Happy Birthday

At my age, birthdays are at the height of their awkwardness. No one really knows what to do for my birthday, and I never feel right telling people its my birthday or throwing my own parties.  As a kid, birthdays were treated as a day where I got one gift and got sent on my merry way.  Once we even had a party for my birthday.  We linked it with my father’s birthday which effectively means we had a party for my father’s birthday.  The cake said Happy Birthday JJRC – which is both my and my father’s name (how clever).  My parents invited all their friends – and some of htem had kids our age.  We would play in the other room while the living was packed with adults and cake.  They called me in at 11pm to get sung to and blow the candles out with my dad.  Then I was ushered out of the room – cakeless.  The cake came about 30 mins later.  The adults had to get cake before the kids… Doesn’t that sound magical?

Flash forward 19 years – Let’s check out what happened to JJRC on June 19, 2007. I went to work, and only 1 co-worker was aware of my birthday (gee thanks facebook), and she says happy birthday loudly – as my supervisor walked into the room. I saw him look over with interest. Thirty minutes later – he leans over the cubicle to ask me where I want to go for lunch – I tell him I don’t really have a preference – he chooses Poco Loco (later I learned that he took me to this Mexican restaurant because he thought I felt most comfortable there… because I was Hispanic).

The news start to spread, and I get the awkward passerbys – oh hey man, I didn’t know it was your birthday… happy birthday. I would prefer nothing get said.I go home. I think my parents gave me a present. I don’t remember, but my sister begins to ask where we’re going to dinner. I feel dejected and annoyed. I say I don’t care, and a massive fight erupts… on my birthday. My father in his classic patriarch style says – “Let’s to go Tom’s Restaurant (the one from Seinfeld). I want burgers.” Fine! We get street ready and go to Tom’s things are awkward for a bit, and then we start talking and telling stories… until the table behind us erupts into this huge fight and someone storms out of the restaurant. They only leave the restaurant 5 minutes before we do. They effectively ruined dinner. We walk home building up the mood, and start home.

As we approach the stoop, we notice an older man sitting on the steps. It was my Uncle George. He wasn’t aware it was my birthday, but he decided to swing by randomly in a mild stupor. Attention quickly shifted to him for the rest of the night. My birthday was no longer important, but by that point all the damage had been done – if only we had found Uncle George on the way home from work.

This is the reason I hate birthdays. This was not the only upsetting birthday, but one of many. It’s never smooth events, people don’t remember, and things will go as unsmoothly as possible. Perhaps I should petition to change my name and date of birth, but I might need to visit a mob crime for that… and be relocated.

JJRC

Why I liked Cloverfield

I’ve been hearing everywhere that this movie sucked and was hard to watch.  I’ll concede the latter point.  Yes, the angles and movement were a little too much, and I half expected someone to blow their bits in the movie theater.  Luckily it didn’t happen – though my sister had to lie down somewhere in the middle.  She took a break from the action.  Here are the reasons I enjoyed the movie and would recommend it to a friend with a strong stomach.

1 – No major movie stars – Man, what’s with overpaid actors?  Could Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes done that better? No – they would have fucked it up.  Give up to the no-name new talent that we’ll probably start seeing everywhere.

2 – It freaked me out- This movie was pretty ridiculous on the freak-out range.  It was reminiscent of 9/11 with it’s destruction – only on a larger scale.  Similarly it was a war we can’t win.  Fucking monster is ridiculous – maybe it had too much RAWBERRY!!!! Watching some fucked up looking monster tear NYC a new one on a large scheme is pretty freaky – if you lived here long enough – you get what I’m saying.  Not to mention the destruction of the Columbus Circle site.  I walk past that almost everyday.

3 – They don’t really tell you anything - You see this  thing periodically, but of course its huge so you never really get a full shot of it within Manhattan – as it should be.  The buildings obstruct the view, and little information becomes available.  Take it from me – when something terrible happens – people start to freak out and in the process – don’t bother to internalize any messages or repeat any information.  They just want to jet.

4 – The beginning and the end (please stop reading if you’re going to watch this thing) – I did like that the movie was punctuated by this day in heaven – to contrast with the day in hell.  The shots of the two final characters canoodling in Coney Island is pretty sweet.  Then you get the shots of everyone dying and getting beat up by some unknown creature – another type of sweet. 

The opening scene says it’s some government area previously known as Central Park – this immediately tells you that things did not end well.  By the end, you understand the NYC is a vague memory and that casualties are high.  You find out there is only one survivor, but you find that out about 15-20 minutes before the movie ends – which is awesome.  When does that ever happen?  Maybe Titanic, but we knew that was gonna end all sappy to begin with.  (You can start reading again)

Things I did not enjoy about the movie:

1-  As previously stated – the camera did move a shitload.  Don’t go to this if you have a weak stomach… or get gas when dizzy – because you will get gassy.

2 – (Stop if you’re gonna watch the movie) The complete suspension of reality

a – That fucking girl Beth must be Wonder Woman or She-Ra or something.  What kind of superhuman gets impaled with a metal rod and then runs around for a good couple of hours?  She  appears to have full use of her arms and no problems relating to blood lose.  Luckily she had her phone are arm’s length when that monster fucked up her amazing  apartment.

b – They walked from Spring Street on the 6 to Columbus Cirtle - and they weren’t aware where they were?  Also, what happened to all the trains?  I bet those evaporate when the monster started attacking.  It’s a good thing those trains have that feature.  Coincidentally they can escape to some well furnished break room area that conveniently leads into a clothing store… that’s on 50th Street.

c – The military got owned by some random guy who is crazy talking about some girl trapped in a building.  The best the military can say is – I’m not going to stop you (really? because you seemed all about that about 2 minutes prior).  You can try and find your friend and make it back to Park and 40th by 6am – and we’ll get you out of the city.  I don’t think military officials are easily persuaded by people crying about lost causes.  To serve and protect, man!

d – You can’t tell me not a single car was available.  Someone had to have abandoned their automobile.  They saw a horse-drawn carriage just sauntering by without a driver… why didn’t they stop it and climb in?  Sure beats walking.  And it’s not like riding the horse – you kind of just tell it where to go. (It’s safe to finish this)

Besides those 2 points with 4 subpoints – I thought the movie was pretty good and nauseating due to the camera.  Don’t get popcorn for this one – you might just want a large coke to hold you over.

JJRC

Potties

There many types of bathrooms.  I went to the bathroom today, and it made me think.  Each has its own quirks.   They are probably the most private of places. For example, there’s the home bathroom.  It is the place where you can find the most peace. You are usually the most alone in your bathroom.  No one will probably knock. You can get naked.  You can sing. You can even dance a little. You shave parts of your body and scrub others. Your bathroom is your kingdom. There’s even a throne where you sit and banish unwanted inhabitants of your bowels into a watery grave.  A fitting ending to a foul situation.

Then there are public bathrooms. This is your home bathroom’s hideous twin sister.  The public bathrooms are a little too big and impersonal.  There’s always some odor.  It doesn’t wash regularly.  The constant flow of men leave the public bathroom looking like a terribly aged and worn out hooker.  You go up to it only for the need to release – and you’re too far from home to go to your old lady at home.

The office bathroom is probably the most awkward.  If you work in a smaller office, you have a high possibility of running into a co-worker in there.  The other day I went into our tiny tiny bathroom and smelled a foul odor.  I notices someone was in the stall.  I had been there too long for me to just walk out.  I had to go to the urinal.  I wouldn’t have mentioned anything if the person in the stall hadn’t started talking to me.  He said something along the lines of it getting colder in the near future.  I was at the urinal answering my short answers until he started asking involved questions – what are your plans for the weekend?  When was the last time you talked to what’s her face?  What’s the ED’s schedule looking like?   All awful questions that can’t be answered by yes/no’s.  This is a pretty bad situation.

Maybe one day I’ll become comfortable enough with my BMs to talk to someone while I’m taking a smelly dump.  Hopefully that day never comes.

 JJRC

First Blog Post from Work – man – I’m bad

Honestly, I didn’t really think terrible things like this happened to people.  I was returning from Peru in the spring of 2007 when I reached customs.  It was easily 2 am and I had to be at work at 9:00 am (the train for work left Penn Station at 7:55pm).  It was going to be a hellish day to begin with.  I arrive to the counter, and I muster a smile.
 
Customs Guy: Heya, how’s everything going?
JJRC: Not bad.  Slow night – huh?
CG – Yea – we get a couple of planes landing now and then – it’s good to work this shift.
JJRC – Probably – I’m sure it is nuts during the day.
CG – Sure is… hey – have you ever done any shoplifting?
JJRC- What?
CG – Shoplifting – ever been convicted for that?
JJRC – no…Why? Does it say I was?
CG – This happens from time to time.  We’ll go in the back for a bit and we’ll get this all straightened out.
 
With that, he grabbed an orange folder from his desk and asked me to follow him.  I did so obediently.  My sister watched me walk off and I mouthed to “I’ll be right back.”   I sat down in a small room far left of all the Custom’s Clerks.  “This should only take 15 minutes since you’re an American citizen.”  Gee… I thought.  I sat down without any real luxuries.  The chairs were a hard plastic and the room was dull.  The police officers at the table up front were angry looking people.  They barked names left and right.
 
Very few Hispanics surrounded me.  Majority of the room was filled with Middle Eastern or Muslim people.  One woman approached me and started to ask me questions in a language I didn’t understand.  She apologized in broken English after a few seconds.  I saw people walk up to retrieve their passports from India and Saudi Arabia.   The police officers yelled at people about their visas and their paperwork.  “What did you do in Pakistan?” “Do you have family here in the US?” “What is your purpose of coming here from Egypt?”  It was hard to listen to.  I sat for almost 1.5 hours before I decided this was enough of this.  After a while I lost sight of my orange folder. They would only pick up blue folders – while mine collected dust. 
 
Periodically an airline employee would walk in and ask for someone by name.  No one called on me, but other people eagerly clamored to speak to the representative.   I asked a police officer if there was a way to relay a message to the outside world.  He said he wasn’t a courier and I can wait for an airline employee to come get my message.  I wasn’t allowed to use the phone, and I didn’t have the freedom to leave the room.  Oddly enough – it was basically a large prison where my freedoms were suspended, but it was large enough where I didn’t feel like a caged animal – more like one of those free-reign animals at larger better zoos.
 
Finally, I had enough, and I walked up to an officer.
JJRC – I’ve been waiting for about an hour and a half for them to call my name.
Police Officer – Maybe you should be quiet and listen for your name.  They probably called it and you weren’t paying attention.  Ever thought of that?
JJRC – Umm right.  I think I would have heard and understood my name.  The names you guys call here aren’t exactly much like JJRC.  I’m an American citizen and my passport is up there in an orange folder.”
PO – Orange?
JJRC – Yea.
PO – Have a seat.  I’ll be right back.
 
The officer ran up to the counter looking at all the orange folders.  He finds the only one with an American passport and he wanders off quietly.  I’m sitting there thinking how amazing it would be if they said something ridiculous… along the lines of – your passport was fake so it was destroyed.  If I ever wanted to cry – that may have been the time.  After 2 minutes (some of the longest in my life), a huge police officer comes over and asks me if I’ve ever been arrested.  I say no – and he said well then it is your lucky day.  Just leave.  I ask – but what happened? He says – Do you want to leave or not?  I just decided to say bye and leave.
 
My sister was waiting for me and we go home after I tell her my story.  I get to work on time, but really I shouldn’t have gone.  We made it home at 4:30am.  I had to get up at 6:45 to get myself together for work… Monday always suck – but this one was a little worse.

JJRC

Dr. Phil is a Media Whore

What the hell is wrong with Dr. Phil?  If I ever need a psychiatrist to come and help me -remind me to run away from this clown. 

At 7 o’clock every weekday – all the stations drag up their celebrity news shows.  As I flipped through the channels, Dr. Phil kept coming up again and again.  My thoughts immediately shifted to the only possible reason he could be on the news so much (He’s pregnant).  No… he’s without child sadly, but what he has done is he’s visited Britney Spears in the hospital and is now talking about it… non-stop to anyone with ears (and eyes for those reading his crap on the Internet/periodicals).

What kind of doctor seriously visits a patient and then turns around to tell the world that the person he was speaking to has serious psychological issues and should seek further medical assistance?   The lack of tact and integrity is mind-boggling.  He’s everywhere.  It’s like he’s promoting a book, but he’s not promoting a book – he’s promoting himself as the caring doctor… Dr. Phil – celebrity psychologist 

Let’s see what the good Doctor has to say about his practices:

“My goal was, and is, to hopefully guide her toward a private intervention, hopefully a long way from Los Angeles, and it won’t be done by me because I don’t see people privately and individually.”

Nope – Dr. Phil just sees people publicly with lots of peoplearound to watch and judge.  At least he doesn’t lie about it.  When it comes to real healing – it’s someone else’s problem – he just exploits the situation. 

Man, this is sad and disturbing…

JJRC

The Fountainhead

When I was a senior in high school, I read The Fountainhead. It didn’t change my life. I did it to write an essay for college money. I didn’t win – but I did get a delightful package from the Rand Institute that offered me the gift of objectivism. I thought – if that had anything to do with being like Howard Roark – you can count me out.

I was placed on jury duty when I was 21. I figured this won’t take long and I’ll have lots of time to finish reading Atlas Shrugged before classes start again. I would have finished the book in about 2 weeks if 1- I hadn’t been selected to be on a jury and 2 – classes/work didn’t start as soon as I arrived to Ithaca. It dragged on for 6 months. I finished the book mid July while I sat on the fraternity house’s back lawn drinking a 6 pack of molson’s after an incredibly long week of work.

I was left unimpressed by John Galt and his lover/female counter part Dagny Taggert. Their relationship left me feeling dirty. I decided I needed to read more before I solidify my opinion on objectivism. I read Anthem… blah. Now I’m currently on page 487 of The Fountainhead.

Here are a few points I  have pulled out of The Fountainhead.

1 – Peter Keating is a pathetic loser. My understanding is that Keating and Roark are equally as talented and would be the same person (but individuals of course) had Keating told his mother to shut up when he told her he wanted to be a painter and she said no – that’s stupid be an architect. So he is banished to a life of unhappy toiling until he dies – relying on what people say and having nothing of his own… wow.

2 – Toohey is a ridiculous character. He is the ultimate snake in the garden. He is a herder of men – perhaps even a Jesus figure who guides men in their most troubled moments and makes them his bitches.

3 – Dominique Francon… beautiful deceitful whore. Marries anyone but the man she wants because marrying him would ruin her. He doesn’t want her if he can have her – that’s why he had to rape her.

4 – Roark – he was lucky because his family was dead. It makes him different than Keating who’s mother is a rock he drags around (crummy bitch). He does as he pleases, and he doesn’t hate anyone, but loves only those worthy to be called man. Personally, if the people with the brains disappeared in this book, the world would not collapse Atlas Shrugged style. It would probably remain and a second Renaissance would occur. Why Roark insists his way of building is correct is beyond me. Somehow people like him exist and live successfully – dealing with normal people – Roark on the other hand only deals with people who are as enlightened as him. God forbid he comes off his high horse and step into reality.  The way to change the world isn’t by staying away from it, but getting involved and enacting change.  No – Roark is to good for that.  He’ll have other people change the world for him.

Ultimately – I’ll finish the book because I’m more than 2/3 done. I will not enjoy it – because the characters are ridiculous and the philosophy is ass backwards. If I was in this book I would most associate with Roark’s friend – Austen Heller – but would probably try and shy away from Howard Roark.

JJRC