My 2nd hottest guy friend forewarned me that there are a lot of them in this city, but I didn’t realize the extent of their population in NYC until today. And no, I’m not talking about cockroaches – although, there are plenty of them in the city too… but rather, I’m referring to Michigan alumni. And perhaps some of them convincingly fake their ties to the university (as my friend Colin Campbell does) for their love of Michigan football, but regardless, I wasn’t expecting the masses that I encountered when I entered Professor Thom’s to watch the game.
I suppose I should explain…Professor Thom isn’t actually a professor, but rather he’s a bar tender at a sports bar on 2nd Avenue, just a few blocks from Union Square. I had caught wind that Michigan fans gather there to watch the games and being that I have no television in my apartment, I ventured to Thom’s to join the maize and blue community of NYC. Honestly, I wish I could have taken someone with me, but my friend base in NYC at the moment is rather limited, so I entered the bar alone. (On a side note, if you know of someone – not married couples - who currently resides in the city and might want to be my friend, I’m currently accepting friend recommendations. I’d be particularly thrilled if you can recommend someone who is into rock climbing or Michigan football or might want to start a small group with me that would listen to and discuss LA Mosaic’s podcasts.)
The place was packed - so much so that I suspect that we were breaking fire code - and everyone was sporting some sort of Michigan t-shirt or jersey, and there were those that even went as far as to wear face paint. The game, which could be viewed on over 25 flat screens throughout the place, blared over the chatter and cheers of those in the bar. Although we were in Manhattan, miles away from Ann Arbor, it kind of felt like we were there - at the Big House, experiencing everything firsthand. There was “that guy” with the cowbell who would lead the “Go Blue” chant and with every touchdown Hail to the Victors would play over the sound system and we would all sang along.
I love those moments in life when feel and know that you are a part of something bigger and greater than yourself – where there is a spirit celebration and joy that can’t really be explained, but it is there and your soul knows it is right and how things should be. I think that is what we ought to experience in our faith journey, and what Jesus was referring to when he said, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
Shortly after half time I met a couple of guys - Toby and Bruce. Toby asked if I had just graduated. I laughed and explained that I had graduated a while ago, and that I had just moved here from Southern California. He informed me that he had graduated in 2005, and then continued digging for my age, by insisting that I tell him what year I graduated. And so I did (and honestly, I have no problem stating that I graduated from college in 2000 and that I am currently 32 years old. If anything, I just wish men under the age of 25 would stop hitting on me.)
Toby is 27, and although within range, he’s not within possibility. I’m rather certain he would agree with me. I asked what line of work he is in and he told me that he’s a youth director – at a synagogue, and that he is also in a band. He told me he’s supposed to be a role model, but he doesn’t always feel like one. I argued that the very fact that he is pursuing his dreams makes him one, because so many people don’t. At the end of Michigan’s win over University of Connecticut (30-10), Toby asked if I wanted to meet up later that night; I passed on the invitation, explaining that I already had plans for the evening, but that perhaps I’d see him back at Thom’s for another Michigan game sometime in the near future.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Elevator Indecision
I have to admit, I almost didn’t step into the elevator. Because when it opened the sight that I saw was more than unpleasant - it was repulsive.
You see, there were two of us waiting on the third floor to go up. I didn’t know the other party, but I suspect that she is kind in nature, because when the elevator opened, she motioned for me to go in first. And I would have…except, I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to get into the elevator, and so I insisted that she go ahead. So while I continued my mental deliberation, she stepped in without any hesitation; it was evident that she didn’t have any concern, but I certainly did. Because there were three men already standing in the elevator, and one of them was wearing this t-shirt whose sight was enough to make me sick to my stomach.
But I knew that I had to big bigger than the red O that spread across this man’s chest. I would share the elevator with an Ohio State Fan. And so I got in, and explained my delay and indecision. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into the elevator when I saw your t-shirt. I’m a Michigan grad.”
The Buckeye responded, “Oh, I feel sorry for you guys.”
To which I replied, “Yeah, the past few years have been rather brutal.”
My football friend, Coach Keith Schulte, later told me that I should have responded by saying, “Don’t feel sorry for us. Michigan has one of the greatest running football programs in college football history, and we have at least a dozen more wins over Ohio State than they have over us.”
Coach Schulte is right. And as we shouted and sang out after our Rose Bowl win in 1998, “It’s great – uh huh – to be – uh huh – a Michigan Wolverine!”
Go Blue!!!
You see, there were two of us waiting on the third floor to go up. I didn’t know the other party, but I suspect that she is kind in nature, because when the elevator opened, she motioned for me to go in first. And I would have…except, I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to get into the elevator, and so I insisted that she go ahead. So while I continued my mental deliberation, she stepped in without any hesitation; it was evident that she didn’t have any concern, but I certainly did. Because there were three men already standing in the elevator, and one of them was wearing this t-shirt whose sight was enough to make me sick to my stomach.
But I knew that I had to big bigger than the red O that spread across this man’s chest. I would share the elevator with an Ohio State Fan. And so I got in, and explained my delay and indecision. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into the elevator when I saw your t-shirt. I’m a Michigan grad.”
The Buckeye responded, “Oh, I feel sorry for you guys.”
To which I replied, “Yeah, the past few years have been rather brutal.”
My football friend, Coach Keith Schulte, later told me that I should have responded by saying, “Don’t feel sorry for us. Michigan has one of the greatest running football programs in college football history, and we have at least a dozen more wins over Ohio State than they have over us.”
Coach Schulte is right. And as we shouted and sang out after our Rose Bowl win in 1998, “It’s great – uh huh – to be – uh huh – a Michigan Wolverine!”
Go Blue!!!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Considering Cubic Zirconium
Assignment:
In your first month in New York
1. Meet three, interesting, out of the ordinary type people
2. Do something random and adventurous
3. Stumble upon a job for me.
The assignment was given to me by one of my former college students who dropped by my place the day before I made the big move to the Big Apple. I thought perhaps it might be a wee bit difficult to accomplish the task of meeting three unusual people in such a short time frame, but oh no - I’ve met well more than three. In a city like New York, meeting interesting people is not difficult to do.
In fact, my very first week in the city I met this guy named Andres from Colombia. The start of our conversation was rather confusing because I assumed that he was student studying at Columbia. Once we finally established that he was from Colombia (i.e. the country) and not going to Columbia (i.e. the university), we chatted about coffee. He insisted that the coffee you find in Colombia is far superior to any coffee you will ever drink at Starbucks. I believed him and told him I would be sure to try the coffee next time I’m in Colombia.
A few days later at the subway station I met another man from Colombia. He asked me a question about one of the subway trains and I made the mistake of replying. He (Ricardo) insisted on continuing the conversation onto the subway train where he sat down and made himself a little bit too comfortable beside me.
I’m beginning to think it might be a good idea to invest in a cubic zirconium ring to wear around the city to ward off creepy men. The problem with wearing such a ring is that I would also ward off potentially quality men at the same time. Perhaps I ought to get engaged and married for real to help alleviate the amount of creepsters hitting on me. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Or if it’s too difficult to find someone to marry, I suppose I could pretend not to speak any English. I could create my own language or perhaps just speak in tongues (see Bible, book of Acts.)
Before I exited the subway train, Ricardo informed that I would be married within a year. I’ll take that – as long as it’s not to him. Although, if it was to him, I might have the chance to go to Colombia and try the Colombian coffee that Andres was raving about. Hmmm… maybe I should have given him my number after all.
I know the assignment said three, and I only mentioned two, but I’ll be back with more stories – perhaps about the carriage driver at Central Park, or the cyclist, or that missed connection that I’m tempted to post on Craig’s List. And how can I forget that guy from New Zealand, actually make that two guys from New Zealand, and that other guy Sweden. And then there is my favorite - a friend I made on the plane on the way to New York – Julia, the yoga instructor from Norway. We recently met up at Union Square at a place called The Coffee Shop, which oddly enough specializes in Brazilian American food and drinks, not coffee.
In your first month in New York
1. Meet three, interesting, out of the ordinary type people
2. Do something random and adventurous
3. Stumble upon a job for me.
The assignment was given to me by one of my former college students who dropped by my place the day before I made the big move to the Big Apple. I thought perhaps it might be a wee bit difficult to accomplish the task of meeting three unusual people in such a short time frame, but oh no - I’ve met well more than three. In a city like New York, meeting interesting people is not difficult to do.
In fact, my very first week in the city I met this guy named Andres from Colombia. The start of our conversation was rather confusing because I assumed that he was student studying at Columbia. Once we finally established that he was from Colombia (i.e. the country) and not going to Columbia (i.e. the university), we chatted about coffee. He insisted that the coffee you find in Colombia is far superior to any coffee you will ever drink at Starbucks. I believed him and told him I would be sure to try the coffee next time I’m in Colombia.
A few days later at the subway station I met another man from Colombia. He asked me a question about one of the subway trains and I made the mistake of replying. He (Ricardo) insisted on continuing the conversation onto the subway train where he sat down and made himself a little bit too comfortable beside me.
I’m beginning to think it might be a good idea to invest in a cubic zirconium ring to wear around the city to ward off creepy men. The problem with wearing such a ring is that I would also ward off potentially quality men at the same time. Perhaps I ought to get engaged and married for real to help alleviate the amount of creepsters hitting on me. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Or if it’s too difficult to find someone to marry, I suppose I could pretend not to speak any English. I could create my own language or perhaps just speak in tongues (see Bible, book of Acts.)
Before I exited the subway train, Ricardo informed that I would be married within a year. I’ll take that – as long as it’s not to him. Although, if it was to him, I might have the chance to go to Colombia and try the Colombian coffee that Andres was raving about. Hmmm… maybe I should have given him my number after all.
I know the assignment said three, and I only mentioned two, but I’ll be back with more stories – perhaps about the carriage driver at Central Park, or the cyclist, or that missed connection that I’m tempted to post on Craig’s List. And how can I forget that guy from New Zealand, actually make that two guys from New Zealand, and that other guy Sweden. And then there is my favorite - a friend I made on the plane on the way to New York – Julia, the yoga instructor from Norway. We recently met up at Union Square at a place called The Coffee Shop, which oddly enough specializes in Brazilian American food and drinks, not coffee.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sea Streaking
“And this is where I get out and run.” I thanked the cab driver as I handed him some cash. It was 10:57 AM, and I had exactly three minutes to get to where I needed to be, otherwise my plans for the day would be ruined. I quickly exited the taxi and dashed across the street, running the rest of the way down 34th until it dead ended into the water. I gripped my cell phone tightly, monitoring its ever so slight, but significant changes in time. At 11:00 I stopped running, because I saw the boat that I was hoping to board – the one that departs daily at 11:00AM to take passengers to a remote beach in New Jersey. The boat, with the words Sea Streak on its side, was less than 100 yards away, yet I hadn’t even purchased a ticket.
But to my delight (and I hope to yours), the boat was still docked, and there were about a half dozen individuals lined up still waiting to board. I purchased my ticket at 11:01, got on board at 11:02, and at 11:03, we departed Manhattan’s shore.
I made my way to the upper deck to inhale the city view as we ventured down the East River. We sped by the city, making our way under the Williamsburg Bridge, the Manhattan Bridge, and then finally the Brooklyn Bridge. And of course, we passed the Statute of Liberty, standing prominently and proudly on Liberty Island, right beside Ellis Island.
Right around the Statue of Liberty, I got out my cell phone and texted one of my favorite people the message, “I’m on a boat!” To which, a man nearby questioned me, “Are you actually getting cell service out here?” I told him I was just sending a text and I wasn’t sure if it would go through. But being the darn extravert that I am, the conversation didn’t stop there. I had to explain that I was with All-tel, which essentially is Verizon, and then went on to rave about the great cell service that I get. And he continued the conversation by sharing with me the woes of his cell phone plan.
After our cell chat, he told me that his name is Eddie, and we shook hands. I informed him that I’ve met a couple of other Eddies this year - one when I was out rock climbing in Southern California and another one while I was in Chicago (who was actually my taxi driver who took me out for breakfast, which is another story for another day.) We conversed the rest of the way to Jersey, and by the time we got off the Sea Streak ferry, I sensed that he was inwardly and not so secretly hoping that we would spend the afternoon together. And I inwardly, and not so secretly, did my best to kindly blow him off, saying something along the lines of, “Well enjoy your day, perhaps I’ll see you on the Ferry on the way back.”
Even still, he lingered.
But thankfully as we neared the beach area, the women’s restroom came to my rescue. Conveniently I was able to excuse myself from his presence. It’s not that I minded having conversation with Eddie, but I took the day off of work for the very of purpose pulling away and having some alone time, and I really didn’t want him crashing my solo party.
From the restroom, just after 12 noon, I made my way out to the shoreline of Sandy Hook’s north beach, I settled in the sand on my beach towel with book The War of Art by Steven Pressfield in hand.
The author scolded me, exposed me, and encouraged me. He told me that I absolutely must start writing again. (Confession: it has been months.)
Later in the afternoon I decided to go for a jog down the beach, and so I changed into my much-needed sports bra, and started running barefoot down the shore, pondering the crisis of faith that one of my college students is facing. She is wrestling with a question that most everyone wrestles with at some point in their spiritual journey – how can God allow such awful things to happen in our world? Specifically, she wants to know how God can be so cruel. As I was running the Scripture that came to mind is John 11:35. A verse that states, “Jesus Wept.” Jesus wept. God wept. And I believe He still weeps. I don’t think God is playing the cruel card, but rather I think He is playing the compassion card and that the pain and suffering in this world disturbs him deeply.
My running thoughts were abruptly interrupted as found myself amidst a large group of people staked out on the beach. And for once, I could only wish for Speedos. Because the beach area I was running through, evidently didn’t believe in wearing any sort of swimwear.
Wow. Awkward. Weird. Gross. I was running through a nude beach. And suddenly I wondered just how Sea Streak Ferry Company got its middle name. I kept my eyes on the sand a few feet in front me trying to avoid the nakedness around me. I couldn’t help but to think back to University of Michigan’s naked mile that was still in existence my freshmen year of college. I had a paper that I had to write that night, and so I went to the computer lab, and occasionally someone would come in completely naked, sit down, and check their e-mail.
I safely made it back to my beach area, and after a dip in the ocean, I headed back to the Ferry pick up point.
Eddie found me on the way back to Manhattan, and before we parted ways, he made sure to tell me, “I have to admit, I find you to be extremely attractive, but I’m also extremely intimidated by you.”
I responded, “I’ve gotten that before. Perhaps that’s why I’m still single.”
But to my delight (and I hope to yours), the boat was still docked, and there were about a half dozen individuals lined up still waiting to board. I purchased my ticket at 11:01, got on board at 11:02, and at 11:03, we departed Manhattan’s shore.
I made my way to the upper deck to inhale the city view as we ventured down the East River. We sped by the city, making our way under the Williamsburg Bridge, the Manhattan Bridge, and then finally the Brooklyn Bridge. And of course, we passed the Statute of Liberty, standing prominently and proudly on Liberty Island, right beside Ellis Island.
Right around the Statue of Liberty, I got out my cell phone and texted one of my favorite people the message, “I’m on a boat!” To which, a man nearby questioned me, “Are you actually getting cell service out here?” I told him I was just sending a text and I wasn’t sure if it would go through. But being the darn extravert that I am, the conversation didn’t stop there. I had to explain that I was with All-tel, which essentially is Verizon, and then went on to rave about the great cell service that I get. And he continued the conversation by sharing with me the woes of his cell phone plan.
After our cell chat, he told me that his name is Eddie, and we shook hands. I informed him that I’ve met a couple of other Eddies this year - one when I was out rock climbing in Southern California and another one while I was in Chicago (who was actually my taxi driver who took me out for breakfast, which is another story for another day.) We conversed the rest of the way to Jersey, and by the time we got off the Sea Streak ferry, I sensed that he was inwardly and not so secretly hoping that we would spend the afternoon together. And I inwardly, and not so secretly, did my best to kindly blow him off, saying something along the lines of, “Well enjoy your day, perhaps I’ll see you on the Ferry on the way back.”
Even still, he lingered.
But thankfully as we neared the beach area, the women’s restroom came to my rescue. Conveniently I was able to excuse myself from his presence. It’s not that I minded having conversation with Eddie, but I took the day off of work for the very of purpose pulling away and having some alone time, and I really didn’t want him crashing my solo party.
From the restroom, just after 12 noon, I made my way out to the shoreline of Sandy Hook’s north beach, I settled in the sand on my beach towel with book The War of Art by Steven Pressfield in hand.
The author scolded me, exposed me, and encouraged me. He told me that I absolutely must start writing again. (Confession: it has been months.)
Later in the afternoon I decided to go for a jog down the beach, and so I changed into my much-needed sports bra, and started running barefoot down the shore, pondering the crisis of faith that one of my college students is facing. She is wrestling with a question that most everyone wrestles with at some point in their spiritual journey – how can God allow such awful things to happen in our world? Specifically, she wants to know how God can be so cruel. As I was running the Scripture that came to mind is John 11:35. A verse that states, “Jesus Wept.” Jesus wept. God wept. And I believe He still weeps. I don’t think God is playing the cruel card, but rather I think He is playing the compassion card and that the pain and suffering in this world disturbs him deeply.
My running thoughts were abruptly interrupted as found myself amidst a large group of people staked out on the beach. And for once, I could only wish for Speedos. Because the beach area I was running through, evidently didn’t believe in wearing any sort of swimwear.
Wow. Awkward. Weird. Gross. I was running through a nude beach. And suddenly I wondered just how Sea Streak Ferry Company got its middle name. I kept my eyes on the sand a few feet in front me trying to avoid the nakedness around me. I couldn’t help but to think back to University of Michigan’s naked mile that was still in existence my freshmen year of college. I had a paper that I had to write that night, and so I went to the computer lab, and occasionally someone would come in completely naked, sit down, and check their e-mail.
I safely made it back to my beach area, and after a dip in the ocean, I headed back to the Ferry pick up point.
Eddie found me on the way back to Manhattan, and before we parted ways, he made sure to tell me, “I have to admit, I find you to be extremely attractive, but I’m also extremely intimidated by you.”
I responded, “I’ve gotten that before. Perhaps that’s why I’m still single.”
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Hollywood
Tonight I went to this club in Hollywood called The Highlands. It’s located on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland Avenue – just down the street from the Kodak Theater where red carpet is laid for the Oscars each year.
When I arrived at the club, I didn’t enter alone.
You see, we had spent the entire afternoon together playing at the beach and when I decided that I wasn’t ready to go back to Riverside, we headed up the 101 towards Hollywood.
It seemed like a good idea, but once we found parking, I started to wonder if I was making some sort of mistake that I’d later regret. I snuck in a quick phone conversation with my friend Lisa and she assured me that it would be okay.
To be honest, I wanted to leave “him” at the car. I didn’t want people to see us together on the streets of Hollywood, but it didn’t appear that I had much of a choice. If I left him at the car he wouldn’t be there when I returned.
So we walked the stars together. And everyone kept staring at us – especially men. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing high heels. I’m not one to get embarrassed, and I wasn’t, but I did feel awkward. Pretty much anything goes in Hollywood, but we were pushing even Hollywood's limits – especially when we hopped on the escalators to get the 4th floor.
I was relieved once we were inside the club because that’s when I was finally able to drop him. And really I did. I left him hanging at the coat room and joined my friends Joy and Erica out on the floor. Of course, I didn't leave him there; I made sure to pick him up on my way out. After all, it’s my surfboard that we’re talking about. :)
* I’m a part of a sweet community called Mosaic. Typically we meet at the Mayan Club in downtown LA, but tonight we met in Hollywood. For more information on Mosaic (and great podcasts!), go to Mosaic.org
When I arrived at the club, I didn’t enter alone.
You see, we had spent the entire afternoon together playing at the beach and when I decided that I wasn’t ready to go back to Riverside, we headed up the 101 towards Hollywood.
It seemed like a good idea, but once we found parking, I started to wonder if I was making some sort of mistake that I’d later regret. I snuck in a quick phone conversation with my friend Lisa and she assured me that it would be okay.
To be honest, I wanted to leave “him” at the car. I didn’t want people to see us together on the streets of Hollywood, but it didn’t appear that I had much of a choice. If I left him at the car he wouldn’t be there when I returned.
So we walked the stars together. And everyone kept staring at us – especially men. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing high heels. I’m not one to get embarrassed, and I wasn’t, but I did feel awkward. Pretty much anything goes in Hollywood, but we were pushing even Hollywood's limits – especially when we hopped on the escalators to get the 4th floor.
I was relieved once we were inside the club because that’s when I was finally able to drop him. And really I did. I left him hanging at the coat room and joined my friends Joy and Erica out on the floor. Of course, I didn't leave him there; I made sure to pick him up on my way out. After all, it’s my surfboard that we’re talking about. :)
* I’m a part of a sweet community called Mosaic. Typically we meet at the Mayan Club in downtown LA, but tonight we met in Hollywood. For more information on Mosaic (and great podcasts!), go to Mosaic.org
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
After Thoughts
Wrote a post...
Deleted a post...
I'll be back with something different.
Or perhaps I'll decide to repost the same.
Deleted a post...
I'll be back with something different.
Or perhaps I'll decide to repost the same.
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