I got back to Manhattan on Wednesday night, and- as always- Jake had a delicious meal waiting: bowtie pasta with chicken sausage, spinach walnut salad, and brownies. Thursday morning, I took a trip to Foodtown, (which smells more disgusting than ever) to stock up on groceries. Since I have a hard time choking down tuna, I decided to go with the canned chicken, thinking it might be a bit more palatable.
For Thursday lunch, Jake decided we should have tuna sandwiches, and he pulled out two cans: his tuna, and my chicken. I pointed out that my can was chicken and that he might not want to mix them, to which he pointed out that my can was- in fact- tuna as well. Although the can said "Chicken of the Sea," it is actually tuna.
Hmmm. I wonder if this has ever happened to anyone else.

I AM RICH AND BEAUTIFUL

Today, I was stopped once again by the Obamarama Squad. Despite the fact that on any given afternoon, there are literally thousands of people swarming Columbus Circle, they are apparently all better than me at looking stingy. I will now document my history of being stopped on the street in New York, because apparently I seem- to the approaching stranger- both kind, and rich.

Today, second day in a row, I was asked to not only donate to the grass roots Obama campaign, but was startled that both people, after 5 minutes of engaging rally-cry, asked me to donate $28,500. (the legal limit on campaign donations) But they did offer an alternative, just in case I didn't happen to have that amount on hand. Something as small as $2,500 was also much appreciated. The hilarity. I was really amused by this approach the first day, and almost proud of the girl for being so spunky and audacious. (She was getting the point across that 70% of McCains private campaign contributions actually have been for that maximum legal amount.) But the day 2 guy did the same thing, and so I realized that it must have been some kind of group strategy, and then my pride in the originality of day 1 girl unfortunately faded. (Unless, that is, she masterminded the approach) I didn't give any money, but I do find it amusing that before the girl mentioned any dollar amounts, I figured she wanted like $5. And in hindsight, I'm sure she did.
In the past:
Lincoln Center: stopped by roving reporter for local news, asked to comment on the freezing temperatures. Declined. (should have done it but I felt really ugly that day and didn't want to be on camera)

Columbus Circle: Asked to give $35 a month to support a Honduran girl. Accepted. (I get her letters)

Met Plaza: Stopped by spanish speaking homeless man with AIDS. Asked to buy his $200 meds. Declined.

54th St: Asked to donate to a homeless cat foundation by a girl who put me through the ringer when I..... Declined.

Juilliard Plaza: approached by the ever-glamorous Abercrombie recruiters to work at the store. Declined.

Lincoln Center: approached on subway by elderly couple who asked to be helped up the stairs and escorted to Avery Fisher. Declined.

(just kidding I totally accepted that last one)
Times Square: mean homeless woman asked for my gloves. I gave them.

I personally think I look like a mean person when I'm out and about. Looks like I need to try much harder.

Because my last post was mildly depressing, (though reinvigorated with hope in it's final stanzas) I decided that today- finding myself ecstatic- I'd make a quick list of the things that are making my life really, really good these days.
1. My little sister Kim who somehow transitioned seamlessly into a beautiful, hilarious, intelligent young-lady, virtually without my knowing it (and much sooner than expected)
2. A certain Canadian super-hero that calls himself Trio, though I prefer to think of him as World Defender {or in his regular life disguise, as Nemanja}
3. Rediscovering a tremendous addiction to distance swimming in the sparkling waters of Lake Winnipesaukee.
4. A developing love affair with the following foods: pad thai, green tea, feta cheese, (well, stinky cheeses of every variety) new hampshire plums.
5. My continuing love affair with every other kind of food. Particularly from McDonalds

and the following: Beethoven Violin Concerto, my first-ever tan, the disappearance of my joint pain, late night phone calls, someone who prepares my food and cleans my dishes (Brewster Cafeteria) great deals at Express for Men, my impending return to Gotham, and Keenanonie's new baby (due any second).

Growing Up

(My computer setting is wrong. It's actually Monday, July 28th, 2008)
I started my first journal at 16, and wrote faithfully. Interestingly, it's not the entries themselves that stir up recollections, but acually, recalling my state of mind when I would write..... a night in the basement of the scholarship house in Logan; I would have been 16. I have no idea what I was writing about that particular night, but I can watch myself in my head- like an old home video- and remember exactly how i used to be in those days. I had no concept of time, or planning. I was just a naturally gifted over-achiever, and my mind was so unfettered by worry that i absorbed things instantly. I remember learning Rachmaninoff Etudes in a matter of days, and with minimal forced effort. It just never occurred to me that it was hard, or that it should be hard, or that I might not be able to do it. I was never tired. I always thought things would work out.

How come I never think things will work out anymore? How come I expect failure. I'm a firm believer that if you expect failure, you'll surely get it. So I definitely work at things like I want to suceed- I go about the process with a believer's approach- but deep down, I always expect to fail.

Some people consider this a healthy approach. It ensures that reality is always at the root of our actions, and then offers the opportunity for genuine surprise and satisfaction when there is success.

Basically, you get disappointed less. Right? Or is it that life in general becomes disappointing, and thus individual disappointments don't cause a blip on the radar?

Now- here's what i realize: 1. I have a tendency to write in my blog/journal when
I'm feeling down. 2. My emotional states are hyper-fleeting. But, a general, constant pessimism has plagued my twenties. And I need it gone.

I guess it takes a huge amount of courage. Most meaningful things require a leap into the unknown. If you think you'll fail, you usually give up before arrival at the courage steps. Like when Indy has to step off the edge onto the invisible bridge. And sometimes you go for the courage steps and still fail. So maybe you have to change life's scorecard- so that your value doesn't depend directly upon whether your courageous moves proved successful,but more broadly, on whether you live your life courageously. That way, you might fail over and over, but your sense of self stays in tact because you've placed the value on the virue, not the event.

Ok. Big Breath. I think I really believe this. That doesn't mean I'm not going to cry a little bit before I step off the edge. But I'll keep stepping off the edge.

Last Friday night- as I packed for my Yellowstone camping adventure, I envisioned the last time I was there in 2003 with blooming flowers/river swimming/sunburning etc. So I packed my little backpack with 3 wife beaters, 2 t-shirts, and a pair of shorts. Just before leaving- dad handed me a rain slicker which he suggested I take, and owing (fortunately) to my chilly 5 am departure, I wore jeans and a hoodie 'just for the drive.' Nonie's sister Meredith who made our campsite reservations had spoken on the phone with a delightful Irish-woman who touted our 'right-on-the-lake' campsite and suggested we rent canoes etc etc.

Well, if my foresadowing hasn't been sufficient, refer to the exhibit above, taken on our second to last day..... of Old Faithful!!!! As we drove further into the park on day one, we scraped for logical reasons why it would be warm at sunny at our campstie, but as the massive toothpaste swirls of snow grew taller than the car, and Lake Yellowstone proved to be one solid brick of ice, we realized that canoeing was off the agenda, and that our dear Irish woman was probably actually IN Ireland.... an out-sourced phone operator reading to us from a pamphlet.

At least I got to use my wife-beaters; all of them at once. Now I'm being pretty melodrammatic, and that- of course- is not Old Faithful, but the snow and the frozen lake are not exaggerations. This global warming is really screwing things up.

It was a spectacular trip with my dearest friends. Thanks Keenanonie for planning the whole thing and then just telling me when to show up. We ate great food, had great converstation, and became experts at building fires in soggy fire pits with soggy wood and soggy fingers. Nonie even managed- and I kid you not- to start a raging fire, in those conditions, without a match. She just has really hot breath. (and hair)

One of the best trips ever!

I discovered this photo a couple days ago. It flooded my mind with visions of my former self. This picture is from March 2004, playing with the USU Symphony on tour in St. George- the entrance and bow before I sat down to play Rachmaninoff 2nd. I see that guy, and it really does seem like..... ADAM version 3.3.4. But I have- as always- that notion that I was not just different then, but, better then. I've spent a few days trying to decided why this may or may not be true.

First off..... the hair. Looks cool huh? I pulled off skater shag pretty good, and even managed to make it look dressy enough for a tux. The tux: hiding a body that was probably twenty pounds lighter than now. I can unabashedly admit- since I've already expounded upon my unique drug addiction in previous posts- that I played this performance under the influence of beta blockers. As a matter of fact- I just remembered- this was my FIRST time ever performing using them; and it was a magically good performance. Sparked the addiction I guess.

At this time, I was desperately trying to be in love with a girl. To the point of despair. I was extremely insecure and self-conscious on the inside- though still outwardly confident. I was incredibly disciplined with my practice and school work... my existence a complete mystery to my three roommates that couldn't figure out why I was so evasive and introverted. I was definitely more sensitive, more unselfish, more innocent, more tormented, more fearing, more pure.

ADAM version 5.8.8: uglier (unfortunately), more muscles/more vain, somewhat fearless, still substantially tormented, better pianist, darker, openly gay, more confident (inwardly and outwardly) more compassionate, more capable, less faithful in God, more faithful in myself, more impulsive/compulsive, less consistent, more two-faced.

Main goals for future versions: more constant, less dark, more faith in myself, more faith in God.

Last weekend, I spent the night at Dad and Teri's place. On Friday, Teri informed me that I'd be sharing my bed with Ryker. He is almost three, loves to be thrown around endlessly, and has the sweetest little hoarse speaking voice. He and I have been pretty good buds, and I am who he comes to every time he wants nuts (he's addicted to almonds) and saltines. He's especially fun when he gets up in the morning with his crusty eyes and footy pajamas and he's usually really cheery. So I was pretty excited to have him over.
WELL.
Now I know better. Ryker didn't sleep in the bed- he was in a little pen on the floor. He woke up in the night with the STINKIEST, fullest diaper of all time- and when he looked up and saw that I wasn't his dad- he freaked out. I picked him up to try to calm him down, but he squirmed and screamed and smacked at me. Grandma Teri showed up to change his diaper, and was trying to remind him who I was... to no avail. So she said I probably ought to stay out of the room until he went back to sleep. So I went down and sat on the couch for a while. When I figured he was out- I went back in to find that Teri had left the dirty diaper inside, like a mammoth air freshener. ( which I set right outside the door in the hallway so that the entire house might benefit) And then went to sleep. 3 am. With the light on.
Ryker is no longer my favorite. He'll have to to earn that back.