I'll just begin with a brief disclaimer. I have not given up on blogging - it just happens to be board meeting season and I haven't had a spare second. Literally. In addition, I've actually written this post twice only to burst into tears so I've left out most of the sentimental Thanksgiving memories - better to reflect during a less stressful time. Anyways, on with the show.
There are few things that you can count on in the world of television. People die and come back. Series will jump ahead in time, or sometimes recast a character out of the blue (soap operas, I'm looking at you). However, one shared trait amongst most long-running American television series is the Thanksgiving episode. Now, I know this doesn't apply to every show. "24" would have to have a whole season of Thanksgiving episodes and "Survivor: Puritan New England" doesn't have the same draw that an exotic locale would. But for a lot of tv, the Thanksgiving episode is a consistent treat.
"Friends" had quite a few of them. "Gossip Girl" is almost on its third. Even "Heroes" had one. Thanksgiving offers the unique opportunity for a television show to explore family dynamics in an authentic setting. There is no need to strand two characters in an elevator for dramatic conflict - instead, let them be drawn together by those invisible bonds of familial obligation!
I am not writing this post out of a love for television. In fact, the only tv I've watched on the tv set since moving to South Africa is "Morning Live" - one of South Africa's morning news programs. What I do love, however, is comparing life to a television show. I often joked with friends in college that our lives were like a big television show - one season, a character would go missing (usually to take a semester off or to study abroad). In another season, a supporting character would suddenly be thrust into a dramatic romance and the fallout would take over everyone's lives.
My Thanksgivings of late have served more for entertainment value than for holiday feel-goodness. Thanksgiving used to be one of my favorite family holidays - my Aunt Kathy's pumpkin pie, my mother's obsession with us all wearing "Thanksgiving outfits," Grandma's need to have "real butter" on her potatoes and staying late into the evening to play games with Uncle Mike and Aunt Kathy. But after my Uncle Mike and Grandma passed away, the family seemed to lose its motivation to celebrate the holiday. I personally have not had family Thanksgiving in 6 years I think.
Regardless, it is a great time to reflect on what we're thankful for. It's also a great opportunity to recognize Native Americans - a cause very near to my heart. We all know that I'm obsessed with Pocahontas, but it goes a bit deeper than that. After my freshman year of college I volunteered for a few weeks on a Lakota Sioux reservation in Mission, South Dakota. Though I spent the first week harboring a bit of resentment (imagine me, weighed down with power tools, attempting to fix a wheelchair ramp in the 100 degree sun while a bunch of old Methodist women try to further enslave me and you'll have a picture of a typical day), I eventually learned to love the culture.
I know Thanksgiving is seen by quite a few people as a lie to cover up the genocide that settlers committed with regards to Native Americans, but I think that is a bit off base. I'm not disputing the severity of the damage that European settlers did - I just think that Thanksgiving, regardless of its origins, serves as such a great tool to educate young Americans on Native Americans and to keep their history alive. Why eliminate something if it has the ability to do good?
Anyways, I did not mean to get all political. My real purpose was just to list some things I am thankful for and to get back in that blogging groove. So here I go!
This year, I am most thankful for:
-My wonderful family.
-My fantastic friends all over the world.
-My job! Who would have thought I'd be saying that? My how things change. But I truly love coming to work each day.
-Along those lines, I am so thankful for my colleagues - everyone from my boss to the tea lady has been so welcoming and it is such a privilege to spend my days with them.
-South Africa! Though I question some things here (do people reeeeeally need to try to sell you something at every single intersection? is it logical for the word "shoo" to mean yes, no, wow, I'm sorry, and also function as a sigh? does every single person have to ask me if I've met a "hot chick" in our very first conversation?), it really is a magical place full of so much excitement.
-Furthermore, I am thankful for the super-cool city of Johannesburg. I was expecting a slumland and instead I ended up in one of the most beautiful, exciting, and diverse cities I've ever been to. I am not, however, thankful for the obnoxiously bad road planning, the abundance of potholes, and the lack of a decent brand of canned pasta. (Chef Boyardee, where are you???)
-Pinotage. South African wine is a thing of beauty, particularly this delicious blend.
-Books, video games, and running shoes. Provide me with my three favourite hobbies.
-Serena Williams and Beyonce, obviously.
-Country music Christmas carols. You know you love them.
-And one final shout out - to my cleaning lady. Though I am convinced you are a spy and I may start putting mousetraps on top of my entertainment center if you unplug my xbox again, I must admit that it is so nice to come home to a clean house and ironed clothing every wednesday.
-I'm also thankful that in one week I'll be flying into New York City and then will be home in Meadville two days later to celebrate Christmas, do puzzles with my mom, force my brother to see New Moon and play Mario Bros., once again try to learn how to cook from my dad, and to catch up with friends. It should be the best month ever.
It's funny how that when you're happy everything else in life seems so much better. Last year, I was worried about going home for Christmas because I feared nothing would be able to get me on the plane to go back to my job. When I did have to leave home, I cried the whole way to the airport and then seriously considered "accidentally" missing my flight. This year, I'm so looking forward to coming home because I really feel like I've earned a break and I'm so excited to recharge so that I continue to have such a fantastic time working. What a blessing.
I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday - please excuse this less than thrilling post.
:) Mike
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Just like a tattoo...
Has anyone ever noticed how absolutely strange Dopey (from Snow White) is? He looks like the forgotten lovechild of a Precious Moments Doll and ET. Yikes. Who ever thought that a mutant dwarf (little person?) who lacks hair and the ability to speak would be a good Disney mascot? I may have nightmares.
Anyways, that doesn't have a lot to do with what I wanted to talk about. I just happened to be watching Snow White up until a few minutes ago. I went on a Disney buying binge on Friday so I've had quite an "animated" weekend - pun very intended. I had the day off on Friday, so I went to lunch with our office coordinator, Debbie. We had some wine and next thing I know I'm in the mall buying every Disney movie that I don't already own (the list isn't too long so I only ended up buying 5 - could have been a lot worse). I'm now the proud owner of Snow White, Hercules, The Black Cauldron, The Sword and the Stone, and Lilo and Stitch. I almost have a complete collection! I'm not sure why I have the desire to own every single Disney movie, but I do. I certainly get my money's worth out of them - I have to have seen Beauty and the Beast over 500 times, and my other favorites well over 100 times each. Disney movies make for great background entertainment when doing work, schoolwork, cleaning, writing, etc. If you want to pay attention, it is great. If not, you can just listen to the songs and the whimsical dialogue. Perfection.
About an hour after my Disney movie shopping spree, I was planted in a movie theatre eating Maltesers (malted milk balls - or Whoppers - for non-EMEA readers) and popcorn while watching "A Christmas Carol" - which I loved, by the way. I am now firmly in the holiday spirit. Anyways, while chomping on my popcorn, I felt a sharp pain on my left hip. I looked down, moved my pants a bit, and was shocked to find that I had a new TATTOO! Uh oh.
It all came flooding back to me. In 45 minutes I'd managed to completely forget it. After strolling out of the movie store, I strolled about in search of a diet coke. Now, South African malls have everything under the sun - these people know how to do the mall experience - so I shouldn't have been surprised when I passed a tattoo parlor. I don't know what was different about me - I think I just needed to let loose a little - but I decided that I was going to march in there and get a tattoo.
Moments later I was sitting in the front window of the shop, pants down, getting my hip needled. You see, I've had the design of this tattoo in my wallet ever since I left Australia (where I studied abroad in college) almost 4 years ago. It's a simple design but for some reason I've never taken the time to get it. I already have a tattoo (my fraternity letters on my right hip) so it is not like I was terrified of the experience. And I have an obsession with symmetry so having one tattooed hip for 5 years has really bugged me.
Well, now I'm symmetrical. And I have a firm reminder of my Australian experience forever imprinted on my hip. I don't regret it and I doubt I ever will - Australia was the place that showed me how much I love being in nature, that I could be in love, and how to just chill out and enjoy life. It is good to have a reminder of that with me always.
The design is quite simple - it is a constellation. The Southern Cross is a constellation that you can only see in the southern hemisphere (it is also on the Aussie flag) - so it is nice that I got the tattoo down here in SA, also in the southern hemisphere. The first time I ever saw it was a very special night. I was with my Australian significant other (who has been my most significant "significant other" to date), who pointed it out to me in a sea of stars in the clear Australian sky. It was on the beach and all of that la-dee-da-sappy-lovefest-hallmark-moment stuff and that moment has always stuck out to me as one of the best of my life. The tattoo isn't to remember that relationship though. Relationship-related tattoos are a slippery slope (unless you're Beyonce, who can do no wrong). The tattoo (a) represents an amazing period of my life and (b) reminds me that so many magical things exist in the world and you can't see them all from one place.
I don't condone getting inked while intoxicated, but I must say that I nearly died laughing when I looked down at my hip in the movie theater and saw the southern cross staring up at me. First of all, I should have been concerned that I was pulling down my pants to look at my hip in the middle of a children's movie. Pee-wee Herman I am not. And it was just plain funny to think - "well, shit - when did THAT happen?"
Now for another wonderful South African work day. I am bound and determined to learn the country's geography this week - so expect an educational post on that later in the week.
I'm going to go put some vaseline on my new acquisition.
:) Mike
Anyways, that doesn't have a lot to do with what I wanted to talk about. I just happened to be watching Snow White up until a few minutes ago. I went on a Disney buying binge on Friday so I've had quite an "animated" weekend - pun very intended. I had the day off on Friday, so I went to lunch with our office coordinator, Debbie. We had some wine and next thing I know I'm in the mall buying every Disney movie that I don't already own (the list isn't too long so I only ended up buying 5 - could have been a lot worse). I'm now the proud owner of Snow White, Hercules, The Black Cauldron, The Sword and the Stone, and Lilo and Stitch. I almost have a complete collection! I'm not sure why I have the desire to own every single Disney movie, but I do. I certainly get my money's worth out of them - I have to have seen Beauty and the Beast over 500 times, and my other favorites well over 100 times each. Disney movies make for great background entertainment when doing work, schoolwork, cleaning, writing, etc. If you want to pay attention, it is great. If not, you can just listen to the songs and the whimsical dialogue. Perfection.
About an hour after my Disney movie shopping spree, I was planted in a movie theatre eating Maltesers (malted milk balls - or Whoppers - for non-EMEA readers) and popcorn while watching "A Christmas Carol" - which I loved, by the way. I am now firmly in the holiday spirit. Anyways, while chomping on my popcorn, I felt a sharp pain on my left hip. I looked down, moved my pants a bit, and was shocked to find that I had a new TATTOO! Uh oh.
It all came flooding back to me. In 45 minutes I'd managed to completely forget it. After strolling out of the movie store, I strolled about in search of a diet coke. Now, South African malls have everything under the sun - these people know how to do the mall experience - so I shouldn't have been surprised when I passed a tattoo parlor. I don't know what was different about me - I think I just needed to let loose a little - but I decided that I was going to march in there and get a tattoo.
Moments later I was sitting in the front window of the shop, pants down, getting my hip needled. You see, I've had the design of this tattoo in my wallet ever since I left Australia (where I studied abroad in college) almost 4 years ago. It's a simple design but for some reason I've never taken the time to get it. I already have a tattoo (my fraternity letters on my right hip) so it is not like I was terrified of the experience. And I have an obsession with symmetry so having one tattooed hip for 5 years has really bugged me.
Well, now I'm symmetrical. And I have a firm reminder of my Australian experience forever imprinted on my hip. I don't regret it and I doubt I ever will - Australia was the place that showed me how much I love being in nature, that I could be in love, and how to just chill out and enjoy life. It is good to have a reminder of that with me always.
The design is quite simple - it is a constellation. The Southern Cross is a constellation that you can only see in the southern hemisphere (it is also on the Aussie flag) - so it is nice that I got the tattoo down here in SA, also in the southern hemisphere. The first time I ever saw it was a very special night. I was with my Australian significant other (who has been my most significant "significant other" to date), who pointed it out to me in a sea of stars in the clear Australian sky. It was on the beach and all of that la-dee-da-sappy-lovefest-hallmark-moment stuff and that moment has always stuck out to me as one of the best of my life. The tattoo isn't to remember that relationship though. Relationship-related tattoos are a slippery slope (unless you're Beyonce, who can do no wrong). The tattoo (a) represents an amazing period of my life and (b) reminds me that so many magical things exist in the world and you can't see them all from one place.
I don't condone getting inked while intoxicated, but I must say that I nearly died laughing when I looked down at my hip in the movie theater and saw the southern cross staring up at me. First of all, I should have been concerned that I was pulling down my pants to look at my hip in the middle of a children's movie. Pee-wee Herman I am not. And it was just plain funny to think - "well, shit - when did THAT happen?"
Now for another wonderful South African work day. I am bound and determined to learn the country's geography this week - so expect an educational post on that later in the week.
I'm going to go put some vaseline on my new acquisition.
:) Mike
Monday, November 9, 2009
Turbulence
As I get older, life seems less about learning to overcome my fears and more about drinking my way through them. A recent flight reinforced this point.
There we were, nearly 40,000 feet above the ground. My boss is asking me what our action points for the next week are - deadlines, important meetings, etc. I am nodding vacantly, trying desperately to concentrate while also reciting The Lord's Prayer in my head. The boss looks over and asks - "are you alright?" and I'm forced to make a decision: do I scream "no!" and let loose in the flight sickness bag or do I lie my face off and try to continue working? I chose option 2, but only because my stomach (barely) cooperated.
For the ride home, I was on my own, so I decided to lubricate the journey a bit. So, at 11:30AM I was sitting in an airport restaurant drinking wine and reading a videogame magazine. I was still a nervous wreck, so I moved on to a coffee shop and had a beer and a bear claw (delicious - I always try to treat myself at the airport - last supper mentality). I decided that if the coffee shop was selling beer, it was socially acceptable for me to be drinking it. I finished up with another glass of wine minutes before boarding the flight. This was about successful as Napoleon's attempt to take over Russia. This time, instead of being terrified and working, I was just terrified and drunk.
This scenario is part of disturbing trend in my life as of late. I've gone from loving flying - to the point of planning which in-flight movies I'll be watching over a month before the flight, to absolutely dreading it - to the point of having trouble breathing steadily when thinking of an approaching air-travel date. Nothing particularly horrible has happened to me - but this transition from hero-to-zero has happened in just the last 1.5 years.
Up until the scenario I listed at the opening of this entry, I had my moments of terror privately. I burst into tears in the bathroom of a flight last January, threw up on a flight in June, and attempted to sedate myself for the first time ever on my trip down here in September (red wine and benadryl - I'm not exactly Pete Doherty). So far nothing has worked. Some surprising things have helped a little. I sat between a very gregarious family man and a very nervous first-time flier on a flight to New York in August. We kept up a three-way convo for most of the flight, and something about the camaraderie/mutual admission of terror really helped. But not enough. I still felt as if I was teetering on the brink of death for 8 straight hours.
I have an 18 hour flight approaching next month and it is looming as large in my psyche as a warthog in a squirrel village. On one hand, it is awesome that they do a direct flight from South Africa to New York. On the other hand, there are so many potentially terrifying things that can happen over 18 hours - how will I cope? I was at a barbecue (a "brai," as the South Africans call it) on Sunday and I spoke with a man who had just flew on one of these epic journeys. I asked him how he made it through the trip. He said, "I got on the plane, took a sleeping pill, and woke up in New York." Some help. I would consider resorting to prescriptions, but this too has its worries. What if my heart stops mid-flight? I don't want to trivialize the deaths of Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, but certainly they've taught us the dangers of over-sedating. Also - what if the f-ing thing does go down over the Atlantic? If by some miracle of God we survive, how the hell am I supposed to swim to safety if I'm knocked out?
The problem with this sudden fear of aviation is that there is no logic in it. I read that between 1990 and 1999, the chances of even being injured on a UK licensed flight were 1 in 180,000,000. I talked to a pilot a few months back, and he said, "you have to remember that you're more likely to be killed by a donkey than an airplane." Sure sure. We've all seen the statistics. You're also about 6 times more likely to be killed by a coconut than by a shark but it is far less terrifying to lay under a palm tree than it is to swim in the deep blue sea. When in the air, I try to remember the statistics. But the minute the plane rumbles or I hear a strange noise logic goes out the window. I'd much rather be leading a donkey on the solid, reliable ground than sputtering about in a tin can miles in the air.
Flying can also turn you into the most superstitious person on Earth. On this most recent flight, the check-in lady said that I could have a seat on an earlier flight if I wanted. At first I thought - it is a sign, the second flight is going to crash - I need to take this seat! Then I thought - no, that is disturbing the natural order, upsetting my fate - the first plane will crash! I decided that I should go with destiny and take the second flight. Why upset the natural order? My dad once told me that he refuses to run red lights because he thinks it upsets the order in which things are supposed to happen to him. (No wonder why he became a police officer). He was probably telling me this to make me a safe driver (good luck there, buddy) and instead I have multiplied it tenfold and applied it to flight travel. And now that they let me pick my seat number, picking a lucky numbered seat is usually a requirement as well.
I've always loved plane-crash inspired fiction. Whether it is Lost (one of my favourite in-flight-games, before I became a whack-job, was to pick my ideal "cast" out of the other passengers), Bioshock, or Cast Away - there is a very romantic element to plane crashes. But for each of those, there are other non-fiction tales of flights-gone-wrong that tilt the scale in the other direction.
I know this is not an especially significant or enlightening post, but I think part of getting over this fear has to be to talk about it. I've chosen a career that requires a lot of flying. And I love love love to travel. I love to see new places. If I wouldn't have flown last week I would not have been able to spend a few magical days in Cape Town, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. And if I don't fly home next month, I wouldn't be able to spend my favourite time of year with my favourite people. So it is something I have to do.
I heard an interesting quote this morning that I think is a very good lesson on how to live life. A person said, "even if your faith wavers, your hope never should." Whether that is in a religious or non-religious context, I think that is a very good way to live life. Sometimes in life, I may lose faith in others, in myself, in my ability to do something as easy as flying. However, as long as I never give up hoping - that constant feeling that things are going to keep getting better - then I am going to keep trying and trying until it actually does.
Mike
There we were, nearly 40,000 feet above the ground. My boss is asking me what our action points for the next week are - deadlines, important meetings, etc. I am nodding vacantly, trying desperately to concentrate while also reciting The Lord's Prayer in my head. The boss looks over and asks - "are you alright?" and I'm forced to make a decision: do I scream "no!" and let loose in the flight sickness bag or do I lie my face off and try to continue working? I chose option 2, but only because my stomach (barely) cooperated.
For the ride home, I was on my own, so I decided to lubricate the journey a bit. So, at 11:30AM I was sitting in an airport restaurant drinking wine and reading a videogame magazine. I was still a nervous wreck, so I moved on to a coffee shop and had a beer and a bear claw (delicious - I always try to treat myself at the airport - last supper mentality). I decided that if the coffee shop was selling beer, it was socially acceptable for me to be drinking it. I finished up with another glass of wine minutes before boarding the flight. This was about successful as Napoleon's attempt to take over Russia. This time, instead of being terrified and working, I was just terrified and drunk.
This scenario is part of disturbing trend in my life as of late. I've gone from loving flying - to the point of planning which in-flight movies I'll be watching over a month before the flight, to absolutely dreading it - to the point of having trouble breathing steadily when thinking of an approaching air-travel date. Nothing particularly horrible has happened to me - but this transition from hero-to-zero has happened in just the last 1.5 years.
Up until the scenario I listed at the opening of this entry, I had my moments of terror privately. I burst into tears in the bathroom of a flight last January, threw up on a flight in June, and attempted to sedate myself for the first time ever on my trip down here in September (red wine and benadryl - I'm not exactly Pete Doherty). So far nothing has worked. Some surprising things have helped a little. I sat between a very gregarious family man and a very nervous first-time flier on a flight to New York in August. We kept up a three-way convo for most of the flight, and something about the camaraderie/mutual admission of terror really helped. But not enough. I still felt as if I was teetering on the brink of death for 8 straight hours.
I have an 18 hour flight approaching next month and it is looming as large in my psyche as a warthog in a squirrel village. On one hand, it is awesome that they do a direct flight from South Africa to New York. On the other hand, there are so many potentially terrifying things that can happen over 18 hours - how will I cope? I was at a barbecue (a "brai," as the South Africans call it) on Sunday and I spoke with a man who had just flew on one of these epic journeys. I asked him how he made it through the trip. He said, "I got on the plane, took a sleeping pill, and woke up in New York." Some help. I would consider resorting to prescriptions, but this too has its worries. What if my heart stops mid-flight? I don't want to trivialize the deaths of Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, but certainly they've taught us the dangers of over-sedating. Also - what if the f-ing thing does go down over the Atlantic? If by some miracle of God we survive, how the hell am I supposed to swim to safety if I'm knocked out?
The problem with this sudden fear of aviation is that there is no logic in it. I read that between 1990 and 1999, the chances of even being injured on a UK licensed flight were 1 in 180,000,000. I talked to a pilot a few months back, and he said, "you have to remember that you're more likely to be killed by a donkey than an airplane." Sure sure. We've all seen the statistics. You're also about 6 times more likely to be killed by a coconut than by a shark but it is far less terrifying to lay under a palm tree than it is to swim in the deep blue sea. When in the air, I try to remember the statistics. But the minute the plane rumbles or I hear a strange noise logic goes out the window. I'd much rather be leading a donkey on the solid, reliable ground than sputtering about in a tin can miles in the air.
Flying can also turn you into the most superstitious person on Earth. On this most recent flight, the check-in lady said that I could have a seat on an earlier flight if I wanted. At first I thought - it is a sign, the second flight is going to crash - I need to take this seat! Then I thought - no, that is disturbing the natural order, upsetting my fate - the first plane will crash! I decided that I should go with destiny and take the second flight. Why upset the natural order? My dad once told me that he refuses to run red lights because he thinks it upsets the order in which things are supposed to happen to him. (No wonder why he became a police officer). He was probably telling me this to make me a safe driver (good luck there, buddy) and instead I have multiplied it tenfold and applied it to flight travel. And now that they let me pick my seat number, picking a lucky numbered seat is usually a requirement as well.
I've always loved plane-crash inspired fiction. Whether it is Lost (one of my favourite in-flight-games, before I became a whack-job, was to pick my ideal "cast" out of the other passengers), Bioshock, or Cast Away - there is a very romantic element to plane crashes. But for each of those, there are other non-fiction tales of flights-gone-wrong that tilt the scale in the other direction.
I know this is not an especially significant or enlightening post, but I think part of getting over this fear has to be to talk about it. I've chosen a career that requires a lot of flying. And I love love love to travel. I love to see new places. If I wouldn't have flown last week I would not have been able to spend a few magical days in Cape Town, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. And if I don't fly home next month, I wouldn't be able to spend my favourite time of year with my favourite people. So it is something I have to do.
I heard an interesting quote this morning that I think is a very good lesson on how to live life. A person said, "even if your faith wavers, your hope never should." Whether that is in a religious or non-religious context, I think that is a very good way to live life. Sometimes in life, I may lose faith in others, in myself, in my ability to do something as easy as flying. However, as long as I never give up hoping - that constant feeling that things are going to keep getting better - then I am going to keep trying and trying until it actually does.
Mike
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Don't Let Me Get Me
Does anyone remember the movie "Must Love Dogs" with Diane Lane? I barely remember most of the film - the most memorable character was that gorgeous Newfoundland pup that followed Diane around (though he served very little purpose in the plot, considering his titular standing). Regardless, one scene has always stuck out to me. It's when good old Diane (God love her) flips out at the butcher because he won't give her a single serving of chicken. She proclaims that she is going to eat dinner hunched over the sink, alone, and does not need more than one serving.
I hear you, girlfriend. This is not a lament over being single - I have recently tried to not be single and have found that my job, like it or not, currently occupies far too much of my free time for me to consider full-time romance. I'd likely have to give up videogames and/or the stairmaster to be in love and let's face it - homey won't play that game.
But Diane raises a key point. This living alone business may have its high points, but on the whole it is for the birds. I can't take it. I miss having people around. I miss waking up on Saturday morning and making Gary watch The Wire or hearing about Steph's crazy night in South Kensington. I miss Borough Market with Kaitlin and laying in bed with Jane and Ece. Going further back, I miss dragging Shaw and Hazen to garage sales or playing Mario Kart with Evan and Kissling or even flipping out at Joey for one reason or another. Most of all, I miss waking up to my mom doing the crossword puzzle on the couch, my dad pouring a fresh cup of coffee, and my brother being passed out in front of some horrible movie like Farce of the Penguins or Dumb and Dumberer.
My South African experience has shown me some of the perks of living alone. I'll share a few with you. I have discovered that it is incredibly fun and deliciously naughty (this shows how sheltered my life is) it is to take a spoon, dip it in the peanut butter, and then dip that same peanut-buttery spoon into the jelly jar, and then eat it! Trust me former roommates, I did not do this during our time of cohabitation. However, I wish I had. One spoonful of this glorious combo is like a full dessert without the clean-up. And it feels so wrong but so right!
I can also do things like have a drink at 11AM on a Sunday. When living with others, it feels a little odd to whip out the gin before noon. However, living alone (especially in South Africa where I hardly drink on weekdays) I can do it without the bat of an eye. I can also play video games at any moment of the day - when I'm not working, of course. There's nothing quite like getting up for a 6AM round of Smash Brothers without fear of waking someone up.
Then there is the naked issue. Living alone gives you the freedom to be naked whenever you want. However, I've never been much of a naked person. I'd venture to say that, after years on the swim team and lots of camping and all of that that I'm much more comfortable nude than the next person. However, I find little enjoyment in sitting around the house naked. I just feel like a deviant and I'd worry about injury in the kitchen.
There is also the very necessary but very temporary need to misbehave in all of the ways you could not in your youth. Eating ice cream for dinner, sleeping on the couch all night, watching tv while doing your homework - the spirit of rebellion lives strongly in all of these mundane activities. I settled into a delicious bowl of Cherry Garcia for supper a couple of nights ago and I felt like James Dean - pure rebel.
One can also think of clever new exercise and dieting techniques without fear of scrutiny. A few days back I didn't feel like getting in the car and going to the gym. So, I decided to play a Disney exercise game (like a drinking game but lamer). I put in Beauty and the Beast and every time someone on screen was singing I would do an exercise - I rotated between jumping jacks, sit-ups, and push ups. You can also crash diet without looking like the depraved individual that you obviously are. When I came to South Africa I had just spent a week eating and drinking in rural France. Yum turned to glum when it was time to put on my skinny jeans. So I embraced the Special K diet with abandon and, as opposed to my last attempt at it, I moved back to a normal diet once the desired results had been achieved. Success.
Overall, though, I'd have to say that this living alone business is more of a temporary fling than a love affair. For every stolen spoonful of PB&J there is a terrifying bump in the night. For every indulgent game of Mario Kart there is the lack of a response from the couch next to you when you exclaim "I just killed you with that red shell!" And there is the constant fear that you'll become just a little too comfortable with being alone and the next thing you know you're setting a place for your cat at the dinner table and leaving your toenail clippings on the coffee table.
I don't think humans are solitary creatures. I'm pretty confident that one day I'll do all of those fall-in-love and have-a-family type things, so I'm not completely terrified about the future. But I think sometimes the fear of being alone is so great that we actually embrace it. I'm so happy that I've gotten to know myself even better in this last month of domestic solitude, but even if I was the coolest person on Earth - one is still the loneliest number.
Gotta run - there's a spoonful of PB&J waiting for me in the kitchen.
Mike
I hear you, girlfriend. This is not a lament over being single - I have recently tried to not be single and have found that my job, like it or not, currently occupies far too much of my free time for me to consider full-time romance. I'd likely have to give up videogames and/or the stairmaster to be in love and let's face it - homey won't play that game.
But Diane raises a key point. This living alone business may have its high points, but on the whole it is for the birds. I can't take it. I miss having people around. I miss waking up on Saturday morning and making Gary watch The Wire or hearing about Steph's crazy night in South Kensington. I miss Borough Market with Kaitlin and laying in bed with Jane and Ece. Going further back, I miss dragging Shaw and Hazen to garage sales or playing Mario Kart with Evan and Kissling or even flipping out at Joey for one reason or another. Most of all, I miss waking up to my mom doing the crossword puzzle on the couch, my dad pouring a fresh cup of coffee, and my brother being passed out in front of some horrible movie like Farce of the Penguins or Dumb and Dumberer.
My South African experience has shown me some of the perks of living alone. I'll share a few with you. I have discovered that it is incredibly fun and deliciously naughty (this shows how sheltered my life is) it is to take a spoon, dip it in the peanut butter, and then dip that same peanut-buttery spoon into the jelly jar, and then eat it! Trust me former roommates, I did not do this during our time of cohabitation. However, I wish I had. One spoonful of this glorious combo is like a full dessert without the clean-up. And it feels so wrong but so right!
I can also do things like have a drink at 11AM on a Sunday. When living with others, it feels a little odd to whip out the gin before noon. However, living alone (especially in South Africa where I hardly drink on weekdays) I can do it without the bat of an eye. I can also play video games at any moment of the day - when I'm not working, of course. There's nothing quite like getting up for a 6AM round of Smash Brothers without fear of waking someone up.
Then there is the naked issue. Living alone gives you the freedom to be naked whenever you want. However, I've never been much of a naked person. I'd venture to say that, after years on the swim team and lots of camping and all of that that I'm much more comfortable nude than the next person. However, I find little enjoyment in sitting around the house naked. I just feel like a deviant and I'd worry about injury in the kitchen.
There is also the very necessary but very temporary need to misbehave in all of the ways you could not in your youth. Eating ice cream for dinner, sleeping on the couch all night, watching tv while doing your homework - the spirit of rebellion lives strongly in all of these mundane activities. I settled into a delicious bowl of Cherry Garcia for supper a couple of nights ago and I felt like James Dean - pure rebel.
One can also think of clever new exercise and dieting techniques without fear of scrutiny. A few days back I didn't feel like getting in the car and going to the gym. So, I decided to play a Disney exercise game (like a drinking game but lamer). I put in Beauty and the Beast and every time someone on screen was singing I would do an exercise - I rotated between jumping jacks, sit-ups, and push ups. You can also crash diet without looking like the depraved individual that you obviously are. When I came to South Africa I had just spent a week eating and drinking in rural France. Yum turned to glum when it was time to put on my skinny jeans. So I embraced the Special K diet with abandon and, as opposed to my last attempt at it, I moved back to a normal diet once the desired results had been achieved. Success.
Overall, though, I'd have to say that this living alone business is more of a temporary fling than a love affair. For every stolen spoonful of PB&J there is a terrifying bump in the night. For every indulgent game of Mario Kart there is the lack of a response from the couch next to you when you exclaim "I just killed you with that red shell!" And there is the constant fear that you'll become just a little too comfortable with being alone and the next thing you know you're setting a place for your cat at the dinner table and leaving your toenail clippings on the coffee table.
I don't think humans are solitary creatures. I'm pretty confident that one day I'll do all of those fall-in-love and have-a-family type things, so I'm not completely terrified about the future. But I think sometimes the fear of being alone is so great that we actually embrace it. I'm so happy that I've gotten to know myself even better in this last month of domestic solitude, but even if I was the coolest person on Earth - one is still the loneliest number.
Gotta run - there's a spoonful of PB&J waiting for me in the kitchen.
Mike
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Into the Wild
I know I have not updated in the last week. It was not for lack of trying - I just happened to be in one of the few places on Earth where there was no wireless internet. And it was kind of refreshing - it was nice not to be a slave to my inbox. I remember a couple of years back I was vacationing with my family in Canada. (Like 10 years back, now that I think about it. Scary.) Anyways, we spent two weeks on an island in the middle of a lake and did not even have phones, let alone the internet. I remember struggling to find a newspaper every day so that I could read the French Open scores. How far away that seems now. Every second, we're reachable in about 15 different ways. And if you can't get a hold of someone in a couple of hours, God forbid, well they must (a) be ignoring you, (b) hate you, or (c) be dead.
Well, if you can't reach me, I don't hate you and hopefully I'm not dead. I've just never been a fan of instant accessibility. Many of my friends know that I refuse to listen to voicemails. I have a phobia against one-way conversation. I think it is because I'm extremely sensitive, but I freak out when someone has the ability to say whatever they want to me without fear of response. This is especially odd because I can't think of a single person I'm in conflict with - but who said fears were rational?
Okay - enough of that babbling. The reason I was out of touch this week was because I finally made it out of the city of Johannesburg and into the South African countryside. I can't share details of the conference, but I can certainly talk about myself and my personal experiences. I rode down to the conference in a borrowed Audi with my boss and his brother/business partner, John. We were supposed to be in a party bus with the rest of our office's management team but the bus company got the order wrong and sent a bus more suited to a Junior prom. Since Graham (my boss), John, and I technically work for the holding company and not Jupiter-Johannesburg, we separated ourselves and took a car down.
The first thing I noticed when heading out of the city were the giant golden plateaus to the side of the N1 highway, on which we were traveling south. Graham explained to me that these were deposits left over from when Johannesburg was colonized and mined. It gives the environment a desolate, alien feeling - seeing nothing for miles aside from these huge man-made plateaus.
I'd been concerned when I found out that I'd have to ride with my boss and his brother. It is one thing to put your best foot forward in the office - I can show up bathed, polished, caffeinated and smiling day after day. My usual car behavior consists of leaning my head back and snoring Homer Simpson style. I also love to eat while in the car, and I need to stop once an hour to pee. Roadside distractions attract me like a fly on a sugar cube and I hate it when the radio is too loud. I always bring several magazines, books, and Nintendo DS games so I can accommodate my finicky taste in entertainment. None of these personality traits were things I wanted to show off to the boss man. And what if, God forbid, I fell asleep and passed gas or something horrifying like that? I'd fire anyone that farted in a car with me.
Well, about 20 minutes in John pulled into a petrol station and Graham ran in to get some coffee. On one hand, I love that the man already knows I'm addicted to coffee - he even knows how I take it. On the other hand, I was hoping to dehydrate myself so the bladder didn't act up. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to stop and pee on a cactus because we were miles from civilization. We continued down the road and I was boggled by the size of the sky. It was like Montana - it just stretched for miles over the hot South African land. It would have been easy to imagine us bandits in the old west, if I hadn't been in an Audi with two men in business suits drinking a mocha. Not exactly John Wayne material.
About halfway down things started to get exciting. I looked up from my laptop (I was working on a presentation) and saw a field of ostriches! Like the bird! I'm kind of terrified of ostriches, what with their big people eyes and strange, hyper-active way of walking around. I yelped out - "are those ostriches??!!" Graham didn't even look up. And John, focused on driving and on the car's strange radio - which was in the habit of turning itself on to tell us about traffic updates - simply said - "probably" and shrugged. I made a note to myself to keep my excitement over the wildlife to a minimum. Unfortunately, I forgot to heed this note. Not five minutes later I wanted to scream "MEERKAT!" when one of the furry critters trundled across the road in front of us. In my heart of hearts I wanted to stop and beg them to let me out of the car so I could follow the little guy to Meerkat Manor, but I managed to hold back.
I'd like to say that my enjoyment of the wildlife stopped there. However, over the next three days, I further embarrassed myself with my antics. I've done a good job of being Business Mike so far in my job at Jupiter, but something about seeing exotic animals and plant-life pierced my armor. I can't imagine how I'll embarrass myself when I actually manage to see elephants and lions and tigers.
Overall, the conference was a large success. I bonded with a lot of the work people I didn't get to know yet and I learned a ton about how the company is run. It also taught me that as much as a try to act like a serious guy in the work environment, it would be just plain dumb for me to think that is who I really am. Why not be someone who is responsible in the office but will also dress up a stranger's pets and sing to their cows? My biggest problem with my job last year was that I tried to be so serious that I ended up losing what makes me me. Better for me to get all my work done and to be a little exciting on the side.
Speaking of exciting - I can't believe another Halloween has passed. Halloween is unfortunately not as big in South Africa as it is in the States. I really miss American Halloweens. For our work party, I dressed up as a marathon runner - basically because it was my gym outfit and I could go there right after the party. Haha. It made me miss the olden days of renting scary movies and dressing up at a friend's house. I went out to a bar following the work party, this time as a cowboy. I very nearly had a Bridget Jones-in-the-slut-suit moment because no one at the bar was dressed up. Luckily, every man in South Africa dresses like a cowboy so I actually just blended in. My hope is that next year (or as soon as possible) I can come home and have a real American Halloween.
I had better get out and run some errands - everything closes so early on Sunday. I'll write again soon - there are some really funny things going on in Johannesburg that I can't wait to share with people.
xoxoxoxoxo
Mike
Well, if you can't reach me, I don't hate you and hopefully I'm not dead. I've just never been a fan of instant accessibility. Many of my friends know that I refuse to listen to voicemails. I have a phobia against one-way conversation. I think it is because I'm extremely sensitive, but I freak out when someone has the ability to say whatever they want to me without fear of response. This is especially odd because I can't think of a single person I'm in conflict with - but who said fears were rational?
Okay - enough of that babbling. The reason I was out of touch this week was because I finally made it out of the city of Johannesburg and into the South African countryside. I can't share details of the conference, but I can certainly talk about myself and my personal experiences. I rode down to the conference in a borrowed Audi with my boss and his brother/business partner, John. We were supposed to be in a party bus with the rest of our office's management team but the bus company got the order wrong and sent a bus more suited to a Junior prom. Since Graham (my boss), John, and I technically work for the holding company and not Jupiter-Johannesburg, we separated ourselves and took a car down.
The first thing I noticed when heading out of the city were the giant golden plateaus to the side of the N1 highway, on which we were traveling south. Graham explained to me that these were deposits left over from when Johannesburg was colonized and mined. It gives the environment a desolate, alien feeling - seeing nothing for miles aside from these huge man-made plateaus.
I'd been concerned when I found out that I'd have to ride with my boss and his brother. It is one thing to put your best foot forward in the office - I can show up bathed, polished, caffeinated and smiling day after day. My usual car behavior consists of leaning my head back and snoring Homer Simpson style. I also love to eat while in the car, and I need to stop once an hour to pee. Roadside distractions attract me like a fly on a sugar cube and I hate it when the radio is too loud. I always bring several magazines, books, and Nintendo DS games so I can accommodate my finicky taste in entertainment. None of these personality traits were things I wanted to show off to the boss man. And what if, God forbid, I fell asleep and passed gas or something horrifying like that? I'd fire anyone that farted in a car with me.
Well, about 20 minutes in John pulled into a petrol station and Graham ran in to get some coffee. On one hand, I love that the man already knows I'm addicted to coffee - he even knows how I take it. On the other hand, I was hoping to dehydrate myself so the bladder didn't act up. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to stop and pee on a cactus because we were miles from civilization. We continued down the road and I was boggled by the size of the sky. It was like Montana - it just stretched for miles over the hot South African land. It would have been easy to imagine us bandits in the old west, if I hadn't been in an Audi with two men in business suits drinking a mocha. Not exactly John Wayne material.
About halfway down things started to get exciting. I looked up from my laptop (I was working on a presentation) and saw a field of ostriches! Like the bird! I'm kind of terrified of ostriches, what with their big people eyes and strange, hyper-active way of walking around. I yelped out - "are those ostriches??!!" Graham didn't even look up. And John, focused on driving and on the car's strange radio - which was in the habit of turning itself on to tell us about traffic updates - simply said - "probably" and shrugged. I made a note to myself to keep my excitement over the wildlife to a minimum. Unfortunately, I forgot to heed this note. Not five minutes later I wanted to scream "MEERKAT!" when one of the furry critters trundled across the road in front of us. In my heart of hearts I wanted to stop and beg them to let me out of the car so I could follow the little guy to Meerkat Manor, but I managed to hold back.
I'd like to say that my enjoyment of the wildlife stopped there. However, over the next three days, I further embarrassed myself with my antics. I've done a good job of being Business Mike so far in my job at Jupiter, but something about seeing exotic animals and plant-life pierced my armor. I can't imagine how I'll embarrass myself when I actually manage to see elephants and lions and tigers.
Overall, the conference was a large success. I bonded with a lot of the work people I didn't get to know yet and I learned a ton about how the company is run. It also taught me that as much as a try to act like a serious guy in the work environment, it would be just plain dumb for me to think that is who I really am. Why not be someone who is responsible in the office but will also dress up a stranger's pets and sing to their cows? My biggest problem with my job last year was that I tried to be so serious that I ended up losing what makes me me. Better for me to get all my work done and to be a little exciting on the side.
Speaking of exciting - I can't believe another Halloween has passed. Halloween is unfortunately not as big in South Africa as it is in the States. I really miss American Halloweens. For our work party, I dressed up as a marathon runner - basically because it was my gym outfit and I could go there right after the party. Haha. It made me miss the olden days of renting scary movies and dressing up at a friend's house. I went out to a bar following the work party, this time as a cowboy. I very nearly had a Bridget Jones-in-the-slut-suit moment because no one at the bar was dressed up. Luckily, every man in South Africa dresses like a cowboy so I actually just blended in. My hope is that next year (or as soon as possible) I can come home and have a real American Halloween.
I had better get out and run some errands - everything closes so early on Sunday. I'll write again soon - there are some really funny things going on in Johannesburg that I can't wait to share with people.
xoxoxoxoxo
Mike
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)