Filed under: Dreams, My Day, My Explanations | Tags: amazing, art, beer, biker, bikers, board, community, counting, fun, gowanda, gowanda's historic hollywood theatre, happening, harley davidson, hollywood happening, jono, kiener, live, lives, living, love, music, nickolas, porta-potty, randy, reads, search, shape, singing, something, song, stage, stage crew, ten, the arts, the happening, theater, theatre, tokens, weekend, wish, zach
It reads on the board they gave me: “Those who wish to sing will always find a song.”
It’s just a little simple board. Three feet by six inches, I’d guess, with the words carved into it, laquered with black paint.
And it is so true.
This weekend I have busted my ass with members of Gowanda’s Historic Hollywood Theatre board and other volunteers. I mostly spent time working with Zach and Kiener (and occasionally Michelle, who usually was occupied with other things). We dealt with heavy loads of garbage, changed toilet paper in porta-potties, swept cigarette butts and shop-vacced puddles. We walked in the wet and took forty-minute power naps in the trailer. We counted to ten (beer tokens in Dixie cups) literally thousands of times. I helped my mom and Karen sell beer tokens to hundreds of people wasted or wanting to get wasted. Then, finally, Zach, Kiener, Nickolas and I assisted Randy, Jono and the stage guys with dismantling the heavy (mostly) aluminum stage.
I am beat. And I fucking love it.
You know, people search all their lives for something to live for, something they want to work for. Something they can shape their lives around.
I have mine. The arts and the effect they can have on people are astonishing. For this theatre, there is an annual event that brings together members of the community and bikers from all over the country. Money is raised and funds go to restoring a historical landmark that will draw more culture and revenue to a village that has pooled more strength and unity together over the past twelve months than most areas will see in a decade.
That’s why I’m here. To live, to sing, to have fun. To value my friends, family, and the fact that I am able to appreciate and execute hard, break-your-back work as well as any boy.
I know what I love and am completely willing to bust my ass for it.
It’s been a great weekend.
Filed under: Events, My Day, Random Thoughts, Ranting, travel | Tags: alcohol, arriba, bacardi, beer, beverages, cancun, chicos, club soda, dad, drinks, fridge, hombres, johnnie walker, leave, meesh, mexicans, mexico, michelle, money, mother, nickolas, ocean, people, provocative, shit, smirnoff, stocked, travel, water
The Room (2730), At the Little Table, from the Chair on the Right if One Was Facing the Table, Southernmost Corner of the Room. Under the Weird Textured Picture, on the Smooth, Cream-Marbled tile of the Slightly Sandy Floor.
Gran Caribe Real Resort
Cancun, Mexico
The cleaning ladies (and there are very few cleaning men) will be coming soon. I’m not sure if I should send them away or force Meesh and myself out on the porch/verandah. She (Meesh) is trying to take a nap; or will after she finished reading . I don’t want to have to poke at her to relocate. I mean, the cleaning ladies will come back, won’t they? They can’t make the bed around my sister, anyway, so I guess they’re going to have to. Ha.
Yeah, and they kind of suck here. I don’t want to sound like a jerk, and in their (cute, beaded) shoes, I probably would hate my job, too. But, shit, they’re jsut awful. Mom and Dad gave a guy a tip yesterday to bring back caffeinated coffee for our room– and with a “Si, right away,” he never cam eback. What the hell? My mother spent a lot of money to have a prestocked minifridge (we lacked treats, pop, and water, but did get tequila, Bacardi, Smirnoff, Johnnie Walker and club soda, also beer that tasted like piss. None of which any of my family members enjoy for a cool refreshing beverage. Now, Corona would ahve been okay but there wasn’t any of that (fine by me, but give me water instead, at least). And we only had decaf cafe. No bueno, hombre.
Now, at least, we have some pop (I’m slurping a Pepsi light as we speak), and more water, but they actually gave mymother shit about restocking. They responded with surprise when seh requested six waters and some carbonated drinks. As if it’s not freaking ninety degrees here every day. As if we didn’t fork over upwards of four point five thousand dolores for a god-blessed stocked fridge, some snacks, actual coffee and some servesa that doesn’t give the people who sponsor their salaries attitude. I feel like I’m going to leave Mexico with mixed feelings and the taste of crappy beer and club soda in my mouth because of some of these people.
This is not to mention los chicos who arriba-ed at me yesterday. Mom, Meesh, and I were walking back from the Flamingo Mall. I wasn’t even dressed provocatively, or anything.
More later, though, I guess. We watched the television for a little while and now Meesh and I are heading out to meet Nickolas and Dad for what may be one of our last swims in the ocean.
Filed under: college, Events, My Day, My Explanations, Random Thoughts, Ranting, travel, Writing | Tags: beach, burrs, cancun, conversation, eastman, evening, family, friends, mexico, miserable, myself, nickolas, parents, roar, sand, sigh, slap, solid, syracuse
The Hammock on the Verandah Thing
I don’t know what time it is; past 8 or 9, PM
Gran Caribe Real Hotel
Cancun, Mexico
It’s too nice out to stay inside. Even without the sun, it’s comfortably warm and not so humid that it’s unpleasant. It’s quiet right now, although Michelle plans to try and get us all drunk later. She and my parents, and the Burrs (minus Nickolas) are up at the VIP Lounge. Despite the fact that the computers are all in Spanish, they’re going to try and figure out the score of the Sabres’ game.
I would write more about the pretty weather or the cranky Mexicans who hate their jobs, or the tan I’m actually beginning to obtain (with the help of El Sol and SPF 90). But honestly, I’m a terrible Travel Journal-Keeper and have more on my mind than heat or relaxing in Cancun.
Fun Fact/Side Note: Soundtrack of the Momemt? Roar/slap/sigh of beautiful, powerful waves. Aaaand the drunken catcalls of tourists: “Sexaay ladaay!” in a Mexican accent. So cute. Tierna.
But. Back to, I have a lot on my mind.
I don’t feel like Myself. I haven;t really, since (and I am aware this sounds like whining) this school year began and played out so much differently than I’d expected it to.
This summer, I became someone I liked, someone I enjoyed being. And since senior year started, there have been huge gaping chunks of time where I haven’t been that person at all.
Like now, for instance. For the past few weeks I’ve been strangely detached and incapable of socializing similarly to my usual standard. And before that time, I’d been flat-out miserable.
Now that spring is coming (here in the North and here it’s like late summer), I’ve been wanted Myself back more and more. But there are minds making impressions of me. There are expectations to live up to.
Syracuse or Eastman, Syracuse or Eastman? What to say, what to do?
Who the hell am I?
I’m not as solid as Nick is, in terms of possessing and really owning up to one’s own identity. But we shared a conversation as the fire-opal waves swelled and broke on the beach. This is the second night in a row we’ve just sat out there in the dark. He looks out at the waves, at the sky, down the beach. I absorb the sensations of sea breeze and sand between my toes. We mostly just be. Sit, and talk, and be.
Last night it was John Jarzynski. Tonight it was parasailing, Dan Ratel, school, teaching, and our futures.
Tonight I told the first person my official college plans (as of right now, there are some things I am waiting on).
Tonight, Nick and I discussed and concluded. It’s always good to listen, to drink in opinions. To have an “open ear,” as he said. But (and these are my words), make your own goddamn choices. Sorry, but hell. I love my friends, family, mentors, but shit. I answer to Myself (whoever that is) and God. I might now be an independent adult, but I’m not a hermit, not a recluse.
It’s time to grow up. And it’s going to be hard, but only as hard as I make it.
Speaking for Myself, I’m ready to.
Filed under: Events, My Day, travel | Tags: ñ, brenda, burrs, cancun, father, karen, keyboard, mark, meesh, mexico, michelle, mom, nickolas, tilde, tom, travel, trip, weird
I will naturally have much, much more to say later, but right now I couldn’t help but blog from a Spanish keyboard! Nothing is where it’s supposed to be. Do not be surprised if there are very few contractions in this post.
The weather is astonishing here. We have had some issues, but shit, we are in Cancun! Right now I am typing from the VIP Lounge (ha ha ha) as my mom and Meesh sit at other computers and my father and Nickolas play pool.
Other than that, I am exhausted. And I had wanted to get in on that pool game. So I’m out. And man is it a search for that apostrophe, it is way up at the top of the keyboard. Weird, weird. But still cool.
Here are some tildes for you…
ñ ñ ñ ñ ñ
Enjoy them until I blog again (probably when I am back in los estados unidos).
Filed under: college, Essays/School, My Day, Random Thoughts | Tags: air, because, blogging, blue, book, book club, books, brendan, bye, college, course, drizzle, english, eyes, fat, frankenstein, garden, gardening, gorgeous, gowanda high school, headache, home, hooome, house, jcc english, lab, mary shelley, melancholy, nickolas, outside, potter, propp, rain, reading, thoughts, throb, walk, weather, yellow
I want to go outside and take a walk. Despite the cooler air and rainy disposition of the weather, it’s still gorgeous and I feel like gardening. The chapter we had to read for Brendan’s book club talked about gardening. And Jarrett Stevens’ yellow Lab.
I miss my yellow Lab. Sweet fat Potter.
Oh well and the drizzle makes me melancholy.
I just finished my Frankennotes and they are sixteen pages long. Well, it’s a college course. She asked for my thoughts, and I gave them to her.
I have a headache. And yes, this is all pointless rambling but I really crave home right now and blogging is as close as I’m going to get until three. Assuming Nickolas can stay after. But my eyes are tired and my head is throbbing and like a little kid, I want to go hooome.
Maybe it’s because it’s sunk in that, next year, it will cease being my place. Granted I will always find a home there, but that blue house will become justahouse and my life will commence elsewhere. I want to absorb the family that we are now and the home we have together for the few short months it will remain as-is. Then I’ll be okay for the change. I hope.
I also hope that my best friend Nick isn’t staying. Then I can leave.
Well, it’s off to turn in Frankenstein. Bye.
Kick Drum Heart 