Bejellany of Four Years Past

I last posted on this blog in February of 2010, the month I was released from the asylum known as PSU, which I believe stands for Piano School University. I'm happy to say I've since received my piano certification from said uni, and I've traveled the world and had a few conversations with the locals, dated several other people, and held down several fleeting jobs that have nonetheless paid the rent and then some. I have yet to try wasabi ice cream or punch Anne Hathaway in the face, but I do not count this among my disappointments.

Also, this dick diddler kicked the bucket.

One thing that has not changed is what should have been diagnosed as ADHD back in the day but is now considered an endearing endless "curiosity" now that I'm approaching my late 20s, and thus death. 

I see what you did there, Death. And I think you're RUDE.

Let us not despair, however, that I've learned nothing more or experienced anything meaningful in the five years since my last musings on this here relic of a digital journal. From my fascination with all things morbid, the seed long planted ago has sprung to life along with Spring here in Japan, and I've decided to return to school on an entirely different tract. I believe I am the first of my generation to daringly do so.

Recently, my attentions have been directed toward the most intriguing field of phytoremediation. My questions range from Who they? to What do? And why? Perhaps the most recognized case of bioremediation has been the disappointing efforts following the tragedy at Chernobyl and for which sunflowers were hoped to be a solution for absorbing radioactive cesium from the soil surrounding the site of the devastated nuclear reactor.

In the meantime, I daylight as an English teacher in a place the people here call "Koriyama", which is located in Fukushima prefecture, not far from the epicenter of the massive earthquake and tsunami that occurred in March of 2011. At that time, I was just beginning a job working as a copy editor at a science journal in New York after nearly a year stint at a hostel on the Upper West Side, which is capitalized because it is a recognized province by Rand McNally.

The job, lucrative as it was, afforded little in the way of interaction with humans, movement, and general life happiness, yet I have my former coworkers to thank for many things. I'd name them, but I've just eaten a tremendous amount of rice, and one finds it difficult to type on a rice-heavy stomach.

That much closer to replacing Kotooshu

I close instead with a list of my favorite stories over the years past. Whether they're in order or true, well, I couldn't give a soggy toss. I do hope, however, that the future has more in store, that a bit of chaos returns to shake up the lone nights feasting in my apartment and shopping adventures deciding what scent I'd like my clothes to have for the month (I made the gross error of choosing Bubblegum for February. Ne'er ag-ayn). Behold: 

1. Along with my then-boyfriend, I saw Eddie Izzard perform at Madison Square Garden, the first comedian to perform at the venue. At a screening attended by a small crowd in an East Village cinema, Mr. Izzard made a surprise visit at the end of the film. I'm fairly certain I was unable to speak when I shook his hand.

2. I attained a one-year Hungarian residency on my own and for which I waited long, uncertain, nerve-wracking hours in the Immigration Office of Budapest. I bonded with the Chinese.

3. I RETURNED to Asheville, North Carolina, with my sister in tow. The trip was a bit of a disaster, mostly due to myself and one of the biggest storms to ever hit the east coast of the United States.

4. After listening to him play countless times on my way to work at the 42nd street metro station, I took lessons with a bluegrass violinist for a year. He was truly a magnificent soul, as was his most warm and welcoming family.

5. I attained a rather gorgeous accordion and an old, chocolately-sounding violin. I'd rather not divulge how I possessed the former.

6. While in Hungary, I fulfilled my dream of visiting Italy and Egypt. I then traveled to Oxford, London, Amsterdam, Aarhus (Denmark), and Norway after quitting Hungary. I met some wonderful people, re-met others, and saw the bluest waters, greenest mountains, and most-daring sheep in Stavanger, Norway.

7. I found out what happened to my childhood Winnie-the-Pooh blanket, an act of sabotage perpetrated by my diabolical, cotton-hatin' parents.

I've come some way since having to live in my car and on Mt. Nittany for two months after my lease ran out in State College, Pennsylvania, in 2009. I'm sure there are more experiences to recount -- rewarding, embarrassing, depressing, confusing, arousing, disturbing -- but I've heard that posts over 900 characters can shorten your lifespan by five years.

  

Movin' On Up

Blew this joint, but will probably be back after Wordpress fails to satisfy my needs. Until then, do visit!

http://soundsofanafterlife.wordpress.com/

What are you living for?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Philly Revisted

I never knew Philadelphia's 30th Street Station was so large. Nor did I dream they had wireless I could swipe from the nice little cafe, Cosi, from which I bought nothing. My head is heavy with thoughts and time, so I'm even more thankful for the clean bistro tables inside, though I don't think the umbrellas overhead are necessary.

After a night of lazing around and watching a surprisingly good horror flick, Hide and Seek, Colleen and I set out late the following day to the Mutter Museum. Despite an upset stomach, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the numerous cabinets filled with jars of formaldehyde-dunked brains and spiraling cochleas, poor disfigured and gruesome souls that never made it out of the womb alive and the giant 5-foot-long, forty-pound colon coiled like a snake next to a cabinet of eerie, smiling skeletons. We were even more intrigued by the mysterious shrunken heads in glass cases upstairs, as well as the nearby soap lady, frozen in an unusual decaying state with a look of horror on her anthracitic face.

Once we had enough of floating abnormalities and a lengthy, but fascinating recap history lesson of Lincoln and his assassin (Yes, the museum has a piece of Booth there, but nothing of Lincoln's), I decided it was high time to take Colleen's Philly Cheesesteak virginity. Though I've been there before, Geno's never fails to satisfy a rumbling belly. With some cheese fries on the side, I left satisfied, while Colleen's stomach decided whether or not it liked so much Cheez Whiz. (It didn't.) That night, we teamed up with the lovely Suzann and her engineer boyfriend, Dan, to spend the night boozing and bowling in Glen Mills.

Now it's time to leave, and I'm astounded how quickly the weekend flew by. Always the enemy, Time. Yet, nothing was wasted, and just as I took so much away from a conversation with my grandmother about her life during the war, I learned a great deal more about the Mazazula and how she views life. Perhaps she has changed in the past few years, but I believe that for a long time, I ignored or was at least blithely unaware of what she most desired once we graduated from high school and college - that being a family and a home in which to settle down. What I couldn't have predicted, however, was the person with whom she'd plan out this life and where this settling would take place.

I never once imagined myself returning to Blairsville to live, let alone spend more than a week or two, but that's exactly what she plans to do. There's nothing wrong with the place, nor the current to-be husband she's with, but regardless, the idea of settling at this age at all, no matter a small town or large city, scares me more than anything. To me, it's like sealing the deal with Death, but for her, it's everything she's dreamed of and more. Her boyfriend has a wonderful family, she'll undoubtedly have good kids and the relationship she's in is one of the best working ones I've seen. So what's so bad about settling and creating that close-knit family? What does it matter where you are, so long as you're with the people you love?

I believe there's no right track for anyone, but her path doesn't sound like the one for me. I feel as though I have to keep moving, continue learning and never stop seeing until I finally drop dead of exhaustion. I know I won't be in New York long, and it makes me incredibly sad that I'll be forced to leave friends like Colleen behind to pursue whatever it is I'm trying to pursue. For now, however, I'm worried for Colleen, but more happy for her than anything. Thanks to her and Jess, Philly will always remain a special destination to me and I'll be ready to visit again soon enough.

We Know Time

"We know time." This mantra is repeated often throughout Kerouac's On The Road and to me, conjures up the image of one sweat-soaked Dean Moriarty, a protagonist who pops in and out of the narrator's life throughout his travels on the roads of America. He also symbolizes a futile resistance against death, always aware that his "time" is limited and that even sleeping would allow for his demise to be one step closer.

Cassady and Kerouac/Moriarty and Paradise

For a few weeks now, I've felt my time slipping through my fingers, and at times, have even felt as if though I've been floating, watching the mad circus of life march past me in a frenzy, like a mad Dean Moriarty furiously whipping past in an old Cadillac as I stand on the side of the road, paralyzed by just the thought of joining the dance of life and death. Lately, I've resorted to my senses - touching, smelling - to take stock of my surroundings, and hopefully once again feel life's pulse, rather than getting lost in the rush of it all. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, so I decided it'd be a good idea to write about what has been happening since I last posted. Hopefully, this will make things slow down and properly put into order what I've recently only seen as a frightful chaos; then maybe I won't know time so dreadfully personally.

Since I last posted, my internship at Family Travel Forum ended and I continued the exhaustive task of job searching. I had been applying to a mix of places for some time, but only recently did I learn of and apply to a public relations company known as Quinn & Co. The job, a travel and public relations intern, didn't pan out unfortunately, and so I was forced to keep looking for other options. The same week, however, I had tentatively handed in my resume to Hostelling International, the same building housing the Family Travel Forum office. While I possibly have an interview for the front desk position, I'm excited nonetheless; I'll no longer have to worry about money, I can study languages for the possibility of grad school, and I can spend any extra cash on violin lessons, something I've wanted to do for some time now.

Though I wouldn't consider it a job, I was also accepted as a historical writer for Examiner.com. In all the mess of job searching, interviewing, New York's miserable weather, and finishing up at FTF, however, I've only completed one article. Yet, with the possibility of the hostel job, I hope I can tackle all of these things and more.

While I've barely accomplished much in the past month, the future has several things in store: In early March, I have a coffee date (tentative) with Andrew Mersmann, Editor-in-Chief of Passport Magazine. I'm excited not only to meet the head of such a well-known and amazing publication, but also the author of 500 Places Where You Can Make A Difference, which I only discovered in the last week thanks to my FTF editor, Kyle McCarthy. While I would love to work at Passport and there's always a small chance that Mr. Mersmann may take interest in me at his publication, I'm happy just to meet someone of his standing and genius. Just as my editor has been so helpful and considerate since I arrived at FTF (She bought me a dapper winter coat!), I hope Mr. Mersmann can at least point me in some direction and allow me to tap his mind for advice and his experiences.

Besides work and job hunting, I've been itching to get out of the city and do a little traveling. After writing up a release on Greyhound's $5 fares from New York to Philadelphia, I decided to take them up on their supposed offer and jump on the bus to see my long lost dear friend, the Mazazula. Unfortunately, Greyhound wouldn't give up its promised goodies, but where one door closed, a better one opened. Tomorrow, I'll be shipping out on the ever-comfortable two-decker Megabus for a short two-hour jaunt west to Philly. I can hardly wait to see Gino's, let alone Colleen and those other crazy cats of brotherly and sisterly love, among them my own sister.

Then, speaking of family, I'll be catching a flight down to Jacksonville, Florida from JFK, while my mother boards in Pittsburgh. From March 4th to the 7th, we'll be enjoying the perks of my final press trip in connection with Family Travel Forum (Unless, of course, they want to give me any more!). Bike tours, lounging on the beach, excellent food: A good way to take a break before possibly beginning a long but beneficial haul at the hostel.

Go, go, go. Another of Dean's frenzied phrases, and something I believe fits my lifestyle as well. Yet, I'm glad I could stop and write down these thoughts, just to simply observe everything I have accomplished and jolt my senses back into reality. I think once the warmer months hit New York, I'll also be ready to hit the pavement again and get more accomplished. I'm nervous, anxious, excited, confused, determined, hesitant and ready all at once, but at least I can actually feel these things.

These Streets Make Me Feel Brand New

Last night, my roommate and I stayed up until 7 in the morning talking, watching videos, listening to music and just having a chill hangout in my room. We touched upon so many subjects and interesting tangents, but what I really enjoyed was our talk of being in the city and all of our accomplishments since we arrived here at 2F Cooper. We've been to swanky and posh (and not-so-swanky-and-posh- press events, had our fill of the subway system day in and day out, and have seen and done some great things. There are oodles of things we have yet to do, and once Spring and Summer hit, our lives will really be in full swing.

I recalled some of my experiences while exploring the city, and realized just how much I've taken for granted here in New York: the sightseeing my sister and I did over Thanksgiving break, the Brooklyn excursions Scott and I would go on during weekends and the live concerts I've been fortunate enough to attend outside of work purposes. Just last night, Scott and I went to see Eddie Izzard live at Madison Square Garden. The tickets weren't cheap, but it was the first time I had been in the Garden and, on top of my own historical visit, Mr. Izzard is the first comedian to have performed in the arena! I think to myself now how significant that is and how great it was to have been there for it. Soon, Kathy Griffin will take the stage there, and while it's incredible that we're here and can experience that, too, we shrug and "consider" the possibility. This mentality really hit us both: We're living in city, we work here and these things are great, but have to jive with our schedules.

It'll be fun to see what the next few months will bring and as we start hitting warmer weather. We're all over the cold, the rain, the snow. For now, though, I'm having an amazing time and couldn't have asked for better friends with whom I can live it up!

The World is a Crazy Place

Lately, I've been thinking about the universe and all the things in it and hot dogs and German toast. Und I realized like every other tawdry poofter who takes the time to smell the hibiscus shrub just how crazy this place truly is. It made me happy and slightly crazy.

The first evidence of this madness popped up in a YouTube related search to something involving Turkish bath houses and vitriolic acids, subjects that I often find myself researching at work. From what I gather, a place in Uzbekistan near the small town of Darvaz is popularly known as "The Door to Hell," and it's easy to see where it gets its sinister name. The story attributed to this Hellish portal goes as such: While drilling for gas, geologists discovered a massive underground cavern filled with gas. To prevent the poisonous gas from escaping the hole, they...ignited it. Logic notwithstanding, the fire has been burning brightly ever since - for well over 30 years. I recall that I once wrote a post on the abandoned eternally burning town of Centralia, Pennsylvania, where people actually still live despite the dangers of the unstable ground. Creepy!

This next instance of world-poppycock is found in Russia. Large holes in the ground of Russian forests have been discovered, but leave no explanation to what they might be. Though I think this might be a hoax or an easy explainable phenomenon, one of the comments added to the story had this theory to offer:

Another interesting detail posted in the comments is that the holes seemed to have been dug from the bottom up, not downwards. Some commentors suggested that these holes could be tree holes, which are created when volcanic ash settles around a tree, hardens, and becomes the hole you see here. Others have suggested that the holes are chimney entrances tino caves.

I say they're chamberpots for the gods. Mysterious holes, indeed.



While I love what Mother Nature and divine beings have done with the place, humankind has really gone above and beyond as explorers and creative inventors. One in particular, photographer Arthur Mole, added another chapter to human achievement by arranging and photographing large masses of living bodies to create national and religious symbols, such as the side profile of Woodrow Wilson seen below.



It's a bit off from the general theme here, but still shows how random the world can be: Check out these Houses in Remote Places. I'm not sure how long I'd last living in any of these secluded places, but to simply visit would be a fantastic break from the chaos of the city.

There are so many more bizarre going-ons out there - from insanely beautiful subways (My commute would be so much better if New York's system followed example) to abandoned cities - but I leave off with a personal experience: On the final day of my trip to Boston, Scott and I arrived early at Bay Station for the bus back to New York City. While he was using the restroom, an older man with nose hairs so long I mistook them for his moustache, approached me and asked, "Are you an actor?" My ego immediately perked up and I blushed, but kindly told him I wasn't. "Are you from New York City?" Ah, my ego chimed in again, just like in movies and tv shows, where people from the big city are mistook for attractive actors and models. "Do you know Macauley Culkin?" Sensing the conversation was taking a turn for the worse, I shook my head - but this didn't effectively kill the conversation. He rambled on with two completely unrelated tangents, paused suddenly, and then said, "Oh, well, I thought I saw you walking around with him last year in the city." Speechless. "Okay, well, anyways, just wondering if you had some spare change for a coffee. Bye!"

As he lumbered off, Scott returned and we sat in silence for a little before I retold my bizarre experience that took place just seconds before. Such an insignificant event, yet that small interaction stuck with me. People are just fascinating and whether he was just trying to talk me up for some kleingeld or actually attempting to stimulate thoughtful conversation (that I was just not having at the time), I'll probably never see him again. I meet so many people in the world everyday and discover so many interesting stories simply sitting here in my office chair at home. The world is truly a crazy place!