Advice Pt. 1

I decided to do my own version of Baz Luhrman's "Sunscreen," and start to give advice based on things I've learned from others and from my own experiences. Almost every piece of advice is something I aspire to, but I have carried out very few successfully thus far.

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Stretch when you wake up every day. Lean forward, slowly. Imagine your head is a weight that is slowly being pulled down to the ground, allow your arms to dangle. Bend your knees a little, stay there. Sway your arms back and forth, feel the stretch in your back. Slowly rise up, imagine you’re leaving space in between each vertebra and you’re stacking one on top of another. Allow your neck to follow, and finally lift your head. Inhale. Exhale.

Leave ten minutes earlier than you normally would when you’re walking to a destination. Walk slowly and look around; take in and enjoy everything that is around you. You’ll notice something new on your walk every day.

Always arrive early. It is better to wait for someone than to have someone wait for you.

When you see a penny heads up on the street, pick it up. When you see a penny heads down on the street, turn it over for the next person.

Hold hands.

Give people options when you're planning something, especially if they're not planners and they have an "I don't care what we do" mentality. Instead of saying "what do you want to do?," come up with some ideas, and name a place and time. Simplicity is key in planning.

Put your iPod on Shuffle once in a while. You may find a new song that you really love, or an old one that you really missed.

Go back and visit your teachers. They do not stop teaching you.

Drive with the windows down. Once you go over a certain speed it will get more expensive and cause the car to drag. Pay the extra few bucks to let the warm breeze whip your face and make your hair dance.

Use Sunday as the day of rest. Or any day of the week. Take that day to relax, reflect, and to recharge. Otherwise, might pass you by way too quickly.

Drink lots of water.

Living in the moment is unrealistic, you will always be thinking about tomorrow, or what you could have done better yesterday. It’s ok to not live in the moment; just try not to obsess over what you cannot change, or what you cannot predict.

Using “like” in conversation is bad grammar, and will quickly annoy whoever you’re having a conversation with.

Go to a religious service because you want to, not because you have to.

Sing at the top of your lungs. Blast music so that your neighbors can hear it. Close your eyes and dance around the room. Then after all that, lay down, breathe the music in and let it fill you.

Hug.

Always give a firm handshake. It shows confidence and respect. It says “I am here, I have something to say or do, and I am genuinely interested in what you have to say or do.”

Take enough pictures so that you can savor the memories, but don’t take too many so that you miss out on what’s in front of your eyes at the present time.

Remember those who have helped you. Be there for them in return.

Always set your alarm for the time you want to wake up the next morning before you go to a party.

If you are uncomfortable with someone simply because they are different than you, have a conversation with them. Try to understand why you’re uncomfortable with them.

Take time to look at old photographs and scrapbooks.

Try taking a different route every time you venture somewhere, especially if you’re in a city with blocks. You will find some of the most interesting people and places that you will every experience.
Watch old Disney movies with your friends.

Do not text while you’re driving. If you make one mistake because you were looking down at your phone instead of at the road, the burden will hang on your head for a lifetime. All because of a text.

If you need to text while you’re having a face to face conversation with someone, say “excuse me.”

Call people if you want to say something, don’t text them. Cell phone texting is a technology that is allowing humans to distance themselves from one another. It also puts a delay in time and can cause huge unnecessary miscommunication. For God’s sake, pick up the phone.

Swim.

That whole “sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me” is bullshit sometimes. When you can, be the better person and walk away from the situation; don’t give your antagonist the attention they want. When you can’t, stick up for yourself and say something right back to put them in their place.

Introduce your friends to one another when it’s necessary; don’t just let them stand there. If your friend is like me, they will introduce themselves and you’ll feel like an idiot. If not, both friends will stand there awkwardly.

Life is not a movie. Life is not a movie. Life is not a movie. This is one of the hardest things I will ever have to learn, and I may never fully learn it.

Movies, books, art works, television shows, greeting cards, plays, and songs derive from life’s occurrences. Their content must therefore not be disregarded as nonsense and feeble attempts at perfection, but understood as a heightened sense of reality that allows humans to see reflections of themselves in characters and situations. These media act as common denominators and enable us to connect with one another, providing a forum for dialogue and commentary of society.

Smile, even if it’s a little white lie. You never know when it may brighten someone’s day.

Carry around a little notepad or sketchbook with you, wherever you go. Write, draw, create, imagine.

If you’re a freshman in college, or at a new job, and you have a physical door, keep it open. Some of the closest friends I have today were made because I left my door opened and they just wandered in.

Listen.

Sunscreen and Ferris Bueller

This is a song that has always been one of my favorites. I heard it for the first time today in a long time, and it just made me really happy. If you know someone that's having a bad day, send them the lyrics to this song. It's bound to cheer them up one way or another.



Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
than my own meandering
experience…I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you
imagine. Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday. Do one thing everyday that scares you Sing Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours. Floss Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes
you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with
yourself. Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you
succeed in doing this, tell me how. Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements. Stretch Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t. Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone. Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s. Enjoy your body,
use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people
think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.. Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room. Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them. Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly. Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the
people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young. Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel. Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will
philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble and children respected their elders. Respect your elders. Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,
maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one
might run out. Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85. Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than
it’s worth. But trust me on the sunscreen…




I also watched the Oscars tonight, and saw this clip from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Cliche, but so true...

The Day of Rest

I’m already sort of failing on my new year’s resolution. Surprise, surprise. This was to really use Sunday as a day of rest. I think that everyone should do this; religion aside. Everyone, in the world, should take one day out of their week to relax, and to reflect. That is why I write on Sundays. I write all the time, or at least I like to jot down notes in the moleskin book I carry around. But I take Sunday as the day to sleep in, relax, but most importantly reflect. And I reflect by writing. The majority of Western society moves at a ridiculously fast pace. We will our schedules up with work, exercise, school, extracurricular activities, social events. It’s go go go go go. But if we all took time to slow down and digest it all, once a week, it might make us realize how fast we’re going. It might allow us to ask ourselves why we feel the need to go so fast. The mind can only handle and process a certain amount of information at one time. If we take no time to reflect on a conversation or an experience we had that week or that day, it might get lost somewhere in the cracks. We worry so much about getting from place to place, or from one event to another, that we forget to enjoy the process of getting there, or the time in between.

For example, let’s say I have a class at 9:00 on Monday mornings. I set my alarm for 8:00, I wake up, then I set it for an additional 15 minutes. I then find myself running out the door and walking extremely fast-paced to my class. By the time I get there, I’m panting, my legs hurt, and I have two seconds to grab a coffee before I go upstairs. Because of instances like this, I find myself walking fast all the time. The solution: actually wake up at 8:00. I need to be much more conscious of setting my mind to leave 5-10 minutes earlier. During that walk, I’m way too focused on being on time, making it to the ATM or making time to get a coffee.

At the end of the day, after class it’s different. I turn on music and I walk home. Then I realize how fast I’m walking, and I walk slower. I try to be deliberate and almost painstakingly slow in my walk back; anyone who walks behind me probably thinks “what an asshole, walk faster.” But it’s incredible how much more I notice. Tonight I was walking home from a friend’s house, and I literally decided to stop and look at the baseball field across from my apartment. And I smelled the grass; it reminded me so much of home and playing soccer and just being outside. Moments like that really allow me to reflect and just have a moment in which I can remember so many happy moments I've had simply by being near grass.



People hate sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, and while they’re in that transition period from one place to another they worry so much about timing. Think about it this way; there’s absolutely no way to control it, it’s an inalienable truth. So why not enjoy it? Why not look around at the different people in the cars, or just look at all the trees outside your car window, or hear all the birds or feel the breeze as you roll the windows down and listen to your favorite song?
Sundays are like the car ride or the walk home. They’re a transition period. If you’re in college, Sunday is most likely a recovery day from a good weekend, but then it’s also a day to do all your homework and studying. We end up staying up late, and then having an awful start to the week because we were up so late. It’s a vicious cycle. They’re just another day to get through, just like a walk or a drive to get from point A to point B. Instead, what I’ve tried doing is getting my homework done during the week, and yes, even on Saturday morning or afternoon, so I can use Sunday to do this sort of thing. It’s going to be 55 degrees in Philadelphia tomorrow, and I know that I want to start being outside.



I’ve really only done this reflecting/relaxing thing on two Sundays out of the past 2 months, but I’m getting better. I suggest you try it. Who knows? It might help you have a better week and a better, healthier lifestyle in general.

Trojan's Slogans

Original post intended for The Cherry and What blog.

Warning: this is inappropriate. Enjoy!

I don't even like the NBA

I've talked about commercials before, so here is another really sick one featuring Usher. I don't even like watching the NBA, and I still found this to be one of the most awesome, driving commercials that I've ever seen. And now I need to go download the song.

Enjoy!

The Science of Magic

Has science damaged us or enlightened us?
Centuries pass. Millenia pass.
What was once magic
Is now a formula.
Is now technology.
What was once mystery
Is now a calculation.
Is now a definition.
What was once an enigma
Is now a hypothesis.
Is now a chemical reaction.
Invisibility is impossible.
Teleportation is impossible.
Flying is impossible.



But is it?
Jesus physically healed the sick.
Moses physically parted the sea.
That was 2000 years ago.
Homer, Shakespeare, Washington
Might have considered a computer
To be witchcraft.
To be an illusion.
But is it an illusion?




We must ask ourselves this.
Do we want to know why
Do we want to know how
The sky is blue?
The sunset is red?
The planets orbit?
The water reflects?
The brain thinks?
The mind creates?
The body heals?
The stars glint?
The breeze blows?
the leaves change?
The clouds snow?
The child laughs?
The person dies?
The "V" flies?
The mirror reflects?
The flower smells?
The glaciers form?
The volcanoes erupt?
The rainbow exists?
The diamonds glisten?
The water freezes?
The lightning strikes?
The thunder rumbles?
The fire burns?
The sun rises?



Do we want to know
the mysteries?
Do we want to know
why and how God exists?
Must we see to believe?
Where do we draw the line?
When will magic become reality?
Are noetics, geology, astronomy,
biology, physics, chemistry,
radiology, geometry, psycology
progressive?
If there were other life forms
That came to us
from another world
would we believe?
Would that destroy God?




We must know
We must be progressive.
The magic is not ruined,
It is explained.
It helps us to create
Our own magic.
Does knowing why
the rainbow forms
destroy its beauty?
No.
Understanding of a rainbow
Allows us to capture light
And create our own beauty.
Does knowing why the
Brain works
Destroy its potential?
No.
Understanding the mind and body
Allows us to save lives.
Does knowing why the
Stars shine
Dim their luster and awe?
No.
Understanding the stars
Helps us to navigate.
And to explore.



Mystery and science
are not opposites.
Religion and science
are not opposites.
In order to understand
We must believe.
In order to believe
We must have faith.
That is the magic of science.
Or is it
The science of magic?

Grunge! Digital Art!

So I didn't think there was actually a name for the style of my favorite kind of modern artwork. I would always just Google (amazing how that has become a verb now, maybe I'll write about that in the other blog) "abstract city background" and this is what I would get.



And I was like ("I was like" has officially replaced "I thought" or "I said" nowadays too) whoahthisisreallycool! Granted, I am very easily amused, but I looked up more of this stuff and discovered it is technically called "digital art" or "grunge". It kind of goes along with the genre of alternative music by the same title. Here's some of my favorite stuff I've seen online so far.







It's sick. Like Pollock...but with pictures. I want to make some!

Tangible Memory

Sometimes when we write, we just want something magical to happen on paper. We want to write something epic, something that will be all-inspiring or maybe something quotable for future generations. I have slowly come to realize that this “planned writing” is not how it really works. I’m pretty sure Whitman, Tolkien and Rowling did not plan out something epic, at least at first. Shakespeare might be a different story, but whatever.

I write because I like to reflect. I say that, but then at the same time, I can’t remember the last time I went back and read a previous piece of my work (except my blog, but I think that’s just because I do it to see if there are any spelling errors). I feel like there isn’t time. Of course I always have the intention to read journal entries from a class or an essay that got a really good grade or a poem that won some sort of award, but I don’t make time for it.

Some people write to spill out their words and organize their thoughts in front of them. I guess I do that too. Tonight I just wanted to write something because it was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, and I simply want to remember it. Will I read this again? Probably, but only because it is the first time I’ve written about how I usually don’t read stuff that was originally intended to be re-read. I need to double check that last sentence to see if it made any sort of sense. You may need to read it a few times.

Here’s my fundamental problem. I want to remember everything. Yet I also want to live in the now. If I could, I would have two lives. I’d actually have ten, to fulfill my different interests, but for the sake of your sanity and time I will just describe two.

The first life would be the one that you’d expect for the average person on earth (if there is such a thing). That would be to be born, raised, have a childhood, grow and learn and experience, hopefully pass on those learned things to the next generation (whether you have kids or not), and die, whether young or old. In that life I would travel and experience all that life has to offer. Bah, such a cliché sentence. Let me elaborate.

Travel: whether I travel to my neighbor’s house or to Australia, I will still learn from and be inspired by the conversation I have there or the surroundings in which I’m placed. Experience all that life has to offer: … the ellipse stands for the past minute that has gone by in which I’ve tried to figure out exactly what I mean by that. I suppose I mean the first part of this paragraph; having conversations with people and learning from their experiences. Agreeing or disagreeing. Arguing whether or not different aspects of pop culture reflect society and in what ways. It means, for me, laughing with friends and starting a family.

Still in first life mode? Still with me? Good. In that first life I would photograph and document all my travels, videotape my life and the life of my family. I would write and write and write and reflect and reflect and reflect upon thousands of encounters and occurrences. The plan is to successfully accomplish all the aforementioned pieces of my life. To live, document, and die. For those of you that know me; I already do that.

In that second life, I would sit down in a big rocking chair on a back porch in the afternoon, or on a big comfy couch sitting next to a Christmas tree (like the one I am now sitting beside in my living room), and I would sit with a pile of all the documentation of my life. This would essentially be tangible memory. In front of me would be a large screen with all the photos of my life that have either been taken by my family or by me. In addition to that I would, of course, have some of my favorite songs playing. You know what, hell, it would be one huge slideshow. Roll your eyes now, for those that know me. Ready…go. Ya done? Ok good. Not only a slideshow though. The slideshow would need to pause for videos and physical documentation. The tangible memory would all be in chronological order.

First, after baby videos and pictures of course, would come the little finger paintings. Then would come a nice stick figure drawing, mixed in with some more birthday pictures. Then would come sloppy handwriting, report cards, favorite foods, and pictures in which I didn’t color in the lines. Then would come some nicer handwriting and even some practice cursive, some more photos with family and my first birthday party with friends from school, then little poems we were supposed to write about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Then would come Halloween costumes. Then the report cards would turn from check marks into letter grades, then from letter grades into numbers. Photos would become digital, and scraps of paper would become a computers like the one I am now typing on. Songs would change from the Backstreet Boys to Simple Plan to Dave Matthews Band to Coldplay to Lady Gaga and Frank Sinatra.

The pictures would first feature baby formula. Sippy cups would be replaced by the Disney collector’s cups from McDonald's. Those would be replaced with soda cans and Gatorade bottles. Those would be replaced with red cups (and even another pink sippy cup that my friends bought me in Disney world. Whenever I have adult drinks with them I have to drink out of this sippy cup). Red cups would be replaced with pitchers during happy hour, then again with champagne and wine glasses. Then the sippy cups and baby formula would start over again.



Pudgy baby cheeks would stretch out and strands of hair would begin to grow through the flesh. The hair on the face would eventually be sliced with a straight-edge but would continue to grow. The hair would be a dark brown mixed with some red (thank you Italian/Irish/Mexican ancestors), and then would slowly turn into a salt and pepper. Then it would turn gray. Then white. Then it would start to fall out, or be shaved completely down to the skin more often. Then the cheeks would begin to sag and to grow soft again. They would come full circle and return to their smooth, pudgy state.

I would see words turn into sentences. Then sentences would turn into paragraphs and paragraphs into essays. Adverbs, descriptors, words that awaken all the senses would be used. The writing would turn from kindergarten slop to third grade cursive. It would transfer from English to Spanish and then into Italian. The space between the lines would grow smaller and smaller, and eventually the lines would vanish and be replaced by double or single spacing on a computer screen. The words would appear on Xeroxed copies of sheet music. They would be posted on Xanga, on Myspace, on Facebook, on nice printed paper, in Newspaper articles, on blogs. They would turn into thank you cards and follow up emails for job interviews. Then they would go back to being sloppy letters jumbled together on a scrap of paper for wedding vows. Those scraps of paper would turn into the scraps of paper that have the potential names of my children written on them. One scrap would make it through to the final round of baby naming, and one word from that scrap would end up on a birth certificate. Then the words would organize themselves into a list for my will. Then the words would be sent out in an e-mail or in a note, extending a word-of-mouth notification of my death or announcement of my funeral. They would appear again in a newspaper as an obituary. Then they would be read off of a scrap of paper read by one of my children or off of sheet music sung by friends during the service.

And I would spend this second life reading these words and sentences and pages, scrolling through these pictures, eating this food, listening to these songs, watching these videos. To do all this within the first lifetime would be virtually impossible, unless I decided to stop living the first life at a certain point and chose to sit in a room and look at all of my past adventures until death. It seems unfair that as living beings we are given life but must choose, whether consciously or unconsciously, when and how much time is devoted to reflecting upon it.
Maybe that’s what heaven is for.

Hold on. On second thought, there would need to be three lives. Or at least an extension of the second. Here’s the only problem I have with life numero dos thus far…I’m the only one that’s watching it and looking at all the tangible memory. Granted, it is my life, and about 75% of it will not be interesting to anyone else. My family would probably see all of the documentation (maybe skip over the red-cup era), and my friends would see the ones starting in elementary school. Reflecting with friends is what got me started on this ridiculously long and reflective piece of writing. Xanga-entry…go.

Tonight was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. The best part was that there was absolutely nothing extraordinary about it and no alcohol was involved. I went to a pot-luck with some friends from high school, many of which I haven’t seen since this time last year and some of which I will not see until early 2011. They are not my closest friends, but we just had one of those nights where your bladder or mouth full of beverage is going to explode from laughter. The night consisted of anything you’d expect; wild storytelling, recollections of fantastic and terrible high school teachers and bad jokes. Names of people that graduated a year ahead of me were thrown around. Some were at school, some were working, some were in the military, a few were engaged or married, a few had children, some I did not recognize the names of at all. The part of the night that really got me thinking was the series of “remember whens?”



Is it scary to think I’ll be 21 eight months from tomorrow? Yeah. But everyone talks about that. It just happens. The third life would be to sit and to talk about all that has happened with each of our slideshows and documentation and how they weave in and out of each other. We’re starting to do that now. Here’s something that blew my mind. Will the conversations we have at this annual pot-luck be constant? Will it consist only of “remember whens” from high school? Time will progress, but will the conversations be frozen in time and space? Will the stories that come up be akin to a catalog that we can pick and choose from? Will it ever get to the point where we begin to say “remember when we talked about all those stories from high school?”

Or, will new stories develop? Will this year’s jokes and stupid moments turn into “remember whens” of next year? I would like to think that this is what will happen. It probably will happen. Am I worried about what the conversation will be like in a year? Of course not, what’s the point in doing that? All I know is that I’ll be sitting with my friends and talking and laughing. Forget the third life for now; because that’s already happening in the first one.

The Bachelor vs. The Average Joe

You're in for a blast from the past: A Xanga-style venting post. Shows like The Bachelor really piss me off. I saw about a dozen commercials for it today. And there are two questions that run through my head:

1- How many of those relationships last afterwards?

2- FML...I wish I could look like that guy. Gents, you know it's true. Do we live in a society where body images like that are what we aspire to be?



For those that are curious about question one (or that don't have any common sense and therefore don't know the answer already), the answer is that there's 1 marriage. Out of 17 between The Bachelor and The Bachelorette.

As to the second question the answer is hells yes. But I'm not really going to preach about that, because everyone already does. Do you think that the Greeks really looked like their sculptures? Absolutely not, it's just what they aspired to be. The gods must have been jacked.

Now fellas, you know and I know, even though it's hard to admit, we all can get a sense of when another guy is good-looking. He's usually the douche-bag wearing a New Era flat-brim in the corner of the room making out with a girl who might as well be wearing a T-shirt instead of her dress...You know who you are. Sorry if you're one of them, like you'd be reading this blog anyway.

On the other hand he could also be the guy in high school that is good at absolutely everything and is extremely athletic and top in the class and is just an all around nice guy. Those kind are the worst because you can't fault them and can't blame them, but you just want to hate them because they're good looking and they've got everything you don't. Girls, you are 10 times worse in this situation.

Am I ever going to look like that? No, and that's totally ok, I choose pizza and lasagna over the bod. But still, sometimes it just sucks, and you really want to just be able to look like those guys on the Bachelor or another reality show. Granted, those people only makeup about 2% of the male population, but they're plastered enough on the TV and magazines that it feels like 90%. Next thing you know they're gonna come out with 300 in 3D (which would be SICK, by the way), and I'm gonna have blood and Gerard Butler's biceps and pecs literally shoved in my face.

Screw the Greeks for making muscles. All those sculptures have small genitals anyway. Score 1 for the 21st century average Joe.

Spartans on 'roids



A Greek sculpture of Laocoon and His Sons