Imagine That...

November Notes

I wish I didn't have to wait until unexpectedly given half a day off before the holiday weekend to have blog time, but alas, such is life. Here are some long awaited tidbits from the happenings of Ben.

Kym Loves George

Indeed she does ladies and gentleman. And before that, it was George's turn on the billboard down the street from my house. I don't remember when this new outward expression of their love was unveiled (October? September, perhaps), but all that matters is that their love be chronicled. They have been going at it with a semi-aquatic theme since February this year with the scuba divers. Before dolphins there was a heart etched into the sandy beach somewhere. It had a poem superimposed that begged the question, "What did you do to make the world better today?" I long for a day when I too can answer that question by expressing my love for someone else. I hope that George and Kym keep it up. The daily reminder of their love certainly makes my world a better place.

Around America Project

Sometime in Mid-October, I received a message via CouchSurfing from a guy named Matt Danzico, a Brooklyn transplant from Scranton, PA (of Office fame). He had only recently discovered the wonders of CouchSurfing, which was really too bad considering the adventure he had set forth upon. He was conducting an experiment; one I would guess has never been tried before, which is why I agreed to participate, despite the fact that he seemed to be abusing the CouchSurfing system. He was attempting to travel from Brooklyn across the US to Portland, down California and across the Sunbelt, up Appalachia and return to Brooklyn in 80 days, and without spending any of his own money on necessities: food, transportation, and housing. He calls it Around America Project 2.0 – and you can totally watch his follies across these United States because he is filming the whole escapade and uploading short videos about each stop regularly.

Anyway, he really wasn't asking for much more than the normal CouchSurfers who generally require that you put them up and show them around. Matt also requested of his hosts that they provide for him a few meals which can be inexpensive, show him a couple of quirky things about your particular city, and also to perhaps drive him an hour or two to his next destination. It really wasn't much to ask considering the fact that I would be forever illuminated on the internet and I would be a part of something that hasn't ever been done before.

The only problem was that Matt had a hell of a time trying to get a ride out of El Paso. West Texas is BIG and VAST and desolate and poor Matt couldn't get a break. He even tried hitchhiking, but when he almost got abducted by a trucker, he called his El Paso host to pick him up, and that very generous man bought Matt a plane ticket to San Antone.

I picked Matt up at the airport on Saturday, November 3^rd, and brought him back to the roof terrace just in time for sunset. There, he conducted an interview of me which can be seen on the site (edited). That night, we rode bikes downtown and I treated him to an authentic Mexican patio dinner at Cascabel. Then, met up with friends at La Tuna and he bought me a few beers. Apparently the limits of his experiment exclude the purchase of what he calls vices – beer and cigarettes. Food is one thing, but I saw his point about asking strangers to buy him cigarettes. In any case, the next morning I shared with him the beauty of breakfast tacos (a sequence of wonderment that was sadly edited out of his video), and then we went to Keith's house…

You might remember Keith. I hosted him as a CouchSurfer back in May and showed him such a good time that by mid-June, Keith had moved to San Antonio and was living in the basement of my friend Caleb's loft at Blue Star. He is now a math teacher at a public high school in a town nearby. In a crazy coincidence, Keith's first place on his own happens to be in the same house (which is subdivided into three apartments) that my dear friend Elizabeth Graff and her husband and daughter were living in and stayed with when I first wandered into town well over two years ago. Is that clear? Keith stayed with me when he first visited town. I stayed with Elizabeth when I first came to town. By random happenstance, now Keith lives in that same building. San Antonio is crazy like that.

Anyway, Keith and Matt enjoyed the trampoline in Keith's backyard. But the real reason we went to Keith's in the first place was because he had been hosting a CouchSurfer of his own that weekend – a girl named Rachel from Austin. Having only recently moved to Austin from Brooklyn, she had never been to the Alamo and since we were headed there anyway, she joined us for the tour as well as the ride to Austin where I would be unloading Matt.

Rachel and Matt – downtown.

I showed them the Birthplace of Texas Independence and then we strolled around the Riverwalk. I have to say that Matt is a very fortuitous soul. Just as his ride to Houston bailed at the last minute, it worked out that I was going to Austin anyway to hang out with my friend Hale AND Hale was going to Houston that week anyway.

In Austin Hale (pictured above) and I showed Matt and Rachel many of our capitol city's treasures. We had coffee at the San Jose Hotel, wandered about hipster central S. Congress a bit, went to the impressive Cathedral of Junk, picked up snacks and provisions at Wheatsville Co-op, went Cardboard Sledding, and watched the sunset over the Congress Street Bridge as the famous bat migration fluttered beneath.

Cardboard Sledding speaks for itself folks – watch the hilarious video!

I was so glad to be involved it Matt's journey. May he make it home safe to Brooklyn where the blatant and contrived use of cowboy hats are far less of a problem.

Chili Bowl

Last Friday, Marc emailed me at work and told me that we should totally check out the Chili Bowl that night. What, you ask, is the Chili Bowl? I asked Marc the same question, desperately hoping it did not involve actually eating chili. (Who's not from Texas? yeah, it's me!) Apparently, it was a high school football game between two rival schools – Jefferson vs. Edison played at the legendary Alamo Stadium which is so beautifully carved out of an old limestone quarry not far from my home. Unfortunately, that game was the previous weekend. The game Marc had duped Jeremy and I into attending was just some lame ass football game between Edison and Fox Tech. Regardless, all three of us having been big band nerds in high school, were in for some good nostalgic fun.

Jeremy and Marc lock up the bikes.

Oh the half time shows were a huge disappointment. We wanted to see marching formations, but these bands did none of it! One of them simply stood in a big block and played for their dance team (and actually, the dance team was amazing. And by amazing I mean in a group nine dancers, to which the rest were skinny girls, one lone fat dude showed off his kick line skills. Seriously, you can kind of make him out in the above photo standing in a line at the front of the field with the odd colored shirt possibly because they couldn't find one that matched in his size? Poor guy… but, damn. I have never seen a guy do a kick line like that. Ever.) The second school's band just did some cheesy Veteran's Day crap. We were totally bummed.

Anyway, we enjoyed watching the horrendously bad football, singing to the familiar stand tunes, and shamefully telling band stories of lame high school glory. I definitely feel like I never have to go to another high school football game in my entire life. I'm really glad I got that out of my system.

Lost Maples

A few weeks back, my friends Sky and Kristen suggested a camping trip. The idea was to go up to Enchanted Rock – a state park about an hour and a half away featuring a large exposed granite dome - with a group of friends and explore said geological oddity, and commune with nature the best way we city folk know how. But nothing is ever easy, especially in midst of Fall camping season. It turns out that the campgrounds at ERock were all booked over Veteran's Day weekend and all our other friends had made other plans or had to work. I recommended a hearty day trip, but Sky and Kristen had their hearts set on camping and could not be deterred. Thus, Kristen made a reservation for primitive camping at Lost Maples State Natural Area.

I was seriously skeptical of this "primitive camping" idea. First of all, there were no open fires allowed in the primitive camping areas and that seemed a bit antithetical to the camping experience. How would we keep warm? And more importantly – how would we make s'mores? Secondly, looking at the map of the park, I noticed that you couldn't drive up to the primitive camping areas, you had to hike there. And depending upon where in the park you were assigned to camp, this could require a rather long hike up steep terrain. None of us had brought backpacks, and we had a cooler chilling our food and alcoholic provisions – would we have to carry our beer all that way? Or would we <gasp> have to leave our beer in my car's trunk? S'mores were one thing…

I couldn't help but feel as though we were vastly unprepared as we arrived to the park check-in area. We pretty much lucked out and there happened to be one camping-with-amenities spot open. Or perhaps the park ranger took pity on us and assigned us a little camp spot on a rocky patch of earth adjacent to the sewage treatment plant. We were stoked!

Sky and Kristen, pictured above figuring out the new tent.

Sky decided to drape himself with the rain-fly.

He proceeded to act like a kindly, poor, old gypsy woman for at least the next 45 minutes.

Before dusk, we got an hour of hiking in. Lost Maples is a unique spot an hour or so due west of San Antonio. Texas isn't known for colorful fall foliage, but there is a rare sub-species of maple tree that only grows along the streambed in this particular state park, hence the name "Lost Maples". As you can imagine, it is quite breath-taking this time of year and hundreds flock each day to take in its autumn resplendence which peaks this time of year. Usually, that is. Unlike the rest of the country, central Texas received an abnormal amount of rainfall this year. Apparently all the unexpected excess watering caused the maples leaves to turn yellow and abruptly die before we arrived.

We made the best of it – nature is always beautiful soI did some runway action through the dead maples.

That night, we sat at our picnic table in the dark, eating away at some vegetarian pot stickers Whole Foods prepared for our trip. Our camping neighbors took pity on our sad, little camping effort. They had an overabundance of beer, s'mores, and room by their campfire to share with us. And we graciously accepted. In another strange San Antonio coincidence, it turned out that they were hosting an Afghan exchange student. I realize that isn't too crazy, but get this: They were part of the same group of volunteers hosting Afghani teenagers that my friends Betsy and Luke (also of SATX) were among, as I learned they too, had an Afghani in their home. Apparently there were 9 families total in San Antonio hosting. And we happened to befriend one of them by random happenstance, as they had adopted an additional three pathetic campers that evening. Wild.

Speaking of wild - We made sure to behave by not feeding the animals. If you do, you know, you might spread bubonic plague. Right.

The next morning we made use of our very generous neighbors, who shared with us their fantastic coffee machine, and the three of us set off on an inspired (meaning caffeinated) five mile hike.

Despite the lack of extreme fall color, there was an awful lot to get excited about on our hike. There were creeks and streams, waterfalls, steep cliffs, large boulders, and a rather impressive bluff view.

There were also strange antlered creatures atop said bluff.

Pack-man Rock.

Thanksgiving

So it's Thanksgiving weekend, and for the umpteenth time since I can't even remember (it's been that long), I am not with my family. Back when my parents were still together and my grandparents were alive, I remember it being something resembling a traditional holiday. Mom would have the food catered, and we would set out the fine plastic-ware on the picnic table on our dock overlooking the lake. It was nice, and all our extended family friends would be there too, which undoubtedly meant that Sami and I would re-enact the entire Wizard of Oz movie. She would play Dorothy, and I every other character. But that was so very long ago, and the last Thanksgiving I remember spending in Hollywood was with my mom at a sushi restaurant. And maybe Grandma was there too. The pilgrims were all about the tuna tataki.

In any case, it's been so fascinating to witness how this pivotal expression of The American Ideal translates through the various families I have spent Thanksgiving with over the past several years. This was my third Turkey Day since moving to Texas and I was delighted to spend it in Austin with my friend Jonathan Smith, his parents, sister Emily, and girlfriend Cameron. I had never met Jonathan's family before, and since meeting parent of my friends has become a favorite pastime of mine, I was rather looking forward to it. They are really nice folks. Jonathan's mom made a delectable feast which was augmented slightly by the beets I prepared that morning. His dad, I learned, is an amateur fossil hunter and showed me his prized collection before unloading half of it into my car! I also got a kick out of learning more about Jonathan's childhood. There was nothing unexpected – he was an eagle scout after all, and nothing fell short of the that level of over achievement. After dinner we reviewed his wealth of wheat pennies, and rummaged through a trunk of pure boyhood: binders full of baseball cards organized by volume and subdivided into National and American leagues, model cars, shadowboxes full of merit badges, and my personal favorite – two kits sent to him by the 1992 Clinton/Gore Presidential Campaign to be a "Rapid Response Team Captain" full of stickers, buttons, and VHS tapes. I love how the campaign was perfectly comfortable by the idea of an 11 year old rapidly responding to crises on the campaign trail. But then again, Bill Clinton did win…

Pictured above – Jonathan and Cameron circa my SanAntoniversary.

All this is a long winded way of expressing my thanks to all of my San Antonio friends who have opened their homes and hearts to me over the last several years since I have been a Texan. I will miss you most of all scarecrow.

 

 

Frequent Flyer

Warning: There are bouts of cynicism injected into this blog entry not normally associated with my more generally cheery disposition. I was really exhausted when I scribbled this into my notebook and was feeling overwhelmed with the shear size of the Atlanta airport which is gargantuan and of course there was much excitement about going home but at the time, I could not muster up the energy to use it for good instead of sarcasm.

It's not even 10am (Eastern Time) and already the strangest thing happened. The hard landing of a 737 at Atlanta's Hartfield-Jackson Airport abruptly woke me from my slumber. This was rather jarring as I was enjoying my right to a languid slumber. The combination of a violent thunderstorm while making an attempt at some badly needed shut-eye in my San Antonio roof terrace apartment as well as the anticipation of a 4:15AM CAB ride to the airport really did me in. (Especially the latter.) I was overcome with anxiety about missing my first flight home to Florida in approximately 14 months. I certainly couldn't disappoint my parents by being the son who slept through his alarm. No sir.

But having caught the flight, my iPod blissfully distracted me from all these troubles. I was home free (literally) and could pass out - no worries. Oddly enough, when the sensation of wheels finding the runway wrestled me from such pleasure, Steve Miller Band's song Jetairliner was playing on my iPod's shuffle setting. I guess the only song more appropriate would have been Stairway to Heaven. But perhaps that's inaccurate. Stairway is really more of a take-off tune, than a landing song. Still, with over 3200 songs on my iPod to choose from on random, you have to admit that Jetairliner is quite a bizarre coincidence.

The Atlanta Airport is disturbingly HUGE! It's impossible to comprehend, really. And by looking at all the faces of other travelers in line at Au Bon Pain, one could ascertain that the rest of America agrees. I think it's kind of cute the way they make you take a train between terminals, as if to say, "Don't worry that your connecting flight's gate is over a mile away. YOU CAN TAKE THE TRAIN THERE!!! Thank you for choosing Delta."

If I had been in my right mind or had a far less generous mother then I probably would have done what I normally do which is to avoid the Atlanta airport at all cost and used Southwest. However, I am fortunate enough to have a mother who couldn't wait for her son to be able to afford airfare himself, so she bestowed me with her rarely used frequent flyer miles. This, of course, was extremely nice of her. And although I am gracious, the fact that I sit here within sight of three TCBY's under one roof leads me to wonder if the offer was a way to avoid the ATL airport herself?

I'm only kidding mom. I know that it was more likely a ploy to remind me why I never started smoking. Those smoking lounges are pretty useful for this purpose. For those of you travelers savvy enough to avoid ATL, there are these glass walled-off prisons littered about the terminals. Mothers can bring their children to gawk at the folks with a particularly unhealthy habit and witness the horrors of needing that regular fix from behind a glass storefront. The unfortunate souls who dare use these "lounges" look pretty unenthusiastic at being segregated. I'm glad there is glass between us because I think they can sense me quietly judging them. I swear one of them is looking at me as though they want to rip my fresh, untainted lungs from my chest as a trophy to mount on their prison wall.

If there is anything better than observing future passengers romp about the airport, it's taking notice of how many people work to serve them. There are a hell of a lot of airport employees. I'm not talking about the pilots, flight attendants, or the folks out on the runway with the wavy light sticks. I mean - that woman behind the counter over at Hudson News stand, the kids at Sbarro, and the guys at those weird shoe shining booths that I don't think I have EVER seen being used.  It's so weird to think that in any job search, one would consider working at the airport Starbucks over a stand-alone Starbucks, well, just about anywhere else. When you think about it there has GOT to be a more convenient Starbucks to work at. To deal with airport parking as part of your job must be a special kind of hell. Additionally - do these employees have to walk through airport security five days a week??? Or ten - if God Forbid they leave the airport for lunch? Don't get me wrong. I am super appreciative that they make this daily sacrifice to serve my needs. After all, what would this wait have been like without that bagel and matching issue of the New York Times? I've just never really considered before what it all means - thank you dear airport sales people.

There is another passenger lying asleep on the floor across the aisle of seating from me at my gate. I'd say he has the right idea, except that he is snoring loudly. His girlfriend (or sister - it's unclear) keeps making eye contact with me and rolling them. I can tell she's really embarrassed, but not enough to move elsewhere temporarily. I keep trying to suggest with my eyes not to feel so ashamed. I'm using my iPod. I can easily pretend I don't hear the roar of his breath. So I do. I hope it makes her feel better. She looks in a panic. If only she had an iPod.

I still have another two hours before my flight to Miami begins boarding. You heard me. I said Miami. Why in the world , you ask, would I be flying into Miami - quite possibly the busiest and most chaotic airport in all the land 40 minutes away - when there is a perfectly airport in Ft. Lauderdale, just five minutes North from my mom's house in Hollywood? Apparently it's Spring Break. Oh yeah. And Frequent Flyer miles are really hard to use during Spring Break during such a time of massive flocking to sunny South Florida.

Having spent a great deal of my life - especially during college when Spring Break really mattered - in my home state, it's worth noting that I have never had to fly to South Florida during Spring Break before. I had always already been there.

So, I had to take what I could get and fly on a Tuesday. To Miami. None of that really matters because I'm now officially on SPRING BREAK and my parents love me enough to come pick me up!

Rather Bleak...

My Blog. Recently. Bleak, indeed.

I wish I could say that its been because I have had deadlines on top of deadlines at work which has caused me to spend insane amounts of hours at nights and weekends (all true as of late) at the office, but the real reason I am sad to report has been a dysfuctional computer.

I am not very computer savvy. So I don't know what exactly is wrong with my until circa one month ago once cooperative  Toshiba notebook. The good news is that I may get a new computer (taking suggestions at will) and at such a time regular blogging will once again commence to the delight of all.

However, much of this is going to have to wait until after I get back from my vacation. I will be leaving Saturday for Western Pennsylvania to redezvous with Joe, Fred, Kevin, and Julie at her summer home.

Falling Water won't know what hit it when five Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture drop-outs descend on it's bountiful cascading perfection. I'll spend the week there before continuing my Frank Lloyd Wright All-star Tour at Taliesin in Wisconsin the following weekend.

Hopefully, my camara won't catch the same apparently contagious technological disease that spread to my iPod from my computer...

Perhaps Nancy Reagan is to Thank

You girls may not be aware, but something curious has been going on in men's public restrooms. I first noticed it several years ago. I found it rather bizarre then, and it still brands a smirk to my face whenever I encounter them today.

What could possibly strike up my curiosity in the water closet? Though the seemingly ubiquitous popularity of troughs to pee into does keep me in a perplexed state, this time I am referring to those little plastic filters in urinals. Plain and simple, these prevalent accoutrements of sanitation are nothing to get worked up over.

However, on occasion its not uncommon to stumble upon special red ones clearly displaying a message using a nondescript, white sans serif font.

It says: SAY NO TO DRUGS

Its not the message that bothers me. In fact, I think it may even be a very effective place for an anti-drug campaign. I usually see them in restaurants, bars, and clubs where indulgence with recreational tonics and hedonistic potions might be utilized. I could easily envision those considering drug use to at the very least be inclined to stop and think about what they might be about to do before they satiate their needed escapism. In some extreme cases, it might actually prevent intended drug use all together. Who knows how many unfortunate accidents such an effort has impeded.

What actually boggles my mind when unexpectedly confronted with these little-slices-of-suggestive-revelation is - who the hell came up with the idea to put an anti-drug campaign on those little, plastic filters in urinals?

Seriously. Who were these individuals that were sitting around a conference table at the anti-drug headquarters, wondering where they might put their new campaign? I imagine the question was posed, easy enough. But who came up with the idea? Were they just brainstorming? Or had they exhausted the gamut already, prompting a bathroom break - did (likely) he just go make use of the facilities and have the epiphany at the urinal?

"YEEEEEES! Eureka! Those little plastic doohickeys in the urinals! It's perfect!"

Did his colleagues embrace his brilliance immediately or did they have to be convinced by focus groups and market research?

Either way, I'd really love to meet that guy and shake his hand for thinking outside the box. After he washes his hands, of course.

Shamelessly Shameful

I am unabashedly shameless.

I think it is something that has become decidedly so - much like an Earth as it revolves around a Sun.

I say things that are so horribly inappropriate when in seemingly comfortable social situations that people gasp and hiss and often don't know how to respond. I find it somewhat vexing because this generally catches me off guard. It would be one thing if I intended to get such a rise out of others, but usually I just want them to share a good laugh about some silly nonsense with me.

At work today there were two such incidences:

The first occurred this morning when I dragged myself away from the project I have been working on to search for treats in the second floor kitchen. I got there and discovered no such treats, but rather then let my disappointment get the best of me, I inserted myself into the conversation between two of my friends/co-workers (whose names have been changed to protect the innocent) who may also have been looking for treats.

Kerry and Connie had recognized that they both were wearing a similar outfit - jeans and brown shirts. I winced and said that was really too bad because they both sit in the same studio near one another. People might easily mistake their lack of office dress coordination as a hideous "Twin Day" faux pas. Connie pointed out that her shirt was slightly lighter in shade than Kerry's shirt.

"See, it's the color of..."

"Poop!" I chimed in making even more light of the situation. Kerry smiled like it was all part of her plan. I can usually count on her to dignify my jokes.

Connie kind of glared at me with a reluctant smile but asked squeamishly what color her shirt represented.

"Puke...yes," I suggested?

"Is puke really this color," she asked?

"Well no." Realizing my error, I retorted, "Unless it's regurgitated poop."

"Okay. Time to get back to work," she said shaking her head in dismay.

Maybe I really am inappropriate. Maybe I'm frustrated by a society that isn't as comfortable as I am talking about the difference in coloration between fecal matter and regurgitated fecal matter. Maybe people are too damn sensitive. Maybe I think I'm funnier than I really am.

Later in the afternoon we were notified that one of my fellow interns had been accepted to UT - Austin. Though happy for her, I found this curious because she had been previously denied the honor much like I had been several weeks ago. I wanted to extend my congratulations and also wanted to find out how exactly one gets denied acceptance to a school and then gets miraculously accepted. So an hour later when I found myself in her vicinity, I inquired.

"Hey! Congrats on getting in. That's so great!"

"Thanks Ben, she smiled."

"So what's the story? I thought that you told me you didn't get it."

"Well, I did get a rejection. But an hour ago the Undergraduate Admissions Director called me. Apparently I was on the waiting list"

I was being totally genuine in that moment but quickly switched to sarcastic mode. It's usually my killer deadpan that gets me into trouble. Of course my next response was in jest!

"My goodness! Now what did you do...did you sleep with her?"

<Gasp> "Ben! Oh my God! She is such a sweet, old woman - how could you insinuate..."

All this makes me wonder - when these incidences occur, is it because I project a message that to me, nothing is sacred?

I recently read that Issac Hayes who voiced the beloved character of "Chef" on South Park left the show because he found their particular message regarding the Church of Scientology offensive. Now, this is a show that is criticized for championing a distinctive brand of genius. The show has effectively made fun of absolutely everything - Christians, Mormons, Jews, Muslims, Blacks, Gays, Hippies, People who have asses for faces - you name it. The fact that Issac Hayes would suddenly protest the show's humor after eight years because he didn't care for the uninhibited disregard for people's beliefs proves that even one of their own has clearly missed the point (let alone exposing that he too, was susceptible to the mystique of L. Ron Hubbard and his powerful fanatics.)

Nothing is too serious. Everything evokes laughter.

For me its the highest form of sanctity. If nothing is untouchable, then everything is sacred.

Maybe you disagree. Either way I just wanted to take a moment to laugh at myself.

The Week of Bad Hair

Last night I arrived back in Texas after spending the last week in my native South Florida. There, I found myself immersed in the boundless love exuding from my parents. I enjoyed the unceasing perfect weather that is expected for any strategically planned sojourn there this time of year. I also reveled in the much needed break from the chaotic bombardment of real world problems that I occasionally find myself struggling with like everyone else. It was a splendid recoup, but I must admit I am delighted to be home amidst the pecans and the cowboy hats and the Alamo and the withered grass in the yard and gloomy skies above.

Its still fun to point out what a strange thing that is to say! I'm a Texan? Really? My driver's license says so, but my soul finds it conceptually jarring and difficult to succumb. Like it or not soul, I'm cutting loose my tethered roots to my native state. If any realization occurred on my little vacation it was precisely that - nothing earth shattering or monumental. What had been since last year when last in Hollywood only a charged notion became a solidified belief - I am no longer a part of South Florida. It is no longer my home. It is a place that shaped my happy childhood, but that is over. I have completely moved on. For me, South Florida has become just another vacation spot like any other tourist wearing speedos with fanny packs. (Yes, they really do that! And without shirts too so that their bellies drape over their fanny packs. I know because I saw this hideous display of inconsiderate fashion while at Hollywood Beach yesterday morning. Lucky for you I did not have my camera with me.)

Irregardless of the disconnection I feel toward my former home, my parents still live there and its easy to foresee another visit there sometime in the future. South Florida does have a quality about it that makes it unique. Its the same uniqueness that reeled my parents in separately from the Northeast in the early to mid-'70's. I certainly put good use to this uniqueness by going to a place for vacation where the sun rarely ceases and the temperature flutters between 60 to 80 degrees even in what should be accounted for as winter.

What did I do during my week in Florida?

I communed with my favorite orchid-smothered tree in my mom's back yard. Even though much of it's gloriousness (not to mention the entire South Florida tree canopy) was obliterated by Hurricane Wilma, I still basked in its gift of (withered) shade.

I vegged-out in front of the TV, taking advantage of the all-too-overwhelming digital cable. If you've ever asked yourself who those chumps are that watch the same damn episodes of Project Runway on Bravo over and over to constitute the need for unending repetition on one network are - yeah, I'm totally that guy...

I was approved for Laser Eye surgery. I wish that it was surgery to implant lasers into my eyeballs, but alas I shall settle for near-perfect vision. I'm likely to become corrective lense-free sometime in the next few months!

I ate sushi like a ravenous fiend, since I usually cannot afford it on my own though I crave it often, even in landlocked San Antonio.

I finally saw Walk the Line. The film was really great, but I am left with the bitter taste of now officially considering myself a country music fan. I don't think I'm at an emergency red alert Garth Brooks or Shania Twain level (yet), but in an appreciation of fantastic little slices of Americana phase. Johnny Cash was just too soulful not to take seriously.

My mom and I went to the King Tut Exhibit at the Ft. Lauderdale Museum of Art. It was a really fascinating exhibit, and I have never seen that many people packed inside a museum before. Literally, there was an hour wait to get in. I love how they made it an experience and not like a Disney ride. They unveiled the tomb and its treasures in much the same way that they were initially uncovered by that British archaeologist whose name I always forget. I was pierced with amazement at the remarkably preserved ostentation of each exquisite artifact. I especially liked the beautifully carved wooden smaller scaled furniture - it was a little reminder that he was the boy king. The one disappointment was that they simply didn't have the famous golden sarcophagus or the freakin' mummy!

My dad and I took an afternoon drive to the Everglades to immerse ourselves in what little is left of the indigenous wilderness. We saw plenty of graceful egrets and herons and a few dozen lethargic alligators.

I visited with the few friends I have left in my native Hollywood and reconnected with old ones. I saw Evyan who, like me, just finished an arduous grad school application process. I feel especially inclined to boast about her chosen field - art history, because she claims I inspired her to take her first art history class when we shared a townhouse together my senior year. I even let her borrow my book.

Like I mentioned, I reconnected with my friend Brooke and met her fiancee Larry. Brooke and I were next door neighbors in high school. For some stupid reason when I went off to college we lost touch and both our families moved. It had been 7 years since we'd seen each other. She had me over for a barbecue at her adorably mod house and I gave her my seal of approval on landing a fine fiancee. Brooke and Larry will be moving to North Carolina after their wedding this spring.

I had a nice visit with my friend's Rachael and Erik and their little bundle of joy, Gus - the most adorable one-year old the world has ever seen. We had a lot of catching up to do, sharing gardening tips, and I credit Rachael for the ingenious idea that I move to San Antonio way back last March.

Now that I am back in Texas (my mother and father miss me already) I'm looking forward to all the opportunities granted in my free time gained by the completion of my applications to grad school. I've stopped drinking coffee and started doing yoga again. I'm hoping to begin a slew of art project ideas I have been bottling up. The world is my oyster! Or perhaps as a Texan, the world is my breakfast taco...

Reflections on Another Year Passed

According to the Mayan Calendar, the world is going to end in 2012. Well, at least that is where their concept of time abruptly halts. One can speculate any number of reasons for this.

Perhaps the conquistadors barged in and unleashed their old world germs on their startlingly advanced civilization smack dab in the middle of writing that calendar. All the astrologers perished rapidly or turned into neophyte Jesus freaks.

Perhaps they were so advanced that they actually were able to foresee some kind of cataclysmic event hundreds of years before it occurred. Like to maybe anticipate that greenhouse gases would concentrate in the atmosphere and warm up our planet to an extent so great as to melt away the polar icecaps and assist Nashville, TN in becoming a bustling seaport. Or they might have sensed that our modern oil-based economy would reach peak-oil production capacity catalyzing full blown societal-shattering world war and endless destruction due to use of WMD's to obtain whatever is left of precious black gold. As an advanced civilization they new this was coming and built stepped pyramid-shaped space vessels to escape to a planet with a far less ominous future. (That would have been a terrific scene in an Indiana Jones movie. What's Steven Spielberg's email address again?)

Or maybe the Mayan astrologers discovered pot or something and just got lazy...

Regardless, the beginning of 2006 is just a week away. I'm typically not one to shout doomsday - I mean, I haven't been stocking up on duct tape or canned goods for the bomb shelter or anything, but we are really getting up there! With the Armageddon swiftly upon us, I realize how good to me 2005 was.

I rang in that New Year at Yogaville in Virginia in the most blissful way possible. I took part in a special ceremony, acknowledging the presence of the Oneness which perfectly unites all Creation. There was chanting, a mingling of powerful energy shared between a hundred of us or so, and then some meditation into the new year. I don't think I had ever experienced such a cleansing way to begin anew. I was fortunate enough to continue my stay at Yogaville for two more months.

My parents made their love for me unequivocally transparent and readily available this year (not that I was unaware of it before but what they did really surprised me). They were unconditionally supportive of my initiative to start life over as a (hopefully) soon-to-be-independent adult, despite the fact that I wanted to be somewhere (anywhere) far away from them. They made this possible by buying me a car and providing me with enough resources to find a new niche in an yet-to-be-determined location of my choosing. They wanted to see their son continue to grow and find his own path through the world. There has never been a better reason to be grateful about anything then when you have such wonderful parents as I have. I haven't seen my parents since late March, and I look forward to spending a week in Florida visiting them in January.

Oddly enough, I chose to move to San Antonio. Its a bizarre and fascinating city and I actually enjoy its prevalent authenticity, despite it infact being the birthplace of TEXAS. I am so thankful that it has embraced me, even though I touted an adamant cynicism toward all-things Texas before making the decision to move here.

I've made many, many enduring friendships this year here in Texas and connected with people who have come and gone all too quickly. I have also reconnected with quite a few friends that I had lost entirely. The most significant being Stephanie and Patrick who allowed me to move into their house with them until I was able to settle in MY OWN HOUSE behind them. It has been a delight sharing our lives together through the occasional hard times but mostly good times. We look forward to having a spring garden together next year. I really love my little house, even though the last few months have been a little rough with that mouse problem and a severe lack of insulation on cold nights.

After being virtually unemployed for a year and half, even with a late start - 2005 has given me some pretty fantastic work. I really enjoyed barely making ends meet at my first retail adventure in a long while working at Whole Earth Provision Company. The fun rarely ceased, even when I doubled my hours to pick up a professional day job as an interior design intern. Such a job allowed me my first book credit as the graphic illustrator for the monograph my boss wrote titled, "Structures in Interior Design." But the zenith of my professional career this year came as a full time internship at Lake|Flato Architects. Its almost ridiculous how many opportunities this experience has granted me as well as how many more it will allow me throughout 2006.

I was forced to redefine my short term goals this year when I reluctantly (um, kicking and screaming) made the decision to go back to grad school for Fall 2006. Its been quite a commitment over the last three months getting together all that has been necessary. Seriously, its been like having two full time jobs. With application deadlines rapidly approaching, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I actually have envelopes now that are addressed to schools with materials in accumulation mode. I cannot wait until I can begin frolicking about in a kind of aloof anxiety knowing full well that everything is out of my hands. It will become <insert admission committee members name here>'s burden to bare.

Its pretty weird to think that this time next year I will be a grad student again. I'll be living in Austin or Charlottesville or Berkeley or L.A. (ewwww, I can't believe I might live in LA - who knows I might like it more than Texas. Besides they put avocado on everything in California.) I really hope that it will be UT, since it might actually be affordable since I have "Texas" branded across my face on my new driver's license. Attending UVA would be nice too, considering its close proximity to Yogaville.

I had some incredible travels this year and experienced just a little more of what makes or country extremely great and very unusual all at the same time. Just to prattle on about a few in order of appearance... I witnessed The Aviator lose the Best Picture Academy Award in Annapolis, MD. I revisited my favorite "largest old growth cypress swamp" in Florida. I saw "The Amazing Bassigator" in Abita Springs, LA before hurricane Katrina (likely) washed it away. I enjoyed the flowing mineral baths of Truth or Consequences, NM. I encountered the world's largest radio satellite by accident in nowhere, NM. I made peace with Taliesin West and enjoyed for the last time my dear friend Joy's shelter masterpiece before it was razed by crazed Frank Lloyd Wright zealots. I witnessed the Sonoran Desert in bloom at Saguaro Nat'l Park. I observed a Stealth bomber follow me around White Sands Nat'l Monument. I learned that bat poop was once harvested for fuel in the world's largest underground space at Carlsbad Caverns. I ate lunch at the Alamo at least 50 times this year was coaxed into taking photos of tourists on several occasions. I spent a weekend in Marfa, TX - home to some serious art and some serious mysterious lights.

What I am most recently thrilled about is my spontaneous decision to travel once again before 2005 comes to a close. I have the Universe to thank for a cheap-as-HELL, last minute flight to Chicago next weekend. Julie and I plan on driving up Madison, WI to rendezvous with Kevin (coming from Minneapolis) and all our Spring Green friends. We'll see Fred back in Chicago on the first day of the new year.

As the year 2012 nears, I realize that I have alot to be thankful for, not forgetting an unlimited amount of things to look forward to. I could get wrapped up in contemplating a potential end to it all. But instead, I choose to simply live everyday to the fullest. Whether it be another 70 years or according to those pesky Mayans - another six, my New Year's Resolution is to make the most of my short time here. Tangibly this works out to being more mindful, salubrious, and embodying the integrity of the ideals that I claim define me. Wish me luck, because its going to be tough waking up at 6:30 every morning for yoga and meditation while at the same time diminishing my dependence on coffee. Let's do it!

Long Time, No Blog

I know, I know.

It has been a rather bleak month in the wonderful world of blogging. It hasn't been because I'm loosing interest in a still nascent hobby, nor has there been any lack of activity to write about. I have been busy juggling several components of my life, all of which have been competing for my attention.

The "Financially Solvent, Responsible, & Practical Real Life Experience Me" normally thrives from 7am to 6pm M-F and has been sedulous at learning the ropes of the architectural profession. For the past month or so I have been dividing my efforts between two projects. One is a master plan for a park owned by the local Episcopal diocese. The increasingly more exciting of the two is for Adkins Arboretum, a nature preserve in Maryland. This expanding operation is getting a Lake|Flato makeover on the existing visitor center and an additional three buildings. I am especially fervent for the project to move into design development after the holidays, when I'll assisting with the LEED certification research, as well as seeing the design process through completing full construction documents in May.

There are also pockets of Practical Ben on weekends when I become a domestic champion with assorted house cleaning initiatives. Lately, these have been rendered rather futile, as all efforts to live in a sterile environment have temporarily been stymied. I am dealing with a persistent rodent problem. But I'm going to save that digression for another time.

The "Leaving-Options-Open-for-an-Optimistic-Vision-of-the-Future Me" has been taking over upon getting home from work. He is the one culpable for so few posts. Over the last month and a half, I have been studying for the GRE, and I have been assiduous with taking practice tests every weekend. I'd say that the elevated caliber of my vocabulary has sufficiently engaged the realm of vehemently discernible.

Due to a number of extenuating circumstances, I failed to make an appointment in time and when I called, there were no more in November. So rather than wait until early December when there were open dates, I decided to hope for the best! On Monday I plan to take advantage of the testing center's walk-in policy. Its a risk, but I cannot retain all these useless standardized testing skills for much longer. Not to mention the ominous burden of compiling quite an assortment of statements of intent, letters of recommendation, new incarnations of my portfolio, transcripts - all to be ready and mailed off before a modicum of rapidly approaching application deadlines.

I've been scoring adequately enough on the practice tests. I've taken the day off of work. I feel ready to invest $115 on a standardized test that will determine the course of my future. You have no idea how ready I am to allow more time for...

The "Lets-Have-Some-Crazy-Fun-Right-Now Me" - which is most certainly preferred. Between last weekend and today I had cocktails over at Lindsay & Steven's with Alison and Cameron. I thoroughly enjoyed a surf rock band (that Lindsay knew the go-go synth girl from her knitting circle) play at a local venue.

I made guacamole in the yet-to-be-discovered-mouse-infiltrated kitchen.

I supported Brian in his efforts to bring together the biking community of San Antonio at his Bike Swap at my favorite German beer garden - however I am still bikeless.

Alison and I attended the Alamo City Roller Derby - which essentially amounted to an unbecoming, yet hilarious combination of roller skates, scantily-clad women, helmets, and escalating brutality, but the real kind. Not like in professional wrestling.

I participated in a ceremony for members of the Shambhala Center taking refuge vows (formally dedicating themselves to the path of Buddhism) - it was beautiful, riveting, and illuminating.

I went over my friend Vicki's for what has become our weekly fix of what's wrong with America. I'm so ashamed by it that I won't even admit to what it is.

Last night I went to a house party of a former co-worker (Brian) Connelly from WEPCo. He and his fiancee have a lovely home. It was bizarre that I worked with him for all those months and never knew of his outstanding hobby. Jake played the guitar.

Brian (other Brian) and I went perusing at two flea markets this morning. I bought a bunch of Mexican candy. Supposedly the "spicy watermelon" flavored pops are the best... I'm reluctant, as can be expected.

Such is my life. For now.

Stay tuned.