The Procrastination Tango

Last weekend I made a little road trip to Tampa. Ordinarily, for a seasoned road traveler like myself, this measly 4 hour trip is nothing to write home about. But, this time, there were two reasons to write blog about: the occasion for the trip was extra momentous, and, along the way, Foxy the Hyundai Accent had her own very special moment.

Good ol' Foxy crossed the 20,000 mile mark! She's in her 20's! "You and me, 20g!" is what I said as I caressed her dashboard, took a picture, and shed a tear. Lost in reverie (I mean, focused on the road... defensive driving... 10 and 2), I missed the actual moment the odometer clicked over to 20000, but 20006 is close enough, right? Anyway, I was emotional because, in a lot of ways, Foxy's been my best friend for the last couple years. We've seen a lot, her and I. She held me safely and comfortably in the front seat and carried a heavy burden of my crap in the back as we drove across the country twice in her first year. She got me through mountains and snow, rain and wind, the desert and the Midwest, good times and bad. She came from Jersey, survived West Virginia, and waited patiently for weeks on end in the parking garage of a Safeway in San Francisco. She starts up every time, with pep in her step and NPR on her radio. She is the longest-term commitment I've ever had... When she crossed 20,000 miles, I was proud of her, and of me.

And last weekend, of all things, we were on our way to my real best friend's wedding. This was the momentous occasion for going to Tampa. My friend Mitch was getting married. MARRIED. HOLY SHIT. Now, that's a real commitment. I love Foxy and all, but at the end of the day I don't have to share a bathroom with her.

So it was I arrived in Tampa. Ready to celebrate my friend's joyous day and to do justice to the long, proud tradition of drunken groomsman. I hadn't been part of a wedding since I was a 4-year-old ring bearer carrying a pillow with a fake plastic ring tied to it. I was pissed at my Uncle (it was his wedding) about the fake ring then, and I'm still pissed about it now. I could have been trusted with the real ring dammit! I was a responsible little kid! I felt like a shmuck walking down the aisle with a fake ring... but I digress.

During this ceremony, all I really had to do was wear a suit and a yarmulke, and walk one of the bridesmaids down the aisle. Mitch and Amy stood under the chuppah, the Rabbi said some things, Mitch broke the glass, as Jews are wont to do, and all rejoiced. It was a beautiful day as two lives became joined as one.

The reception began with the ceremonial lifting of bride and groom on chairs, as seen in the Fiddler on the Roof clip linked above. Watch that clip! I was on groom chair duty and was apparently almost crushed by the bride's chair, to the horror of helpless onlookers. They tell me I was a hair's breadth away from a concussion. I'm just glad I didn't drop him, given that I had no advance warning there was going to be heavy lifting involved. I hadn't limbered up!

After this bit, the DJ started in with the line dancing songs and I suddenly knew why groomsmen needed to be so drunk. Or, why this particular groomsmen needed a few good drinks, anyway. I wanted to enjoy this party, and for better or worse (till death do us part?) booze was going to be necessary. So, I started in with the cocktails and was eventually putting vodka in coffee. Not bad! Well, it did the trick anyway, and even got me out on the dance floor a few times... By the way, what the hell does it mean to "do the Charlie Brown"? Nevermind, I don't want to know. I'm happy I don't know those kinds of things.

Awww.... Look at them. They're happy! And I'm super happy for them. I know this is what Mitch has wanted for a long time. It's weird though, isn't it? We're getting married now, huh? We're at that time in our lives? When the shit did that happen? I sure don't feel like I'm there, yet. I mean, getting fuckin' married?! Yikes. I can hardly imagine. Oh sure, I want love and I want a family... someday. But, it's awful hard for me to imagine doing that, like, today.

After all, "why do today what you can put off 'till tomorrow," right? I am pro-procrastination! Just say no to anti-procrastination! Follow?

In fact, this blog is a public display of procrastination. And I procrastinated privately before getting to this procrastination (Mitch's wedding was actually two weekends ago). But the point remains: if I wasn't writing this, I could be doing homework, applying for jobs, volunteering at a soup kitchen, learning to play guitar, curing cancer, or finding a woman with whom I might procrastinate or procreate with, whichever came first. (Insert coming first joke here) (Insert insertion joke here)

To me, though, there is a beauty in procrastination. If done correctly, it can transcend mere laziness to become an act of defiance essential to restoring elements of our humanity that the rush, rush, plugged-in, workaday world slowly robs us of. It's my belief that we need down-time, that we need to be able to make the conscious choice to not do something. We need to be able to free ourselves from the nagging feeling that everything has to be done right-now-this-second.

Sure, I will eventually do the thing, but right now? No. No, I don't believe I will. I am going to choose when the hell I do that thing. I will get to it when I am good and goddamn ready. And, when I am ready (mentally or physically), and I do do the thing, I will inevitably do it better. Procrastination is a gathering of energies integral to my creative process.

Or, I'm just a lazy ass. Yeah... definitely could be that.

But, I don't think so! According to the theory I am espousing in this post, procrastination is a noble enterprise. A mind-freeing exercise in alternative thinking. To me, it's like dance. In order to dance well, you need to be able to free your mind of its conscious inhibitions. You have to break your body free of the shackles of the mind. I am not a dancer, but, as I said, I was forced into a dancing situation at Mitch's wedding... comfortable, I was not. However, after enough vodka-coffees, I was at least able to get out there. Procrastination is the vodka-coffee of my everyday life, freeing me up to do things I might not normally do.

It is my way of communing with god, or the universe, or nature, or whatever. As much as I'd like to pretend that, like Thoreau or Whitman, I get deep insights and inner-peace from a walk in the woods, I do not. When I walk in the woods all I get is bug bites and Deliverance derived anal rape paranoia. And I don't like getting dirty. No, I'm not a "nature guy." But, procrastination is my substitute. When I procrastinate, I am stepping out of humanity in order to restore my humanity. You won't catch me on a nature retreat, but you will often find me busily at work not working.

You buying this shit? Didn't think so. But you sure killed some time reading it! Congratulations!
And Mazel tov, Mitch and Amy! Like Foxy and me, may you always enjoy the journey.

Happy anniversary Foxy!

Ch. 6a - The End of the Beginning (Thank You!)

So, my Hyundai and I have arrived in San Francisco safe and sound.. I didn't get any tickets or flats along the way and I saw a lot of strange, beautiful things, including a lot of my favorite people in the world (we all of us are strange and beautiful, don't you think?). In short, this post and this blog is dedicated to them... THANK YOU!!! Whatever it is that I have done, I couldn't have done it without you.

Thank you Mitch; Aunt Lorrie; Becky, Chris, Brendan, and Doolin O'Brien; Margaret and Mia and Margaret's Grandma; Dan and Kash; and Danie and Jesse. Also, thanks to my New York cousins, Sara and Ellie, and my New York friends Justin and Laura, all of whom offered and would have been glad to let my unemployed ass sleep on their couches before I left. Thanks, too, to my parents, Aunt Arlie, Uncle Stan, Uncle Bob, Buba, Grandma and Grandpa, and all my family in Florida who gave me their continual moral support. I may end up sleeping on their couches one day too, and they'll be more than happy to have me, I know that.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I love you all, and if I ever get a couch of my own, you know you have a place to stay in San Francisco..

In geographical order, from east to west, here are all the homes, rooms, or view from the homes I slept in along the way; my homes away from home:

Looking back on this blog I realize that how I chose to tell my story had a lot to do with where I was at the time I actually got down to telling it.. all the places you see above. History is always presented through the prism of the present I guess, this is nothing new, but even my own past is constantly changing in my mind as I look back on it. Maybe someday I'll rewrite this story entirely and come to wildly different conclusions.. or maybe I won't. Until then, this is only 'the end of the beginning' of the second (or is it the third? fourth? Whatever.) metaphorical book of my life. I don't know how it will all end. But it had to start somewhere.

Ch. 1b - Of Pop and Popcorn

Saturday was the big day, the day I had been anticipating all week, the day that I was sure would define my stay in Ohio. Mitch and I would be conquering the Marion Popcorn Festival, "the largest popcorn festival in the world"! I love the slice of life and livestock that is a good state fair and it had been a few years since I had been to one.. I was primed! Well, Saturday arrived and I have to say.. It was sadly disappointing. Maybe it suffered from my high expectations (clearly it did), but if this is the biggest popcorn festival, I'd hate to see the smallest! There was hardly any freaking popcorn at the Popcorn Festival for crying out loud!

I mean, we took it for what is was and still had fun, but we only had about two hours of fun.. and that was stretching it. It was just a totally generic street fair that could have been in any town U.S.A. and with any theme randomly attached to it. There was nothing that made it special. Anybody remember the Grady Squash Festival from the overlooked movie classic, "Doc Hollywood"? Well, this is what I was expecting.. this is what I wanted. A genuine old-fashioned Middle-America small town festival with lots of local color. There should have been all kinds of popcorn exhibits and popcorn related products for sale, there should have been a popcorn ride, there should have been people dressed in giant popcorn costumes singing popcorn songs, etc..What we got was three downtown Marion blocks of standard deep-fried fair food, rickety fold-up rides, and barking carnies. They didn't even have deep-fried popcorn (a so-obvious-it's-brilliant idea Margaret had).. sheesh!

We did eat our way through there, nonetheless.. I got kettle corn (the most "exotic" popcorn they had), a corn dog, and a pork sandwich... and a bison burger. That's right, three different types of meat. Don't judge me. The funniest/grossest/most awesome food item we saw there, though, was the above pictured "PorkTato" Fries. Say PorkTato out loud and you will giggle. Neither of us could bring ourselves to actually eat the thing but Mitch did have some other kind of grease and fries combination bowl.. worst part is, being a future coroner of America, he knows exactly how that will look on the inside. And yet he smiles... he's a strange man.

Pop-quiz: Quick, what do you say when you want a brown carbonated beverage?

I say coke.. any regular, brown-colored cola product is coke to me, even when it is not actually Coke. Not soda, not cola, and certainly not pop. Well, people in Ohio say pop, and at the popcorn festival I ordered a "pop" for the first time and it felt weird! It was literally hard for my brain to make my mouth say it. I was doing my best to blend in, though... somehow I think I still stood out like a sore city boy.

Now it is Monday, my last day in Columbus. I am doing laundry and looking up barbecue joints in Kansas City, MO, the next stop on my trip. Jesse told me I have to get a "burnt-end" sandwich, and I can't see why I wouldn't.

Ch. 1a - Working The Land

Now I have arrived in Columbus and for the last few days I have just been takin' her easy mostly. Unwinding and decompressing from all that pent up Jersey rage. On Labor Day, Mitch (who is my friend who lives here - he cuts up dead people for a living and just passed his final medical licensing test, woo!) and I went apple pickin'. The orchard was in Palookaville, or at least you couldn't prove otherwise to this city boy. I mostly ate, Mitch mostly picked, and together we stole one Pink Lady apple that was not supposed to be picked yet. Yep, we are bad dudes.

Then we stopped by the farmers' market on the way out, which was again quite the novelty to me. I pointed and took pictures of the natives and their quaint traditional ways. Mitch was *ahem* excited by the butternut squash. Excuse me while I whip this out!

The reddish apples were sweet, the greenish ones were perfect for pie.. So that is what we decided must be done. The next day, while Mitch was at work, I was a good wife and made a genuine from-scratch, homemade apple pie. I was particularly proud of the crust... deeelicious. Check it out:

Otherwise I am just hanging out, exploring the city, chillin' like a villain. This weekend is the famous Marion Popcorn Festival.. I am told corn is the thing to eat here (I assume in all its forms) and I am looking forward to it. Popcornfestival.com

Snow and THE Ohio trip

Hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving! I think it is probably my favorite holiday, if I could call any of them favorites. In general, holidays suck. Nevertheless, I found myself driving some 9 hours each way to Columbus, OH. This was my first time in Ohio, where both sides of my family are actually from. My friend Mitch, seen here in front of his house (clearly very happy to see me), is a pathology resident at THE Ohio State University. That's right, THE. If you don't say the "The" they will yell at you. Silly and pretentious? Yes. But the campus is nice and Mitch likes it there. He cuts up dead people for a living and gave me a tour of the morgue. I saw a split second of my first real dead person.. I saw something bright red that was probably some sort of guts and decided that was quite enough.

The drive went smoothly and surprisingly quickly. Along the way I made my first ever snowman at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. He isn't very big, doesn't have a face, and is really pretty pathetic, but I love the poor bastard and was sorry to leave him behind. I'm sure I'll have more practice making snowmen in the coming months. Yesterday I woke up to snow falling outside my window. Sounds romantic when I put it that way, but I wasn't thinking romance at the time. I was just hoping it would be over by the time I got out of the shower. It was.. but it did stick a little and I took a picture of my car's first snow.The snow really is pretty to look at, and is still sorta a novelty to me, but I can't say I am looking forward to too much of it. It's cold! Although, I did get gore-tex shoes and feel I am now ready to kick winter's ass.

Last Two Weeks in Vegas

This is the Westward Ho, home of 5 cent coffee, 50 cent donuts, and $1 foot long hot dogs. It was one of my favorite spots on the Vegas strip until it got the wrecking ball treatment a couple years ago. We called it the "Ho".

I once bet my best friend Mitch $10 that he couldn't eat the hot dog (which was not only foot long, but an inch round and likely made of at least 85% rat by-product) and not throw up. He won the $10, but I think I got the best of it.. I really just wanted to make him eat the thing for my own amusement.

It has been almost exactly four years since I moved to Las Vegas. I have a had a lot of good times here with a lot of good friends, but in two weeks I am moving to New York City.. Eastward Ho!

I don't have a job in New York, but that didn't stop me when I moved to Vegas. I do have a cheap place to stay for two months.. Thanks to my cousin Ellie! And my cousin Sara also lives in the city.. that's two out of three first cousins.. not too shabby. And I do have at least two of my best friends already in the tri-state area, too.. Margaret and her daughter, Mia. I think it will be fun.

This blog will be a space for me to share my thoughts and experiences along the way. If you are reading it, you care about me at least a little.. Thank you. I'll try not to bore you.

This is the bagel shop nearest my future home...about two minutes walk. But the real question is, how far is Atlantic City from Queens? I'm still gonna have to get my poker fix now and then.