY WEST.

Me: ...... no sir, this is the Sheraton Ferncroft Hotel. would you like to be transferred to our Water Resort?

Guest: No, I just need the address. Do ya'll have rooms available?

Me: Yes we do. For a rate of $___ you can get a room with four passes to the water resort.

Guest: Great! What is your address.

Me: 50 Ferncroft Road.

Guest:.... 50 what road?

Me: FERNCROFT. Same as the hotel.

Guest: .....well how do you spell that??

Me: F-E-R-N....

Guest: S-E-R-N...

Me: No sir, it's F. F as in Frank.

Guest: S as in What???

Me: F as in Frank. E-R-N-C-R-O-F-T

Guest: Okay, thank you!

A few minutes pass. Shortly after the guest calls again, slightly irritated.

Guest: THIS STREET DOES NOT EXIST. It's not in my GPS.

Me: That's strange sir I do apologize. Would you like directions?

Guest: Is this a new street? What else is there?

Me: No it's been here a while. The Sheraton Ferncroft is across from the Ferncroft Country Club and Ferncroft Tower...

Guest: So it's S-E-R-N-C-R-O-S-T right?

Me: speechless: F AS IN Frank!-E as in Elephant!-R as in road!-N as in Nancy!-C as in Cat!-R as in Road!-O as in Octopus!-F as in FRANK!-T as in TOM!

Guest: Oh............. Ok.

a few moments pass. my coworker answers the phone.

Coworker: ........... no sir it's f-E-r-n...... yes. road.....number 50....see you soon.

This One Is For You.

Now that I've pissed you all off.... just a quick post regarding how I feel at the moment.

I'm having trouble seeing the point of view that I just woke up one day and decided to stroll down the garden path to Hell.

Really not sure how leaving a school could make so many people so angry. And say so many hurtful things about my resolve, intellect, and perseverance.

Struggling with the fact that people make it their own business what I choose to do with my life.

This one is for you. This one is for the nay-sayers. This one is for that person so deeply rooted in their own personal decision that they struggle to accept anyone else's. And let me tell you- so many times in my life I've been told not to do this, don't live there, don't leave home, quit your job, get a job, get a different job, stop wasting your life, write me a song, stop writing music, go to church, go to Minnesota, be who I expect you to be God damn it, because in the end isn't that what it's about?

Here's my chance to say this out loud. FUCK. YOU.

If you think you can run my life better than I can, try spending all that extra energy on yourself. Because guess what: no one is impressed so far.

I'm taking the wind up mechanism off of my back. No one's running me.

In Which I Go Against Everything I've Ever Stood For.

I'm dropping out of school.

Yep, that's right...my mind is made up and it's not going back. This blog is intended for those who believe I've made a rash decision, who think I haven't thought it through enough, and to show that this is not giving up, but starting over.

I've been thinking a lot lately and talking to a lot of different people. While the consensus seems to be, among college students, that going to school is the be all end all of achieving success, a broader view of people seem to say no, there are alternate routes around.

I like to think of life as a sort of road trip. You start out not really knowing where you are headed, maybe you stop and ask directions at a gas station. But in reality, you are really in the drivers seat, with no mapquest directions to follow.

Most people today seem to think College is the superhighway to success. Going down alternate routes will only lead you astray, lost in the woods and out of gas. But in reality, College is only one road that most people choose to travel. But that does not make it the only road.

I've spoken to many different people, and most people whograduate from College are handed their piece of paper and think that they are prepared for what lies ahead. They go into jobs waving their diplomas and will probably get hired. But in reality, most of those people will find that the real experience they have been missing will come back to haunt them.

Living off ramen noodles and writing term papers will prepare you for just that. But working in a real-world environment shows that you have longevity and determination. The same as a college degree. While I would love to obtain a degree, at this point it seems a lost cause. Many factors at work with brand switching, pay cuts, flucuating hours and increased responsibilities have forced me to look again at my options.

I have not, since graduating from High School, written a single song. Aside from writing Romeo and Juliet for DHS, all my creative energy has been redirected to assignments, 40 hour weeks and practicing Musio Clementi's Sonatinas.

I have come to the conclusion that by pursuing a degree in music, I have, in essence, given up on what made me fall in love with the art in the first place. College cannot teach me the passion, ingenuity and emotion that used to define what I wrote before. And furthermore, constant drilling of musical laws and regulations have subconsciously boxed in my work.

My dropping out is, in a way, a breaking out of the standardized shell that schooling is effectively placing over me. Perhaps school may be your way out, but I've decided it is definitely not mine.

A Few Things I've Learned From Living in The Point

So as a result of moving, my life has pretty much taken on somewhat of a shift. Every new situation requires some kind of adaptation. Here are a few things I've learned from my first couple months living the dream in the infamous Point in Salem:

• Children ride tricycles till 3am.
• Mary Jane Park mostly stays true to it's name.
• The only white people live on the third floor of #35 with myself.
• Become well versed in Seinfeld, Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and humor of that nature. Without the aforementioned knowledge, life will make very little sense.
• Learn to make a snapping noise by waving your right hand in the air.
• Don't pee off the balcony.
• Know the location of Holden's Oil, and it's purpose in life.
• Buy food at some point from Plum tomatoes.
• If possible, become employed by one of the aforementioned companies.
• Keep Working on that snapping noise.
• Understand and appreciate the inner workings of "SPC".
• Learn to play as many games with ping pong balls as you possibly can.
• People who drop objects of value while visiting endure a leave of absence before returning.
• Don't pee off the balcony.
• Parking on a certain side of the road on certain tuesdays can earn you a ticket.
• Practice the snapping noise again.
• Learn the definition of the verb "To Snap" and all of it's conjugations.
• 15 year old neighbors drop out of school early, and visit regularly.
• Hairstyles change, but N*Sync is forever.
• Police only respond to actual emergencies, ie. loud music or peeing outside. Burglaries, drug trafficking and street fights are unimportant.
• Don't pee off the balcony.
• The downstairs neighbor will be blasting Reggae and chugging Heineken by 8am.
• Don't say good night when going to bed. Don't say goodbye when talking on the phone.
• People will often fall asleep on your couches. Once in a while they will migrate to your bed if you aren't using it.
• "La Cocina" is the best place to by rotten fruit and strange beverages. Congress Street is run by asians and is the best place to buy anything else.
• Electricians creep around and live in the basement.
• Can you make that snapping noise yet?
• Festivus occurs once a year.

As one can probably tell, it takes some getting used to. But I think I might be slowly learning.

Blog Fiend

So it seems like I might be updating my blog moreso than anyone else.

AS much as I would love to keep posting for those reading, I know that alot of people will be playing catch up once they DO start reading.

And by the way, only one blog that I follow has updated at all. Thanks Vanessa, for giving me something to read at work. :)

Shouts Into The Abyss

It's strange really. Most of the time you can't get me to shut up about myself.

One would think I have exhausted all outlets of communication. I meet new people. I hold them hostage telling them about myself. I talk on the phone. I write expressive music. I sing. I play piano.

But I saw that a few people I knew were blogging. The whole idea seemed interesting, but I looked at it from afar. I knew that no one would be interested in anything I had to say, and that people who didn't know me wouldn't bother to read. As of now I do have a few off and on followers, but for the most part the subtitle is correct.

Shouting into the abyss is a phrase I have always found interesting. Something that is so vain, and yet, we do it anyways. I realize that by writing this blog I am in fact, the proverbial tree that falls in the forest. If no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

And yet for me, in the blog posts I write, in the songs I compose, it is more often than not I am trying, in some way, to strike some silent interior chord. In a sense, I blog to converse with my readers. If they exist. But in another sense, I am conversing with myself. No, not in a creepy introverted "I have no friends" sort of way, but if only because more often than not, I am the one talking.

I think it is a wise thing to listen. Not only to others, but to yourself as well.

A Blast From The Past.

I will add a an actual post after this, but I dug up this story from a facebook note, before I started this blog, and couldn't help but post it.

This took place my first semester of college.

8 AM Classes are fun!!!

So here's how my day goes today:

6:30AM: Wake up, realize that no matter how fast I move, there is no way I can get dressed, shower and beat the traffic to get a parking spot.

7:00AM: Throw on some clean clothes and a hat so that people can't tell I didn't wash my hair... run to the car.

7:10AM: Sit in traffic.

7:30AM: Sit in traffic. Adjust the radio station, sit in traffic

7:45AM: Finally find a spot at the O'Keefe Center on the other side of the world. See a bus, approach it, and have the driver close the door in my face. Thanks.

7:45-8:15AM: RUN to the upper-south campus, which is nowhere near the main campus OR the O'Keefe Building, but rather about 5 or 6 miles away in some residential neighborhood in the woods. (wtf??)

8:15AM: Arrive at Upper South Campus, only to approach the "Commuter Appreciation" booth and find that they are taking away the free coffee. Damn you, resident students, damn you.

8:20AM: ARRIVE at class 20min. late.By this time one would expect the class to be present or that I would be interrupting something. NOPE! The teacher has apparently let the class go 45 MINUTES EARLY and left the syllabus on a desk at the door.
NEXT: Take the syllabus, get on the bus, buy some books, and flip off the residents one more time as I head back home.I may just find an unsuspecting resident and knock them out for their parking sticker.

Happy Commuter Appreciation Day!

Strange Connections

I'm at a weird crossroads in my life... it's an intersection that apparently quite a few people have passed through. Every day. Literally everyday, I am finding out that people in my lives have strange connections to eachother.

One of the managers at the hotel waterpark has known my roommate since he was four. This is not an isolated incident, many people in my life have started to connect to eachother in strange ways.

As people expand their social circles, it's almost mind blowing how many connections are made. I am a firm believer in the fact that between any two people, there is a chain of associations that can be made between them.

I've started looking through some of my friend's facebook profiles, and clicking on the "mutual friends" tab. I am almost always surprised to see a face that I had no idea would be there. Try it out yourself... you may be surprised.

Brian's Blog.... AKA "Breen's Blawg"

We pressured my roommate to start a blog.

It promises to be delightfully mundane and forced.

Just read it.

School Days, School Days, Good Old Golden Rule Days

And so I realize that I am definitely not too cool for school. So yesterday, I went to sort out the whole re-admission thing that had been holding me back.

As you might remember from this post, I was dismissed as a student for "failing to maintain an adequate GPA". Well. I wrote a letter that same day, mailed it in, called several times, remailed the letter, and waited to hear back.

May.
June.
July.
August.

And still no word from the school. So i decided it was time to head down in person and settle a few scores.

Now I have learned from working in the hotel industry that if you feel that you are right, and you are angry enough about it, you will come to find that most people don't value their job enough to say no, and that most will give in to your harassment. So armed with this knowledge and the support of my friends, (okay well, actually, my roommate bet against my persuasive abilities but that's fine) I marched down to Salem State to have a few words with the registrar. Except I actually drove. But you get the metaphor right? Good.

So into the college I marched. Except, in reality, I walked at a leisurely pace through the door. I told the registrar my issues, how many times I had called, the letters I had sent, and all the difficulty that Salem State College had caused me, and how it ruined my summer vacation and that because of this I now had to have an ulcer removed. Except i didn't say I had to get an ulcer removed, only because I didn't have an ulcer removed.

The registrar told me that I was readmitted in late June.

Late. June.
LATE JUNE!!

At which point I happily tell her how great it would have been to be notified, to not have my online account locked out and delted, and to not have debt collectors calling about my student loans.

Thank You Salem State!

And so I registered, leaving me with just today before classes begin... but I'm not worried. I always go into things at the last minute and ill prepared, and my intuition hasn't failed me just yet.

A Blog Post in Which I Rediscover Blog-Posting.

Wow....

Are you still there?

Good.

I can't believe it's been nearly a month since I 've posted on here. It only feels like a couple of days have past. A couple VERY busy days. To start to get up to date is overwhelming. let's make a numbered list shall we?

1.) All moved in... even moreso than I was before and it is great. Getting to know people is one of my greatest joys in life and this new living arrangement has given that oppurtunity to me many times. Countless hours spent sitting out on the roof with different people, one on one, getting to know eachother, watching the cop cars circle the neighborhood (hey, it's not exactly Beverly Hills). Each person I've met I have been fortunate enough to share much in common.

2.) I just got back from a trip to our Nation's Capitol.

Annnnd here comes the sub-list!!!

2A.) HOLY CHRIST Obama... please install some working bathrooms SOMEWHERE in DC... I sawear every mens room in the city was closed... and the one that wasn't closed (the Lincoln Memorial) I couldn't use because the womens room was closed, so all the women decided "hey, let's stampede the men's room in the shadow of our nation's great emancipator!" So I couldn't use the bathroom desgnated for my gender because there were WOMEN in it.

2B.) Honestly, I know we are smarter in new England but really now- it shouldn't take 3 hours to find Mount Vernon. Even if you are from Texas. GOD... I sat in that car for hours upon hours with a GPS and a map and the internet and the exact address and it still took our Texan transporters about 3 hours to find the place, with me, My girlfriend Thera and her cousin Eric trying to guide them. But to no avail. Apparently they don't listen to us northern types. Maybe if we had lost the Civil War there would be a clearer line: Entering the Confederate State of America: Leave your IQ at the door. They say a picture tells a thousand words. This one says one thing: Mount. Vernon. Not to mention when we got there it started to MONSOON. Thank you, Mount Vernon. Thank You.

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2C.) All in all it was a great trip. It's fascinating to think that behind the walls of every buidling we passed in DC, major decisions about how our country is run were taking place. And whether or not we agree with these decisions, it's still incredible to be in the spot they are made.

Ironically enough, President Obama was not around. Oh no, he wasn't hiding in the White House, he was on Vacation. IN MASSACHUSETTS.

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And now I leave you with all these updatey and far too untimely utterances. Back to the philosophical ramblings soon.