rockin' it old school

Tonight, I dusted off my old Schirmer sonatina book for the first time in a long time. Usually I'm pretty rusty when it comes to classical these days, and it takes me a while to get back in the groove, what with all their runs and fingerings. It also makes me realize just how much I simplify and leave out notes when playing the pop and Broadway stuff -- 't'ain't so easy with classical.

But I did pretty well tonight. One of my favorites to play is the Clementi Sonatina Op. 36 No. 4 first movement, "Con spirito." So if you ever wanted to hear me play something classical, here's your chance: Con spirito (416 K mp3). Incidentally, the piano teacher who taught me this one called it a "manly" sonatina, because all of her male students seemed to like it.

job update

My resume is up to date.

Two weeks ago Wednesday, our company president corralled us for a meeting at the end of the day. He informed us that, as usual, the company is tight on cash and needs to make more from sales of the year's new products. To help alleviate the financial problem, he is again attempting a restructuring, although this time a little more gung-ho than previous attempts.

For starters, he fired our shipping guy -- not just because of this situation, but also a problem with a major shipment that was sent to the wrong state for a trade show. Our receptionist was promoted to shipping. A production person had quit the day prior, so there's another savings.

Then he said our editor will now work from home full time as an independent contractor, and will be paid per-page just as other freelance engravers are. He claimed she would be making the same as she is now, but "we'll save on payroll taxes." Well, no, actually, she'll have to pay 100% of Social Security, Medicare, et al., plus self-employment taxes and filing quarterly... so she'll effectively be earning less. Plus, if the company prints less music or contracts out to other engravers, she'll have less work to do.

He assured us that "no one in this room is getting fired." He asked if we had any questions; no one did. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, "We should probably think about making Bryan an independent contractor too... {pause} Well, we'll talk about it in the morning."

At first, I saw the positives: I could work from home -- I already use my own laptop at work anyway -- and have flexible hours, so I could work on my other freelance projects during the day as well; I would save money on gas; I could deduct home office expenses on my tax return; for financial-stability reasons, I should be looking for a new job, and as a full-time freelancer, it would be easier to schedule job interviews. As the prez and I briefly discussed, part of the problem with my job currently is that tasks without deadlines get set aside because other things take priority. There is always something "more important," so those get pushed to the front while other things that just need to be some "sometime" fall behind (and any time I attempt to work on said projects, I have another do-this-rrrrrright-now in my face). His thinking was that if I were freelancing, they could just assign me a project and I'd work on it and finish it. I don't know that it would actually happen that way in practice, but it's a nice ideal.

But as I walked out the door, my first thought was............. *drum roll plz*.......... HEALTH INSURANCE. I'm still getting CAT Scans every four months for the next year and a half, and a few more beyond that. If I had to go find my own insurance, the coverage may be limited and/or the premiums would be astronomical. The way to avoid that is with "group insurance," but such plans require an employer who offers it (such as my current one).

My second thought was, will I be paid "the same as I am now," like our editor? When I'm freelancing, I charge more than double the wage I make at my full-time job (partly because of taxes and partly because I'm on the very low end of what graphic designers of my level earn in such positions anyway, so "double" still isn't unrealistic). If I were an independent contractor, would he be willing to pay my rate?

I started reading up on COBRA and checking the job ads just to see what was out there. I saw this as my "out" -- this will force me to find a higher-paying job so I can at last snip the apron strings and live on my own.

The next day, he called me into his office. I was ready, notepad in hand, and pulled up a chair. He said he realized that if I were an independent contractor, I would lose my health insurance, and would probably run into all that "pre-existing" malarkey, and he didn't want to screw me over like that. So they're going to keep me as a regular employee, but might reduce my hours. That was it. Sixty seconds and we were done. Cancer saved my job.

I'm officially on the market now, though. Last Friday was my third year anniversary. It's time to leave this company. It was a great place to start after college, but I've grown as a designer about as much as I can there. There is no room for advancement; pay raises are very few and far between (over two years for my last one). There is no retirement benefit. And now, I may be facing reduced hours. I don't want to live with my parents forever -- even if it does mean I can afford to take trips to New York and whatnot. It's time to move on and put the for now in "only for now."

WAAAAHHH

I WANNA GO TO CEDAR POINT WHY ISN'T IT SUMMER YET

{{kicks chair}}

That's about the only news I've got.

sinkwad

I'm taking a bit of a risk in posting this here, but... what the hey. I'm finally starting to develop my comic strip. Perhaps against better judgment, I've already chosen a name: Sinkwad.

Now, before you go thinking that has something to do with the nasty gunk in the sink drain, it's an initialism for "Single Income, No Kids, With A Dog." I'm not the first person to come up with the term, but it's still fairly obscure yet easy to pronounce. The main character will be a guy who lives in an apartment with a beagle -- in other words, he's a SINKWAD, and is probably what I will be some day if I can ever command a high enough salary to move out of my parents' house. *ahem*

Without further ado, I present... sinkwad.com. There's not much to see yet except two sketches and a few descriptions, but I figure the more people I know are checking the site, the more pressure/motivation I'll feel to actually work on it. :) As always, constructive criticism is highly welcome.

vignette

Six years ago tonight was another St. Patrick's Friday, and it was a fairly important one for me. The previous week had been spring break, and I opted to stay home and relax rather than trek up to New York with the Men's Chorus. It seemed to me things were going well; business as usual.

But on this particular Friday night, the confluence of several events created a Perfect Storm of sorts:

• My roommate had gone home for the weekend, so I was alone. I don't recall why, exactly, but I was surfing the web in my room rather than hanging out with my friends up on the third floor like I did most nights.
  
• It being both St. Patrick's Day and a Friday, there were plenty of drunken idiots running around outside, and a few more in the dorm hallways. Although in college I normally left my door open if I was in, this time I left it shut and locked, lest I be the victim of random annoyance, or whatever else might strike the fancy of the merry revelers (and we had some real prize jackasses living on our floor that year, so it wasn't a baseless fear).
  
• I wanted some fresh air, so I left the window open, but that meant I could hear not only the drunks outside, but also some odd, creepy ambient music.

Apparently, at one point, my mind decided it had had enough of this mental claustrophobia and gave my stomach the cue to go into spin cycle. I tried my best to keep it down, but had to run to the bathroom. Ta-da, there went dinner. I think afterward, I went up to the third floor to be with my friends and felt better, but I was annoyed that I was now hungry but didn't feel like eating anything.

(Really, I'm going somewhere with this, just hold on...)

The next morning, I ate breakfast just fine. I had a partial lunch at the mall food court, but still seemed okay. I managed to make it through dinner, but later that night... repeat. Now I was slightly more annoyed than the night before.

Sunday, similarly, was okay up until dinner time. I'm pretty sure I kept everything down that day, but didn't feel like eating much. I thought maybe after the weekend I would be fine, but Monday night proved me wrong. I was tired of not being able to eat full meals. I was clearly hungry yet didn't "feel" like eating. I was afraid that anything I ate was just going to come back up again, so why bother?

I called my parents. They weren't home, so I left a meandering stream-of-consciousness verge-of-tears message on the answering machine. I said I didn't know why this was happening, but all of a sudden I can't keep my dinners down, I don't feel like eating even though I'm hungry, and at some point I'm going to need some nutrients so what the hell should I do?? My mom called back and I rattled off a list of times in the past when I'd felt nauseous in stressful situations and tried to find the common thread, but couldn't.

My dad took that Tuesday off work and drove to Bowling Green to visit me and go with me to the campus clinic. You see, I had had what's called an anxiety attack, and my dad had been experiencing the same thing for several months. The doctor I saw gave me samples of Serzone and sent me to the university counselling center.

I managed to calm myself down as the week went on, and by the time I was on full-strength Serzone, I was feeling pretty good. In fact, I found I had much better concentration in class than I had ever had before. (It also seems that in the process of going a week without eating full meals, my stomach shrank, because I now felt like eating less on a regular basis. It would take a full year to get my weight back up to where it was pre-St. Patrick's Day.) I didn't find the counselling to be of much use, because we only had four sessions before the year was over, and most of the therapist's questions centered around the fact that I had never been on a date. That might be a stress for some people, but it wasn't for me; if I had ever had the desire to ask someone out, I would have.

The exact cause of my anxiety still puzzles me to this day. I can only guess that it was, much like that Friday night, an amalgamation of various stresses (see "NOOL," below). I eventually found ways to prevent nausea if I felt the slightest bit queasy or nervous, usually by humming a happy tune or thinking about something funny. I also think the Serzone kept me leveled enough to keep me from snowballing my anxiety.

I took Serzone through the rest of college, then my general practitioner asked if I wanted to wean off of it. I said yes, I'm tired of taking pills every day, and now that I don't have the stress of school, perhaps I won't need it (and I was already only taking a half dose anyway). I left the doctor's office knowing that I had to change something about myself, lest I fall back into the same anxious traps and end up taking meds again. I went home and wrote out my "New Outlook on Life." Two weeks later, I was done with Serzone. That day was August 21, 2002, and I call it "NOOL Remembrance Day," which I have written about before. Edited to add: I should also note that being involved in a local production of Forever Plaid was a big help, as it gave me a social life beyond college and led to most of the friends I have today.

There are times I wish I had done something differently that St. Patrick's night six years ago. If I felt lonely, why didn't I just go upstairs and be with my friends? If the ambient music creeped me out, why didn't I just play my own music in the room? But then I think about how much more relaxed I am now than I was back then, less uptight and less stressed. I can't help but thank that day for finally driving the point home that there was something about my way of thinking that needed to change... even if it meant I had to spend a year back down at my high school weight after I'd worked so hard to get it up. :)

I do think I'm a different--and better--person today because of that night. St. Patrick, I raise my Irish coffee to you.

new cell phone number

I think I e-mailed everyone who might have had my old phone number, but if I missed you, let me know. Amazon.com had a $150 rebate on a $130 silver Motorola RAZR for new Cingular subscribers, so I made the switch. Unfortunately, the only way to keep my previous number is for Cingular to set up a new account, and that invalidates the Amazon rebate, so I opted to keep the new phone and accept the new number. Apparently these RAZR phones are "teh new h0ttness," as I've already had three people recognize it on sight as a RAZR and they ooh'd and ahh'd over it. I just got it because it was a $20 profit. :) It also came with a free Bluetooth wireless headset that hooks around the ear, to use in the car.

And of course, I just had nice business cards printed up a few months ago and have 950 of them left...

it's like nothing happened

I got the results of my second post-treatment CAT Scan on Friday. No signs of recurrence. Honestly, I feel (physically, although somewhat mentally too) as if nothing happened. This is cool.

Stupid cancer.

why, oh why, oh why oh...

...why did I ever leave Ohio? Oh yeah: to visit New York. It's hard to believe that, exactly a week ago, I was already in Franklin Square (Long Island). I've been catching up on various things since I got back, and am just now getting around to typing this up. (Warning: massive linking and lyric-quoting ahead. Click on any pictures to see larger versions. Most of the links are to Wikipedia articles, for those so inclined.) Edit: It's now Saturday and I'm finally done typing this. Hurrah!

My friends and I originally discussed a trip to NYC in November of 2004, hoping to see Wicked before Idina Menzel left the cast, and Avenue Q. I then found out Menzel would be gone by the weekend we had picked, and then the entire weekend of shows was sold out. Instead, we saw Wicked in Toronto last April.

A year later, this past November, we chose a weekend largely based on when Stuart, our illustrious tour guide, could go. For various reasons, the group whittled down to just four of us: Stu, Lisa-Marie, her friend Steve, and me. Once we knew who was going, I ordered the tickets for Avenue Q and Spamalot to ensure we didn't get locked out again.

(In case you don't want to click the links: Wicked is the backstory of the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good before Dorothy came along; Avenue Q is like Sesame Street for adults, puppets and all, only instead of teaching little-kid lessons, they teach adult lessons, e.g. "it sucks to be me," "everyone's a little bit racist," "what do you do with a B.A. in English?"; Spamalot is the stage musical adaptaion of the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I very highly recommend all of them, although Wicked is the closest to a traditional musical.)

Stu grew up on Long Island and still has relatives there; namely, Yetta, the 89-year-old Jewish grandmother. ("You kids want some breakfast? I bought bacon. I don't know how you kids can go without breakfast. I bought bacon if you want it. I thought you might want some. Stuart, the VCR won't work. I thought you knew how to fix these things.") Grandma was nice enough to let us crash at her house for the weekend, thus saving us from the expense of a hotel.

It started snowing and icing Thursday, so we left Cleveland earlier than expected, around 2:00 in the afternoon. We got to Grandma's by about 10:30, even with some accident-related traffic near LaGuardia. I'm glad we left when we did and arrived sooner than expected, since we had to get up fairly early Friday morning to meet Lisa at JFK. We dropped off her things at Grandma's and made our way to the Long Island Railroad station -- but not before Lisa delighted Grandma by actually eating breakfast. The sky was blue, the sun bright, the wind brisk; we were prepped for a day in New York City.

The LIRR ride was about half an hour and took us to Penn Station in Manhattan, where we enjoyed fresh bagels that made Panera look like Lender's. From there, we took the subway to Spring Street. I snapped two pictures before a rent-a-cop told me not to. I'm still not sure why photography was prohibited, but I'll leave these images here until Donald Rumsfeld sends me a cease and desist notice.

We made our way to the tkts booth at South Street Seaport to see what shows we could see for half price that night. We considered The Producers or Sweeney Todd. Although we could get $120 tickets for $60 (and see Patti LuPone), I didn't feel like spending that much when we had already spent so much on the other two shows, so I suggested we do Forbidden Broadway: Special Victims Unit, which was cheaper.

The Staten Island Ferry was our next stop. It's free, and we got a good view of the Statue of Liberty.

The new Staten Island Ferry station next to the older, cooler-looking building. Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan Bridge in the background.

View of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty from the SIF.

The four of us on the SIF.

The Brooklyn Bridge as seen from the SIF.

I wanted to see the World Trade Center site, just to see what was there. The picture to the left is a building that has been covered in scaffolding and black tarp since 9/11. Edited to add: According to a Newsday article, this is the Deutsche Bank building, and it will be demolished soon. On the right is 7 World Trade Center, the first of the collapsed buildings to be replaced.

There isn't a whole lot to see, specifically, at "ground zero." What I found sobering was being in the midst of street after street of tall buildings, then this sudden open area in the middle of it, and thinking about where I was when these massive structures came crashing down. On the left, you can see the footprint of the South Tower has been cleaned out, and the PATH railroad already has tunnels going through it. On the right is a picture of two beams from the wreckage that were erected as a cross. The site is surrounded by fence, and one side has a timeline of the events from 9/11/01 with pictures. There were, of course, a few folks on the street selling pictures of the former towers, which was classy [/sarcasm].

This is a building near the WTC site that I thought looked kinda cool; I don't know what it is specifically. We had lunch at the nearby Stage Door Deli, where we got to experience the "hurry up and shout" method of ordering food ("WHO'S NEXT?" Chicken Caprice, please. "CHICKEN CAPRICE!" "CHICKEN CAPRICE!" "WHO'S NEXT?"). The sandwich was really good, but unfortunately I wasn't able to finish it, as I had a mild case of anxiety. I think it was partly from the excitement of the trip, but also a subconscious fear of a large, unknown city. I worried that it might get worse as the weekend rolled on, but thankfully, this was the only anxiety I experienced and was fine once we started walking again.

"On your right / Washington Square / right in the heart / of Greenwich Village..." The Village is pretty cool to walk around in, especially as it's far less frantic and congested than the more touristy parts of the city. Washington Square is where we saw this dog park (gotta walk the dogs somewhere), and this building. I also liked this one.

We took the Roosevelt Island Tramway to... *drum roll plz*... Roosevelt Island, from which I took a picture of the Queensboro Bridge. The tram uses the same MetroCard passes as the subway system, and since we had bought day passes (unlimited rides for $7.00), this was "free." Coo'.

I think we were all pretty tired by this point, so we headed over to Little Italy to find a place for dinner. As we were looking at menus, one guy tried to get us into his restaurant by cracking wise about the restaurant next door, which was only slightly amusing. The guy next door, instead, sang "That's Amore" to Lisa and charmed us with his accent. Stu recommended the Penne à la Vodka (a cheddary cheesy sauce), so I got that. We had plenty of time to kill before Forbidden Broadway, so it was nice to sit down to a good meal and relax.

Forbidden Broadway is actually what they call "off-Broadway," which just means the theater is smaller than those on-Broadway (which are not all actually on Broadway the street). But it wasn't that far from Times Square, and we still had some time yet before the show, so we walked around for a bit. Coming up out of the subway tunnel and into the bustling glitz of Times Square at night for the first time was quite exhilarating. We stopped at the world's largest Toys "R" Us, which houses a 3-story indoor ferris wheel.

More Times Square photos:



Forbidden Broadway was a hoot. They parody current Broadway shows and release a CD every few years. Their most recent, Special Victims Unit, came out last year, but many of the shows they parodied have since closed, so we saw an updated version, which was a nice surprise. I'd say easily 2/3 of the show was different from the CD. You do need to be at least somewhat familiar with musicals to get some of the jokes, but I think Steve enjoyed it anyway. It was a great end to a very busy day. Oh, and one of the actresses laughed over a few lines when the guy impersonating Harvey Fierstein danced around. And it wouldn't be the last time this weekend that we'd see a professional New York actor break character.

Saturday
On Saturday, Stu and I slept in for a bit, then took Grandma out to lunch for her birthday. We went to a nice seafood place called Schooner's on the Nautical Mile in Freeport. I've never been a fan of fishy-tasting/algae-flavored/smells-like-Lake-Erie-in-September foods (i.e. most seafood aside from shrimp and deep fried perch), but have often been told that I might like fresh fish, so I was bold and had a seafood platter for lunch. They were right: the fish didn't taste fishy at all. The scallops did slightly, but they were so heavily buttered and seasoned that I didn't mind. Grandma's rice pudding dessert came with a candle in it and the wait staff sang "Happy Birthday" (and I immediately had my attorney contact Warner Bros. to disavow any involvement I might have had in this egregious copyright-infringing public performance of a stolen folk song).

Afterward, we stopped at "the bird store": Parrots of the World. Aside from being a rather extensive pet store, they have a large enclosed area where various birds are out in the open. The cockatoos were noisy at times, but an African Grey named Darwin said both "hello" and "see ya later" to us. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to bring my camera that day, so there are no pictures of Bird with the birds. :)

Saturday night, I went to my first hockey game: the New York Islanders. I'm by no means a sportsy person--although I can tolerate baseball--but Stu was going with some of his local friends, and I figured, when else would I be willing to go to a hockey game? There was a ceremony beforehand honoring the 25th anniversary of the 1980 Stanley Cup championship team (a year late, due to last year's lockout). At left is a very fuzzy picture of the Stanley Cup as it graced our presence from 30 feet away.

It took me a while to get into the game, not only because I didn't have an emotional tie to the team, but also because I had to ask about the various rules and penalties as we went along. I was pretty bored (or just frustrated) in the first period, but there was more scoring in the second and third periods, and I found myself enjoying it by the end. One thing that struck me was the lack of noise from the playing field, other than the occasional clacking of sticks. If one could combine the fast-paced action of hockey with the frequent scoring of basketball with the sound effects and open-air arena of baseball, that'd be one cool sport. Still, hockey now ranks above football on my list... but then, so do most things. :) All the fans got a commemorative hockey puck as well, so that's one of my few souvenirs of the trip.

After the game, we met Stu's friends at TGIFriday's. I didn't have much to say, but I didn't feel like a third (or, seventh?) wheel either, so that was cool. There would certainly have been more inside jokes and catchphrases with my college friends. Gah RA! f, dude seriously.

All the while, Lisa and Steve pretty much just took the day off. After all, it's vacation, right? Can't blame them for that. (Though a day off in Lisa's new home of Tampa would probably be better than a day off up here in the cold.)

Sunday
Sunday was set aside as our Broadway day, but Spamalot wasn't until 3:00, so we took in Grand Central Station and Central Park. Entering the lobby of Grand Central evoked a similar reaction as Times Square: I had seen pictures, read about it, seen the movie Madagascar, but being there in the middle of it was awe-inspiring.

The black spot there is what the ceiling used to look like before they cleaned all the soot off.

There's my Zodiac sign getting beat up by Orion.

We had lunch in the lower-level food court. I had two large slices of New York-style pizza, which Stu instructed me to eat by folding in half lengthwise, lest I look like a tourist.

More Grand Central photos:


It's hard to believe something like Central Park exists right in the middle of Manhattan. I didn't quite grasp the extensive size of it until I looked at an aerial photo and realized how little of it we saw. This is definitely at the top of my list for next time I'm in New York, especially if it's in the summer or fall.

The Strawberry Fields Memorial (left) honors the life of John Lennon, who was shot in The Dakota apartment building (right). For some reason, there were metal barricades around the memorial, so this was the best picture I could get.

I thought the tiny Dachsund next to the large Labrador would make for an interesting shot, but wouldn't you know, the dogs wouldn't stand still for me.

Bow Bridge is but one of the nearly 40 bridges in Central Park, each of which is different. See this site for more (note: that link only seems to be viewable with Firefox, for some reason).

Neat building along Central Park West.

I thought the patterns in this brick path looked cool.

I didn't take any pictures of Lincoln Center, because I refused to have its plain, straight-edged 1960s architecture befoul my camera's memory card. I'll concede the place looks cool at night, though. The gift shop had a neat leaded glass lamp with a piano key design, but it was $150 and I wouldn't have a place to put it anyway.

We walked into the lobby of the American Museum of Natural History to see the world's tallest freestanding dinosaur skeleton (a Barosaurus). It was so tall, I had to composite two photos to capture the whole thing, but even that doesn't quite give the impression of its incredible size.

Outside the museum is a statue honoring Teddy Roosevelt, who, incidentally, is one of my favorite U.S. Presidents. Really; he's the man. "Mister, we could use a maaan like Teddy Roos'velt agaaaaaain..."

"We dine well here in Camelot / We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot..." To the chagrin of some Monty Python fans, Spamalot has been mainstreamed a bit in its transition to the stage, with more-obvious jokes and less emphasis on quirky British comedy. But don't worry; there are still fish-slappings, shrubberies, catapaulted cows, killer rabbits, and Knights Who Say 'Ni!' The plot, such that there is, has also been reworked so the Knights of the Round Table have to put on a Broadway show, and in fact much of Spamalot is a parody of musical theatre in general.

We got to see most of the original cast, excepting King Arthur (Simon Russell Beale) and The Lady of the Lake (Lauren Kennedy). In the picture at left are Sir Robin (David Hyde Pierce), King Arthur, and Sir Lancelot (Hank Azaria). In the scene where Lancelot bursts into Prince Herbert's room to save the, uh, "damsel" in distress, Azaria began a contagious laughing fit, and all three actors were unable to continue for at least ten seconds. I imagine we the audience weren't much help, cheering them on with uproarous applause. And it wouldn't be the last time this weekend that we'd see a professional New York actor break character.

The theaters for Spamalot and Avenue Q are right next to each other (with The Producers across the street, seen in the picture at right), but we strayed a bit to grab some dinner. Being so close to Times Square, of course, the restaurant was exhorbitantly priced, so we just got appetizers to tide us over until later [Tom: insert LifeSavers joke here].

Ah, at last: Avenue Q. This is not a show for the easily offended; don't let the Muppet-esque puppets fool you. During a song, two of them screw on stage (as much as they can, given that their bodies end at the waist). But Avenue Q doesn't just get by on shock and gimmick; the show is genuinely funny, has a plot, and (in my opinion) makes a point for folks my age. What impressed me was how much expression the actors could portray with movement of the puppet's arms and body. If you have RealPlayer installed, you can view some video clips on the official website. (And if you promise not to tell anyone, you can view the clip from the 2004 Tony Awards, which has a shortened form of the opening scene, here--the file is 7.8 MB.) *ahem*

Jennifer Barnhart is a member of the original cast and puppeteered the Bad Idea Bears and Mrs. T., aside from serving as the understudy for Kate and Lucy T. Slut. When we saw it, she was Kate and Lucy while Minglie Chen filled in for Jennifer's usual roles. The only other original cast member we saw was Natalie Venetia Belcon as Gary Coleman (yes, that Gary Coleman). I'm glad I was familiar with the music ahead of time (where "was familiar" = "had memorized"), as the audience laughter sometimes covered up the next lyric. At one point, Belcon laughed and missed a line of the song--yes that's right: out of three New York shows we saw, each time we saw an actor break character. It was great. What's that word? Oh yeah: SCHAAAAAADENFREUDE!! (Although as fellow associates in the arts, it was an empathetic sort of Schadenfreude, as I'm sure Stu and Lisa would agree.)

Having not had a complete dinner, we hit up the Planet Hollywood on Times Square. I enjoyed a Flying Gorilla martini (chocolate + banana + vanilla ice cream == mmmm).

At this point, it started to sink in that the weekend we had been planning for four months was now over; Elyria was much more than 500 miles away in my mind. I was just getting used to the fast pace of New York, and now we had to leave. But that's fine; although it was fun to visit, I think living there would drive me nuts. Everyone and everything moves so fast. It took me a few days to mentally slow down once I got home. I don't think I'd have the energy to work and play there on a daily basis. But it's truly amazing how much there is to do, and it might be nice to live closer to New York, if only so I could see more shows on Broadway. Playhouse Square's huge theaters don't compare to the more intimate venues of New York, where you pay the same price as in Cleveland for a much better seat, and with the potential of seeing the original cast.

Lisa's flight left Monday morning, and we were on the road not long after. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to help with the driving since I don't know stick shift (typical American). I'm glad we had Stu with us, since I felt much better about getting around the city with him leading the way. Plus, he has the magical New York driving switch on his head that helps navigate the wildebeest-stampede-esque parkways. We didn't do any driving in Manhattan itself*, but managed to avoid cabs by using the subway to get everywhere. Speaking of subways, not a one of them had a single molecule of spray paint; in fact, they appeared quite clean. One of the few things I remember from my family's 1986 trip to NYC is the graffiti'd subway cars.

*Actually we did drive in the city as we were leaving. We cut across Midtown from the Queens Midtown Tunnel to the Lincoln Tunnel. We listened to the traffic report, and there was no good way out of the city. It took 90 minutes to go 40 miles. Oy.

I guess that (finally) about wraps it up. Other song lyrics and quotes I used during the trip but not in this post:

• "Come and meet / those dancing feet / on the avenue I'm taking you to / 42nd Street"
  
• "We made it, guys! Oh boy, what a great lookin' place! And it's filled with of New Yorkers!" (Kermit, upon arriving in NYC in The Muppets Take Manhattan)
  
• When at the 33rd Street subway station: "Her lover was the eminent architect Stanford White, designer of the Pennsylvania Station on 33rd Street." (from Ragtime)
  
• When taking a subway into the city: "Take me back to Manhattan / Take me back to New York"
  
• "'Cuz everyone's your friend / in New York City / and everything looks beautiful / when you're young and pretty" (They Might Be Giants)
  

Yeah, I'm like that.

Upcoming Spring Concert

Hey all,

No real cancer updates this time, other than to say my October CAT scan and January blood test and X-ray showed no problems. I have another CAT scan next Tuesday. I feel fine and my energy is back to normal, as if nothing happened.

Anyway, my purpose in writing this missive is to let you know about a concert I will be participating in. Amy King, an excellent Oberlin-trained violinist from my church, and I will be putting on a Lenten-themed violin/piano concert Wednesday, April 5 at 7:00 p.m.

Amy and I have put together about 50 minutes' worth of music with a Palm Sunday/Holy Week/Easter theme, in a program we're calling "Hosanna!" Much of it is choral or piano music that we have adapted and arranged for violin and piano, including the title song based on the hymn "Hosanna, Loud Hosanna." We have a great combination of upbeat, majestic, relaxed, and fun music, and I might even play the organ on a few numbers. Admission is free and open to the public. We'll be taking a free-will offering and donating the funds to the church's music fund, plus we'll have snacks afterward, but we're really just doing this for the fun of it.

It will be at St. Paul UCC, 9715 East River Rd, Elyria, Ohio 44035. I realize a lot of you live out of the area, so I don't expect you to come, but I thought I'd just keep you in the loop. I've attached the flyer I designed (which could be a dangerous move, seeing as one of my former graphic design profs is also on this e-mail list).

Hope you can make it.

-Bryan

so i was in new york city this morning...

...in a dream. Per usual for my dreams, although I "knew" this was New York City, it looked nothing like any picture of The Small Orange I'd ever seen. In fact, when I first arrived at the place where I was apparently to meet Stuart and Lisa, it looked more like a private community in Avon Lake -- not really, but that's what my dream mind said. It was a quiet, tree-shaded, coastal, brick-pathed area with old brick buildings. Now that I think about it, it was more like the Chautauqua Institution, only with street musicians. I'd also point out that, to get to this quiet little enclave, I was following directions on a scrap of paper, but unlike most of my dreams, this one did not involve a frustrating half hour of getting lost and cars stalling in the rain and head-on collisions that leave everyone uninjured and cars unscathed.

Anyway, I parked my car on the street at the edge of this community and rode my bike (which apparently conveniently folds up to fit in my Civic). I followed the bike path paralelling the coastline, because I was sure it would lead to the Longaberger Basket Company Headquarters, which I wanted to take a picture of. Mind you, although it's a neat building (shaped like a Longaberger basket), I've already seen it once, oh and also, IT'S IN OHIO.

Somehow, I ended up near where my car was parked on the street, and I met up with Stu and Lisa (sorry, Steve, I guess you didn't come along this time). It was getting dark, so we chatted for a bit, then I walked down the street to my car to get my suitcase and laptop bag. This was a residential neighborhood, similar to Elyria or Bowling Green, and as I came down the street, I noticed a group of partyers out on the porch of the house in front of which my car was parked. From a bit of distance, I clicked the remote to unlock the doors, which also turned on the dome lights, and that caught the attention of the revelers like a dog that's just seen a squirrel run by a window.

I heard some music start up in the background, like in a movie; something a little syncopated, slightly rock-calypso perhaps? In any case, I started getting my suitcase from the back seat -- oh, and apparently my Civic has only 2 doors now -- and wouldn't you know, those sneaky devils opened the passenger side door and snatched the laptop bag.

Then -- I sh!t you not -- we broke into song. Really. I'm pretty sure this was my subconscious attempting to mix all the songs from Rent (it was New York City, after all) into one strange amalgamation of "Tune Up," "Take Me or Leave Me," and "What You Own." (Shame it didn't include "Seasons of Love," which is actually the only song from Rent that I like.) My portion of the song was a la Mark Cohen's "what am I doing here" rants, as the partyers passed around my shoulder bag -- in tempo -- each looking inside, puzzled at this marvelous invention known as a laptop. While the partyers sang thier piece, I called Stu on my cell phone (who was still down the street at his car), but Lisa answered and didn't really have any advice. I said the laptop has way too much stuff on it that I need, and I hadn't done a backup of the hard drive in months.

At the bridge of the song, one woman came up to me and said she'd give me the bag for $50. I agreed, because I really wanted it back, and I figured that was a small price to pay, aside from the various other lessons learned. But since I could see someone up at the house still had the bag, I didn't trust her. And I certainly didn't want her standing near me when I whipped out my wallet to see if I even had $50 cash, so I told her to go get the bag and I'd meet her halfway in the middle of the yard. She said "OK, but I expect to see results."

Then I woke up. A minute later, my alarm rang. I considered letting myself doze back to sleep so I could finish the dream, because I really wanted to know what would happen, but what I had already dreamt was frustrating enough, and I doubt my subconscious would let me off that easy by just paying $50 and getting my laptop back.

Now then: interpretation time. I believe dreams are the brain's dustpan; they're little bits of information that the brain organizes during REM sleep, much like defragmenting a hard drive. The brain has these pieces and attempts to link them together. So if I ate a pizza yesterday and saw grandma last week and was thinking about my brother's trip to Cancun, today I might have a dream about grandma eating a pizza in Cancun. At least, this is how my dreams work.

I will indeed be visiting New York City this weekend with Stu and Lisa-Marie (and Steve), and I will probably bring my laptop since it's an 8-hour car ride there, but that's about where the similarities end. I will not be driving my own car, nor will I be parking it on the street in a seemingly-safe residential neighborhood. I will not be riding my bike through a Chautauqua-esque community to see the Longaberger headquarters in Newark (hey! maybe that was the connection: Newark/New York?). I would not, despite what my subconscious thinks, be stupid enough to unlock all my car doors from a distance when I can clearly see a group of inebriated 20-somethings nearby, giving them a chance to help themselves to my luggage. And although three of the four of us might at some point burst into song, that will (hopefully) be in the privacy of our own group, not with a bunch of random strangers. We don't want to look like tourists, after all. "It's easy to spot the tourists in New York City: they're the only ones walking around who aren't scowling." --Justin

I'll back up my hard drive before I leave, though.