The Empty Soda Can

Yesterday I spoke about those embarrassing moments from teenage life. Here’s another, even stranger incident from my oft–ill-fated senior year: Growing up in the metaphorical shadow of the Twin Towers had its advantages. Case in point: each year, two nights before graduation, our high school would rent out an entire ferry from the Circle Line, a sightseeing company that cruises around Manhattan Island, several times a day. The Senior Cruise was—perhaps is—a dinner/dance, once last treat for the graduates before they don their caps and gowns on Friday. Another nice thing about our school was exam week: exams began the Wednesday before graduation week and continued through the following Wednesday (the same day as the cruise), with Thursday (the day before graduation) reserved for make-up exams. The tests ran from 8:00–10:00 and 10:30–12:30 each day, but were scheduled such that very, very few people ever had more than one per day. Students from all four grades came in for any slots...

I just turned 37, this week, which may or may not have evoked some of the reflections I’ve been having. It’s more likely that it involves my upcoming 20th high school reunion, which I won’t be attending due to scheduling conflicts, just like my 10th. (I actually am interested in going, but ironically enough, we’ll be in my home town for my wife’s high school reunion, then in her home town for my 20th. Nice, huh?) Anyway, the title of this post should serve to set the stage for what I’m about to write. I was very much a nerd, throughout my school years—still am, to some extent, though that matters much less to a 37-year-old. By high school, I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care what other people thought of me, and occasionally went to great lengths to prove it. But somewhere in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, unbeknownst even to me (but probably quite obvious to everyone else), I did care. Even as a senior, when I had finally gained a little cred, I still longed to be i...

Before I begin, I’ll be the first to admit that I was expecting a lot, going into this. With all the hype surrounding the then-upcoming The Hunger Games movie and several members of my extended family gushing about how great the books are, I figured it would be amazing. Unfortunately, it just… wasn’t. The Hunger Games is split into three parts: The Tributes , The Games , and The Victor . (Note: while there are also three novels in the series, I am speaking only of the first novel, which is itself divided into the aforementioned parts.) What’s interesting is that while many books increase in intensity from start to finish, this one is more like a bell curve. Part I (comprising chapters 1-9) begins a bit slowly, as it necessarily lays the groundwork for the story ahead. This, of course, is to be expected, and by the end of Part I, I had come to know and love the main protagonist. As Part II (chapters 10-18) begins, I was finally fully engaged in the story, and I loved every minute o...

First of all, let me be perfectly clear. Rush Limbaugh is an idiot. I don’t like the guy, I never have, and the fact that he recently made some sexist statements doesn’t enamor me any more to his cause. I’m also not a fan of Sarah Palin, whose name will also appear in this post. Now, that being said, I just received an email that makes a very good point: what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I honestly don’t have time to run down every one of these statements, but every one I checked is indeed legit. If you happen to find any that aren’t, please let me know. So without any further ado… Rush Limbaugh's words have given the… left the opening [it] needed, and they have pounced. Rush has apologized. But the radical left will never accept it because they despise him and want him off the air. To the left, this is simply an opportunity to put their attacks on religious liberty in a feminist frame, and an opportunity to try and shut down Limbaugh and end his career. It is...

I remember when I was a kid, a new pizza place opened up in our area. It was about half an hour away, but we’d heard it was really good, so we made the trek to try it. It lived up to the hype: their delectable pan pizza was completely different than the same old genuine New York–style pies at all nine Italian- or Italian-American–owned pizza/sub shops in our tiny New Jersey hamlet of 15,000 people. It was also expensive, but it was so delicious that we’d drive up Route 46, every few months, to take advantage of that wonderful place called “Pizza Hut.” A few years later, they opened another store—their second, in my young mind—about 10 minutes from our house. Now it was easier to get there, though our weekly pizza night continued to come from locals like Cosmo Bella or Bachagaloop’s. Still, when the craving came, we’d still head out to Totowa to get a Pizza Hut pizza and a side of cheesy garlic bread. Definitely great stuff. On the other side of the coin were burgers. Sure, we could...

Well, long-time readers, it’s finally happened: I got a new computer! After years of agonizing over which would be best while waiting for it to finally become necessary, I settled on a solution: get a cheap Mac mini to use as a server, plus a MacBook Pro to use as my main machine. Along with the MacBook Pro, I plan to get two 27″  Thunderbolt Displays . Those grandiose plans aside, though, we’ve only received a small portion of our tax refund due to some government red tape. My new client, however, has specific needs that require me to have something newer than my 8½-year-old Power Macintosh G5. As such, I took the plunge: I picked up a cheap Mac mini—as planned—and a single Thunderbolt Display. (It’s actually pretty neat, going from a 20″ and 17″ to a single 27″ display, but to be honest, the biggest difference is Mac OS X v.10.7 Lion and the things it does differently. Not badly, just differently. I’ll adjust.) :-) Of course, amidst all this, I had to retire my old d...

I’m in a world of hurt right now. There’s a person in my life who I work with on a regular basis who obviously doesn’t even begin to appreciate what I do. It doesn’t matter how hard I try; it seems that nothing I do can ever live up to this person’s expectations. This person is constantly deriding me, telling me that I’m slow, that I’m lazy, etc.; my accuser, on the other hand, is hard-working and consequently spends most of the time cleaning up messes caused by other, ostensibly lesser people (myself apparently foremost among them). I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to cut this person off because I really do benefit from our relationship, and I even enjoy it, when I’m not being lambasted. Furthermore, doing so would be extremely detrimental to both my personal and professional life. And yet, whenever I confront this person with my feelings, I’m made to feel even worse. There’s never any acknowledgment of the very deep hurt I’m feeling, just reassurance—generally in the form o...