Sure, there are some people I've kept around me that have married, moved, or just have a career set. But I worry about the ones that bite off responsibility and leave behind maturity (thinking it's the same thing). In the past few weeks, I've been wondering whether I'm becoming more mature or just more of an asshole. I've asked people older than me, and younger than me, and they all seems to say the same thing: "Both." The rational is that, in maturity, you tend to lose patients quicker for those who you feel aren't on "your level" (their words, not mine). I.e.: One can't stand a person and treats them horrible because all they do is gossip and act immature / less mature then one feels.
A more in dept look makes me wonder about what it means to mature. It just seems like I hear you can't be mature without feeling, in some way, better than everyone else. It would seem to me that, with maturity, comes MORE patience and the sense of equality. You may start to avoid those you feel aren't on "your level", but it's no reason to treat them different.
And so I did a little attitude adjustment. I make sure that I continue to smile and nod to those, who I feel, make life harder for those around them while, at the same time, making themselves feel like the center of attention.
But I'm not sure how long it can last.
I spoke with a friend of mind who's got some years on me. He's a good friend of mine and I can talk openly and honestly about all matters with him as he does with me. I tell him my 26 year old problems and he gives me an adult perspective on it. He tells me his adult problems and I give him a 26 year old's perspective on it. The mutual thing between us is the level of maturity. (and by level of maturity I mean that we both agree on what's important and what isn't, what to worry about and what not to worry about, how to handle certain situations, etc.)
So I throw the "question" at him, "I'm not sure if I'm becoming more mature or just a prick" which he understands. Later in the discussion, the subject of Connecticut came up. What seems to be the running theme of the people I don't seem to mesh with so well anymore is the "home town" mentality. These are the same people I feel are looking at more responsibility as a sign of maturity. My friend lived in a variety of other places. What he was alluding to was that people who tend to stay where they are, and don't experience the world, seem to lack the ability to let things roll off their back, move on, hit a certain "level" of maturity.
So I did some field tests of my own. I'm starting to feel that those who grow up in a town, and stay in the town, or never stray from that town, tend to worry BIG over the littlest things. I think it's because their world is so small, and if they were to truly have an open mind, broader horizons, they would realize there's a lot more to worry about and a LOT more to truly value (esp. in friendships and relationships).
I see them take for granted their friends and family because they've been around them so long. It seems that the over exposure desensitizes them from what it means to care or to be there for some one when they need them because, hey, they'll be there tomorrow.
In an effort to feel a little more like I belong in West Haven, I called on some friends for some quality time. "I'm in a rut, I feel terrible, I can really use your friendship." The response really made me realize who my friends were and the quality of people I want around me. I take great pride in being some one who is reliable, trustworthy, and (if you need help) to take time out, stop what I'm doing and help you (although it's what I've been doing as a job for a good 7 years now). That's certainly the quality of people I would like to surround myself with.
Another friend I talk to fairly frequently about these kinds of things disagreed with travel and focused on education. It's true that traveling is expensive and not every one has the chance. I definitely can't afford it. But certainly without an education, one's view of the world is limited and is made up of only what they surround themselves by.
But I look forward. I don't credit myself in having it right. That is to say, I don't think the virtues I hold to be valuable and the things I surround myself with are the way every one should live their life. I truly was brought up in a completely different situation than what I hear is the norm. As an only child, the loss I've dealt with, the changes that happen (what seems to be every few months), it just seems like an amalgamation or perfect storm for feeling the way I do. Which can be said about any one really. In this particular instance, I mean that the life before me has surely led me to be some one who needs to let things roll of their back, move on an adjust quickly, keep quality friends, etc.
In the end, although I said I don't think my way is THE right way, I can tell you that from the outside role I've been playing recently, and the conversations I had with people, it seems like there are some people who's biggest obstacle to overcome is themselves. In order for these people to overcome this obstacle, it seems maybe they need to readjust their priorities, maybe stop putting themselves first, maybe learn what it's like to get out of their bubble?
I've been thinking a lot about posting a new blog, what the subject would be, how to follow up such different one. Now that I have time, 9 hours to be exact, I'll start by mentioning how difficult a transition is to school after being out for 3 years.
First, it's amazing how it's already been 3 years this May. I've been graduated from college for 3 years. I honestly remember something I considered in 4th grade. I was sitting at my desk learning how to multiply numbers and so I did out how much longer I would have to be in school. I factored in a 4 year college of course. As it turns out, I had 12 years left (in the end, i had 13 seeing as Northeastern is a 5 year school). Every school year that started I would go through the same thing. I would whine, kick, scream, moan and (depending on how old I was) cry. The older I was, the more likely the tears mind you. My grandmother would tell me the same thing every year. "You have Halloween coming up, then thanksgiving break, then Christmas, all in 3 months. Then, it's the new year. You have February break then April vacation, then you're done!" It actually helped a lot. The holidays tend to fly by. Then day 1 would come and I would take another year off that HUGE number of years i had left. I was looking forward to graduating college and never looking back. No more homework, no more classes, no more waking up early, etc.
Then I was in Australia and I finished out my last semester. I remember thinking, "wow, that's it. I'm done... I've been counting down for 12 years. I'm ... amazed."
What I never factored in is the amount of help I got from advisers, the benefit of going to private schools, and the fact that I always had a next step. My focus was always on never having to go to school again. In 6th grade they say, "ok, we're going to make sure you're ready for 7th and 8th grade... You'll be at a new school, your classes are all going to be in different rooms, you'll have a locker, etc." 7th and 8th grade came and they say, "we're going to make sure you're ready for high school. A lot of responsibility, getting involved with clubs, etc." Notre Dame was a college prep school. They walked me through the whole process. "Ok, here are the schools you can apply to, here are the applications, they're due November 1. I'll look at them, tell you what else you need, and we'll send them out."
"ok, you're done. Get out."
So, consequently, It was the first time I realized I didn't have a plan. I had no job, no place to live, and absolutely no money. Over the past few years, one thing became more and more apparent: I need to go back to school. I can hear the 4th grader in me saying "ARE YOU CRAZY!? THAT IS NOT RAD!!" But it's come to that point.
So, with limited money, limited time, a failing economy, and a lot more factors, I quit EF Education, I took on a health care job and I started taking classes... at a community college.
Since starting school, I've got lost, found myself on the wrong side of a metal detector, tried to get my ID twice, and have been yelled at by the teacher who used my entire name to do so.
It all started when I went in early one day to get the lay out of the school. If I have a place to be at a certain time and I've never been there before, I typically go really early. It's a combination of knowing the luck I have and assuming I won't be able to find what I'm looking for in an appropriate amount of time. So off to Bunker Hill I went.
You know what shouldn't be hard to do in a college? Find your class. I'm assuming at most schools they tell you what building you have to go in and what floor it's on, everything else works itself out. Not at Bunker Hill. It's 1 long building and just because your class in on the 3rd floor, doesn't mean you can use the stairs, the elevator, or even walk to it. (Side notes, just because you're at ground level, don't think for a second you're on the 1st floor. It's a little more complicated than that.) At one point, I got in an elevator that doesn't stop on the 3rd floor (where I needed to be). A janitor happen to be in there with me and used his key to stop it for me; however, when I got out, I was at the back of the library. To get in, you had to walk through a metal detector. Problem was, I wasn't supposed to be on that side in the first place. Now I turn around and hit the elevator button but, of course, it doesn't work (not for student use) because you need a key. I walk around to each side of the elevator... only bathrooms. My thought was that people can't leave the library with books, hence why the bathrooms were protected by the metal / book detector. You shouldn't be taking anything with you to the bathroom, so why should this be a problem for any one but some one who somehow got into this elevator AND made it stop on this floor... such as myself.
But I think the biggest hurdle I ran into, which happens in any building I go in, is that I didn't know which doors I could open to use the stairs and which ones I could not. The problem is they all say "FIRE EXIT" which, in my mind, reads: "THIS DOOR IS ALARMED!!! DO NOT OPEN IT RYAN! YOU WILL LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT AND CAUSE A PANIC!!!!! DOOOOOOOON'T!" So I looked for as many open doors as I could find and let every one else use doors before me. Then I came across a door that said "THIS DOOR IS ALARMED." None of the other doors said that so that's when I started getting brave and opening them all. After walking into dead ends where I would do the awkward check-the-watch-pretend-you're-late-or-early-and-U-turn move, finding the student lounge with arcade games built in 1992 while blasting Fresh Prince on the TV, and going up a staircase that led to a wall (no joke, the stairs to no where), I decided to give up and go home.
I even had to leave the line for my ID because of the guys behind me. I want to add that i HIGHLY respect every one that goes to community college (and not the people like me who are taking 1 or 2 classes to go for nursing or get into grad school - i mean i respect them too but not the same way). These guys behind me were saying any swear they could think of and at one point in the conversation, one said to the other (edited of course):
"Hey man, I can't stay long, I got class"
"yea man? what time?"
"what class man?"
"man I got reading class"
"shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, you got reading? You straight man... that's the hardest class to get man, damn. I tried to do reading in da other school but i messed it up."
Again, that's HIGHLY cleaned up.
A couple months ago I had decided I would take Chemistry and Biology. Two courses I needed and both I had already studied. Three years out of college and I'm ready to dive right back in. The days leading up to applying for school was me testing my study habits, ability to retain information, and passion for knowledge. I would read The Globe every morning on the T to work. When I left work, I would try to recall all the information I had learned in the morning. Any story, where it happened, names involved, etc. I realized I'm not 18 any more and my brain isn't wired for school as it once was. At this point, it's wired to zone out in meetings, look busy during the day, and come up with witty e-mails to send around the office. By the end of the day, the only thing I could recall was my horoscope. So i backtracked. Instead of taking 2 classes, I took 1.
Bunker Hill is about 15 minutes away from my apartment by car. My class is at 6 but I left at 5 (i never found my class the day I went early to explore...). So, for the record, it wasn't my fault that I arrived at 6:30. Class at 6:00 on a Friday night in Boston doesn't register as a problem with traffic. Add in the 10 more minutes it took me to find the class (I walked by it 3 times and had NO idea there was even a door there) and here comes Ryan Keenan at 6:30. What do I care? It's Biology 101 at a community college. What could possibly go wrong?
Our teacher proceeded to tell us there there will never be a class where we get out early, there is NO eating or drinking in the class room, there is NO talking NOR is there laughing during the labs. Red Flag. So now she's passing out hand outs to each person individually. There's about 11 or 12 hand outs, she's doing them 1 by 1 and handing them out to each person, 1 by 1. This is a good time to text to my roommate and let her know I found my class. "OH AND PLEASE... NO CELL PHONE USAGE. YOU ARE ALL ADULTS." Every one turns and looks at me. "hey."
Our teacher is a brilliant minded Biology professor. She works for a highly credited company doing research in Genetics. She clearly has no husband or social life (wants to keep us till 10 on a friday night) but none of these are the best way to describe her. She's cross eyed. I don't mean she has a lazy eye ... both her eyes are crossed. No, she doesn't look at you with either eye when she's talking to you. Both of her eyes, are crossed. I feel like an ass writing this but, like I said, this is the only way to get a picture in your mind. A foreign lady with a terrible way to describe everything, doesn't know how to spell, and cross eyed. The ONLY time you know she isn't looking at you is when she's looking at you. I know how that sounds, and I know you think i'm wrong and it doesn't make sense... It's the truth.
Half way through the class we have a break. I introduce myself and apologize for being late. Big mistake. She knows my name now. During lab last week we were mixing oil and water (turns out, it can't be done) and I took the test tube and flipped it sideways to get all the oil off the side. "RYAN KEENAN, DO NOT HOLD THE TEST TUBE LIKE THAT" The girl in the front row looked at me and said, "full name," and i blushed. The teacher looked at her and said, "WHAT?" and she looked back and said, "no.. just that... you used.. his full name." and she said, "yea, I did." and i said, "i'm flattered." But there id NO LAUGHING DURING LAB!!!!
Such has been my life for the past few months. i'm happy to be in class with every one that I'm with. even the people in the back that have apparently never seen a microscope before in their life (future nurses of america).
Joking aside, the past 6 months have been a real eye opener for me. I feel like, in times of duress, and feelings of helplessness, we pray or call out or just beg any one for answers. Why are these things happening to me? Where am i supposed to go in my life? Where will i end up? You can ask all you want but are you sure you can handle all the answers?
25 years of questions. 25 years of falling in and out of love, traveling to different places, and gaining and losing jobs. 25 years of happiness and complete depression, rock bottom, sitting on top of the world, and most of the time, feeling completely numb.
25 years. and in the last 6 months, some one 'up there' said, "ok ryan, let's start looking at your FAQ and see if we can't sort some things out for you." Open ended relationships have closed, lose ends have been tied up, questions i've been asking for 10 years, answered in a single night. A strong sense of destiny. These are all strong words, I know, but I've never had a time in my life where I ever felt so sure about some things, actually... most things... and just felt like I'm on the right path.
If you look at what I've posted as a religion, it says "quantum immortalist." I won't take the time to explain it all right now but, as a short version, it says that none of us die. We are all immortal and in those times of sickness or 'near death' accidents, even if we don't make it, we move on to a world in which we prevail. Spiritually I like to throw in that the people we lose is just fate or destiny telling us that they're no longer needed in our lives... and they'll go on to live in their own world where we didn't lose them. This is probably a lot to take in and I don't normally write like this. I'm not super religious but nor am I an atheist. The point I'm trying to make is that within the past 6 months, I just feel like a completely new me. A world in which I'm prevailing. Almost like there was a series finale and the narrator went on to say what every one ended up doing. Or that, like Hollywood likes doing right now, some one took the story of my life and recently did a reimaging.
in the end, you wrap up all the good with the bad, the things you've cried about and the things you laughed about. The friends you've had, lost, recently made. You take all of it and you blend it all together and, at some point, you really start seeing everything for face value, you know who you are, how others see you, and who you want to be. the self realization.
My guess is it's called maturity but... come on, i was never immature.
Tears never come easy for me, and now I can't seem to stop them. I find myself talking and then unable to finish the sentence thinking, "I just lost my dad." I hear from friends and family that 25 is a young age to lose your father, and to that I agree; however, if you knew our relationship, we packed in a good 35-40 years worth in (which is still young).
You never think you'll have to adjust your life to leading one without a father, a mentor. And by that, of course, I mean, for your average person with parents who are a part of their life. Of course you think of everything you wish you said or did but at least we both had an understanding that no matter how much crap we put each other through, we really respected and loved each other. What I didn't expect to think about are all the questions that ended up coming to mind. These are things that don't hurt as deep as the loss of a loved one but are a sore subject due to the fact that I wouldn't think about these things otherwise.
How is this going to shape me as a person?
How I handle this situation will greatly impact how I handle the world for the rest of my life.
I feel like I need to be alone for a while.
How does my dad feel about this? Do I do as best as I can to make sure he gets what I think he would have wanted? Is the funeral for him or for us?
My father didn't want to die, and was scared. I know for a fact my father was a very wise and intelligent man. A man who fears death and doesn't want to go, seems to be some one who feels death is the end.
Is there a God?
My father will never meet my wife.
My father will never meet my children.
I've never had a beer with my father.
A family of 3 is now 2.
Our relationship is over.
This is not me taking off a mask to share with you what's going on in my head. I do feel that this is a great opportunity to express how I feel a little bit. I could talk about what it's like to have my friends come to my father's wake and see him in his coffin. I could talk about what it's like to be 25 and at your dad's funeral at the church, friends there by your side, escorting your mother down the isle only preceded by your father's casket. I will tell you it feels like every one was watching me like they watched JFK Jr. at his father's funeral. At least, that how I imagine it felt like. These moments will forever be burned in my memory and heart. I'm sure you can imagine without me painting a picture.
But for those of you who are reading this... I wish two things to come out of this.
1. Knowing this is the effect of alcohol.
2. Finding time for you to mend relationships with close ones or get closer to the ones you have.
I don't want to sound like a hallmark card but I'll end with this story:
During the funeral, a friend of the family showed up. I haven't seen this man in a long time and when I do, he is usually drunk, at a bar, or in trouble. Every one was lined up to say a prayer or pay their respects to my dad, and then console my mother, my aunt and myself. I had taken a 2 second break as it started to become difficult to keep the pace. When I walked away, i had only a few moments to thank this man for coming, letting him know what happened, and telling him it's been a while. Later on, we finally had those moments while he was in line to have a chat. "Hey Ry. I'm really sorry." As he talked, you could smell the cheap vodka, cigarettes, bar scene. Normally I don't care. It's how my dad chose to live part of his life and it's the friends he made. I'm not mad at that. What pissed me off was that he was here, drunk. I gave him a solid guy hug/pat on the back and I said, "This is what alcohol does." "I know," he said. "no no... look at my dad... THAT'S what ALCOHOL does." If it weren't for for the fact that so many people had come, and so many people were waiting to talk to us, I would have brought him up and made him look closely at my dad and apologize for coming drunk. This is not the time. Instead, I see a friend of a family before me, going down the same path as my dad.
The point of this really isn't alcohol. I myself am known to drink a few beers, have a good time, etc. The point of all of this is: people aren't invincible. Watch you're health. Things catch up. Those cigarettes that you plan on quitting every year... it's time to quit. Of course, this sounds extreme and given the circumstances I'm sure you can understand my strong stance for the moment; however, if you don't plan on quitting or if you feel like you're ok... let's at least start taking things in moderation. Stay healthy.
I always said, "smokers know cigarettes cause cancer and will inevitably kill them. Therefore, if one chooses to smoke, it must be a form of suicide."
As for my second wish. You always feel like you have time with relatives and friends... I'm guilty of putting things off and thinking I'll catch up on birthdays. But honestly, when is a good time?
When you think to yourself that it's time to relax and slow down with the late nights, drink specials, and festivals, you tend to lay low for a night or two; but when your body tells you it's time, and gives you proof, then you know it's really time to slow down.
I've taken it upon myself to steer clear of any alcohol and tobacco related product until December 25th (Christmas). This decision wasn't made because I'm in bad condition or health but rather my observation of some one who is. It's a reality and a health condition that was once just a nightmare but is now claiming the life of said individual.
During this advent time, I will be exercising, working out (probably not at a gym, let's not get too crazy), and eating in a way that's good for me. And while 25 days is my goal, I suspect to go a week and a half / two weeks before unavoidable situations occur. I reason that while with friends, if we were to toast, cheers in good times, or attend a holiday party, a glass of eggnog won't set me back during the holiday season.
My old blogs were all written at Northeastern at the computer lab or in my old office. I started to slack when I was in Australia and after graduation because I rarely found time to write. Logical thinking would mean that your average blog I write is probably done at Northeastern... This particular time, you would be correct. Oh the old stomping grounds. I'm happy to see my old Wendy's waitress still yelling at the cooking staff "BACON!" when I order a number 1 for breakfast. Salute to the Co-op / work study students in the registrars office who told me to wait a second while she finished her text message. God bless the NU shuffle. Damn the addition to Taco Bell in the student center AFTER I leave... and a question mark as to why it's a "Pizza Hut / Taco Bell" combo station... what in the hell? A big props to the library security for letting me flash an expired NU card to get in... unless Alumni are allowed in.
Just looking around I remember all the things i used to blog about. The bald man besides me clearly looking at porn and then minimizing it to look around and see if any one notices... Yes mr. clean... i did notice. The Haitian man to my left who really isn't doing anything but biting his nails... I'm not sure what he's doing at all actually. To the guy behind me listening to his gigantic head phones ... correction. To the guy behind me playing us all reggae music while we study/waist time/read/bite our nails. I remember the days they would be looking over my shoulder as I typed. Talked about parties they were hosting. and took calls from their hearing impaired friends to which they would have to shout on the phone JUST to make sure that whoever was on the other end could hear them. Why do all calls made in a library go out to deaf people who should be getting a text message.
I had started a blog months ago that told about my palm reading on my birthday. The darkness would like to explain:
And she said to him, "it is your birthday."
and ryan said, "let there be lite... beer. and heavy drinking."
and she said, "let there be darkness."
One of the highlights from this years birthday is clearly getting my palms read by a psychic reader.
It's been on my mind for a while. I really wanted to go for entertainment value but, who are we kidding, why go to a psychic unless you want to hear something good. I walked in with a few friends and we were greeted by a woman (probably late 20s) with intoxicating blue eyes. The place was a house without any inner walls. Almost like a place to hold small PTA meetings or something... A man in the back was checking his myspace.
After hearing the prices and what it entailed, i decided to have my palms read. She asked my friends to leave and we sat next to the rocks and crystals and tarot cards, etc.
She asked to see my hands.
I wondered how much a person tells about themselves right off the bat by the way they present their palms. Mine were rested on my legs and I looked at them with her.
"Do I have permission to tell you everything I see, whether it be bad or good?" she asks me.
The readings begins.
Right from the start, I've made it a point to not say my name, how I'm feeling, that it's my birthday, or anything else that may give away clues (which I'm sure is a clue in itself).
"You're going to live into your 90s."
"you're going to be very lucky in business, you're going to be very successful"
"you've been heartbroken twice."
"ok... alright... " i say. I think, "I guess I can pull together 2 of many girls that have left me heartbroken"
"you have an ex girlfriend... who... she's very much in love with you and wants you back."
"ok" i say. My manner is changing. I'm thinking, "who doesn't have one ex who isn't thinking of them?"
"where were you? it's reading that she's in another state"
"i was in CT last year."
"where were you in early 2006?" "in school" I omit to say I was in Australia.
"that's when you were happiest."
"huh... i was in Australia finishing school" WHY DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD!?
she goes on to tell me about this mystery girl
"she very much wants you but is afraid to tell you because of how you're going to react. She's feeling that you're going to brush her off."
"hummm" now i'm thinking, "We're talking generic now."
"well she's your soul mate and you're destined to be together... helping people. But there is a force that's preventing you from living in the same state as each other."
"wow. cool." Let's get to the good stuff lady, you're starting to depress me. Plus, all of my ex's live in another state.
"you give a lot to your friends but when you need help, no one is ever there for you."
"...." I look at my palms... WHERE ARE YOU READING THIS STUFF?
"you're sad but you don't show it."
"Jesus... " Did I say that out loud? Not all positive stuff you're reading here huh?
"you go around with a smile but it's not how you feel at all. You push people away if they start to get close. you really put yourself down."
At this point I'm ready to hear what every one wants to hear from a psychic:
"oh... oh my... i've ... i've never seen anything like this before..."
And then on to hear about how I'm the chosen one and I'm actually Zeus reincarnated. That, in the future, millions will bow to me and I will defy a kingdom and run an empire of peace. We all want to hear how our palms show something like a story from the Matrix or Lord of the Rings... even the Bible.
Well I did hear that.
Followed by... "i've never seen a darkness in some one like this. ever."
Emphasis on the EVER. Again... "I've never seen a darKness in some one like this... EVER."
My heart drops. This is purely entertainment. I'm ready to leave. I'm not sure if she hit a soft spot or I just don't want to hear that I'm possessed by the devil. My answers get shorter.
I push through and she tells me I should really start meditating to rid myself of this darkness.
For a low low fee should could sell me the crystals that will help... if you've never seen anything like this ever... you would think she wouldn't let me leave the room OR she would scurry me out the door convinced I'm going to eat her soul... She did nothing of the sort...
So I ate her soul and went back to meet my friends.
12 more souls and I'll finally have the ultimate power.
Good bye people in the library... Goodbye to the new little asian girl behind me talking to her friend with her about homework.
He's sitting next to you...
WHY ARE YOU YELLING!?
It's been a long time since we last talked. Since my last entry I've loved and lost, traveled to Europe, been mugged in NY (as well as had a pillow fight), got a new job, started a new career, and traveled back to NY. I have a lot to talk about, I just don't know where to begin.
I guess I could start by saying I'm writing this on the back of a mini flip notebook while, unfortunately, in NY. I'm riding the shuttle to Newark Airport from LaGuardia. My transport driver is a funny kind of man (aren't they all) who has almost gotten me and another passenger killed on several occasions. These may even be my final written words. Nevertheless, while I get (literally) tossed around, I spread out my arms in the middle row, tilt my head back, and laugh...
You see, the driver has this one Otis Redding song playing on repeat. I guess it's the thought of the soundtrack of my death being "My Lover's Prayer", while my suicidal Haitian driver hums along and makes his way to Newark/NJ/Hell (ironic) is what really amuses me.
The passenger in front of me has taken a call. Her first sentence was, "You know what? I decided to go!" What a juicy conversation to hear... if the driver didn't turn up the volume on her. I laugh out loud.
It's 10:48 AM and I've seen so much. I awoke @ 4:30AM & was driven to Logan. I boarded the smallest plane I've ever been on, sat in the front row, and was seated next to, of course, the largest woman on the smallest plane. This made plane top heavy and we were delayed 30 minutes.
I fell asleep for most of the flight until, what I first assumed was a bowling ball, fell on my shoulder. It was, in fact, the large woman's head. I turned to see how I can remedy the situation but turned back when i realized her low cut shirt didn't do much to hide her voluptuous bosoms. I let her rest but stay attent as not to be drooled on or eaten.
Waiting in baggage claim for a group which wasn't show up, I saw one of the funniest things ever. A man, confirmed by myself as OCD, had come down the escalator and stood absolutely still. He was dressed all in white and stared straight forward. I assumed he was counting. While he took his time, others going for their luggage are now piling up behind him on the escalator. People are banging into each other, but no one is touching him. Finally he moved and the show was over.
I then sat and waited for my transfer to meet another group. After 30 min. of getting my day straight, the driver showed up.
"Are you ready Mr. Thomas?" He greets me.
"Yes Yes yes, whatever whatever..."
I get in the van with the lady already in there. We exchange credit card number a dozen times because one of ours doesn't work. He radios them in on a walkie talkie... thanks for the secure line.
And now here I am. In the back seat. Sliding from left to right and right to left listening to him talk on his cell phone... saying things like, "Be like Ms. Clinton man.. gotta be strong, gotta be tough." I can only image the situation that calls for the caller to be like Ms. Clinton.
Dear wine drinkers (you know who you are),
First, if you are a wine drinker and you love to drink a bottle by yourself to get drunk, please stop reading. If you're a snooty Fortune 500 wannabe, please heed my words.
Knowing a lot about wine does not make you a connoisseur. Nor does it make you anything you're trying to portray to be. Nay, I say to you wine drinkers. Wisdom, political expertise, running a business, fortune, fame, knowledge, character, and friends are not found in a bottle of wine (cheap or expensive). Saying you LOVE drinking wine does not make you above me, smarter than me, better looking, wealthier, or less of an alcoholic. Truth be told, 4oz of wine equals a beer (Keenan, 2008: Bartending School). And let's face it, you don't stop at just 1 glass, nor do you carefully pour 4 oz.
Snooty wine drinkers, although I can't stand your lifestyle, agree with your opinions, understand what you're talking about politically, or rationalize your religious view, I love talking with you. You tend to be the easiest to lie to. You tend to not know anything about everything. Socrates was once told he was the smartest man in the world by an oracle. He dedicated his time into finding out why. (Stop me if you know this wine drinkers, although, I'm sure you do). When asking people if they knew what being pious meant, people would say they knew. how wouldn't they? So Socrates asked, "what is it?" Not one of them had a definitive answer. When given a definition, Socrates would question it until it made absolutely no sense. My metaphor in all this is that I do not claim to even be smarter than you, but by no means am I saying I have the answers for the things you seem to just completely understand.
Oh the places you've been, oh the people you've seen. Learning about culture and the world must be so nice from the 5 star hotel or circling the private jet over African landscape. My experience comes from hostels, camping, and getting lost. Whatever shall I do? I have banked around $17, converted it to euro and spent it on a pint. My life is meaningless.
I will admit that holding a glass of wine adds a certain confidence boost or inflated ego. I have experienced this by drinking my martinis. But it no means should you let these feelings get in the way of your true character (which, let's admit, even if you're not holding a glass of wine, you're pretty snooty). Holding a glass of wine, filled to the half way point, while talking about wine and/or whining about wine and/or whining about something you know nothing about and/or talking about something you should know a lot about but don't, doesn't raise you up on my pedestal at all. It lowers it.
So next time, wine drinkers, if I'm talking to you, take what I say with a grain of salt. Our conversation is my playground. I can humiliate without you knowing. I can mock for my own amusement. I know nothing about finance, I've never traded a stock or a bond, I don't sail every week (nor do I know some one who owns a sail boat), I've traveled the world and will stump you on easy questions about the places we've both seen, I make up words, and I certainly love a good jug of Carlos Rossi.
And even if you read this, I'm confident it means nothing at all.
"this confession has meant... nothing" (American Psycho)-------
while fine dining on Newburry St. in Boston, a friend and I decided to surround ourselves with these people. We ordered a steak and cheese panini which we split because the beer itself was about $7. Or as they do on the menu:
Oh their blow out haircuts and tight white shirts that say words like "depression" or "fire alarm" or "cocaine." Their chains and -500- sunglasses. The way they sit with each other, entitled to everything they have (as long as daddy is still in the business).
Oh their low cut dresses that expose the flat chest because of the eating disorder (or the fake chest which, most guys, still find unattractive). Oh the collagen lips and the gaudy cell phone that no one needs.
"Mehh..." i utter. "This Boston is seemingly cluttered with these deandrites... how do they stand the blocked skyline? And those teams they have for the sports. Ghastly."
They look over.
"Mehhhh... " i utter and stare back.
MEH I SAY TO YOU.
Months have passed.
Where am I? Who am I? Why am I in New York? I HATE New York.
This isn't true, per say. I don't have amnesia nor did I black out for months at a time. The truth is in the past 8 or 9 months, a lot has happened which, looking back, seems like I had no control over... but I did.
I wondered, sitting in the transfer cab from one airport to another, what happened. How could one man get so jaded for so long? My life completely turned around from what was once such a life on track and with a primary objective. My career in shambles. Drinking, traveling, fighting, loving, losing, getting mugged, mystery after mystery.
When did I turn into some one completely different? Some one who loves attention, adventure, talking, meeting people... to some one who's complacent at home, wants to stay in, passes on parties, stays in bed to watch TV?
Depression? not hardly. I wish it were as easy as placing the blame on myself; it's not.
I woke up in June. in NY. a city that i utterly can't stand outside of muldoons (which is an irish pub just like in boston - a comfort zone).
My life is completely rearranged. I'm at a job which i thought would be an excellent idea. A new career. Once my days were spent deescalating patients, controlling emotions, talking people out of suicidal thoughts, taking vital signs, making sure people didn't die... now, i'm clearing my inbox, snoozing outlook reminders, filing TPS reports, making outbound calls and saying things like "I'm in the black."
I dont cry...relax... i say that for dramatic effect.
Looking back stirs emotions, questions, and, most importantly, fulfillment and satisfaction.
Thomas Edison was once asked about failing 700 times at making a light bulb to which he responded, "I have not failed 700 times, I just know 700 ways not to make a light bulb." (I don't want to hear what he could have said or if he really did invent the light bulb... let's leave it at this).
I guess it's a nice way of saying "you learn from your mistakes" or "you learn from experience." The truth is I have not failed these past months, nor do I regret anything; I simply know more ways how NOT to become the person I was meant to be.
I write this at work. The summer months have little opportunity to do work (although there is enough that should be done). I don't have much time to write but I do have a lot of things to share. mostly funny.
Consider this a return to blogging.
I’m currently riding the train and I’m not sure if some one claimed my seat or not. There are three tickets, signed, on the table in front of me (for a computer) but I figure, if they check my ticket first, I own this seat. I’m afraid to actually look at this person’s name because I don’t want to be haunted by the name of the man who’s seat I took.
Two days ago I took the train and this old woman, who smells like B.O., socks, fish sticks, cats, and another unidentifiable odor asked for my help with her luggage. I’m not sure how I became the go-to guy when it comes to helping people get on the train but apparently I wear a big sign on around my neck that says “bug me.” I don’t really care though. I was looking at her before our departure and watched her facial ticks, I watched her talking to herself and I looked at her expensive bag. In a blog I intend to write, I’m playing with two different ideas. It may be called “I see, I think, I act” where it would go:
I see an old handicapped woman waiting for the train. Her bags are more expensive then mine. I don’t know her story at all.
I think about how she looks happy despite her misfortunes. It’s a good thing.
I stand near her and look at her with a bit of jealousy.
And on and on and on…
However, when she started talking, it was clear she was a runaway from a nursing home, a halfway house, or something of the like. Her bags were probably stolen.
She ended up following me on the train, sat close to me, and tried talking to me on numerous accounts.
“The accela is a lot more luxurious”
“Yea, a lot faster too.”
“The accela is a lot more luxurious…” ooooooook.. You’re crazy.
I helped her get off the train.
“is this boston?”
She follows me. And follows me… and follows me. I almost throw up from the smell.
Then I think, this is kind of my profession. This is what I like to do. (other than work on art).
**that dude just picked up his tickets. He was worried he lost them. He looks like a dork.**
Anyway… the whole point of this story yea? I enjoy helping people. There is obviously no money in it at all but it pays for itself.
I’m at Back Bay Station, waiting for my train to come in.
I see... a bum coming up to me. He asks me for money saying “before you say no… I”
I think... he looks a lot more desperate than most bums.
... I cut him off to save him the breath. I have no money. I feel bad. He’s some one that looks like he really needs it.
I see... him ask another man. The bum never gets a chance to speak. The man he asks says, EXTREMELY rude “GET AWAY FROM ME.” Every one looks in shock.
I think... some one should say something to this man. He stands next to me.
... Angry I say, “hey man.. Get the fuck away from me.”
“You think that’s funny?”
“no… not at all. But seriously, get away from me. You’re not a person I’d like to be near and I was here first.”
He retorts but I don’t listen. I’m out of my element because I don’t normally speak my mind. I’m nervous and miss what he says. He walks away.
The other man next to me sort of gives me a half wink. All it takes is a simple gesture to help an old women get on a train. A simple reach in the pocket for some chump change (which, if you’re taking the accela, you’re either really broke or you def. have CASH in your pocket). He’s some where on this train now. Mad at life, MOST likely sitting alone. I hope.
I got a job.
As led zeppelin would say, “I wonder how tomorrow could ever follow today.”
Wait. I thought I was done but there is something amazing happening. Something I hope to do with my wife someday. There is a couple next to me… must be in there 60s. They have a pound of beer (16 ounces). They are sharing it… lovingly.. And also trying to hide it from the train conductors. He keeps looking at me hoping I wont notice but this is actually making my day right now. The funnier part is that it's legal to drink on the train... haha
Anything beyond 4 orders, you need to go inside. After that, you're going to be missing fries, maybe a JBC (Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger for those of you who don't know their fast food acronyms), or worse, a milkshake.
i want to thank the people who use the bathroom before me who take up all the air freshener EvERY time.
We even have that automatic freshener in the bathroom that will dectect odor and squirt... well every time i'm in there, it's out and it squeeks and whines and let's every one know.. yes.. i'm sticking up the bathroom.
and yes, there is no more coconut tropical island left to mask the fact that i've done #2.
(which, let's face it, is only good for making it smell like i shit out a coconut tropical island and doesn't really out do any other odor... in fact, if anything, it let's people know what you've done)
The most depressing Love Is was in yesterday's paper.
I saw it and thought... how amazingly depressing.
I'm currently looking for a job in Boston before i quit the one in Hamden. which means even though i'll have a place to live in .. in september, i'll be living in CT until I can go to work.
ANY ONE KNOW OF A JOB? i went to monster.com but i'm convinced they never get the resumes or anything else. I've resorted to try and calling them... wonderful.
"Hi my name is ryan and i'm inquiring about your job posting on monster.com that was posted in July of 2003. I was wondering if it's still open or if you've found some one to fill it within the past 4 years?"
wow... 4 years ago since 2003. I had to think about that for a second.
A man driving in front of me, going as slow as 13 miles an hour, decides to open his car door and run along side his car.
While driving back from Rhode Island, i passed a green VW Beetle. WIERD! no no, Kermit the Frog was driving the car. no fucking lie. A man dressed as Kermit the Frog (His head where Kermit's mouth opens up) was driving a green VW Beetle.
A fat girl, outside an ATM, drunk, HITTING her friend in the face. Then falling to the ground (presumably passed out). By the time I got out of the ATM, she was naked crawling on the ground.
I happen to love observing this, don't get me wrong. I just think there are a LOT of strange people in this world.
Last night, 2 or 3 guys coming up to me and just talking to me. One of them was hitting on my co-worker. "and this is ryan" said my coworker. "Yea, i know him.. you went to ND in West Haven, right?" "yes, i did... what year are you?" "04" "how would... you.. know me?"
Minutes later a guy came up to me and said "Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" "i was like "whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup?" "how have you been man?" "good good, how about you? I haven't seen you in years?" (I know that's a fact because i dont' know who this guy is).
what happened to me?
IN the past few weeks I've been soul searching. I gave up drinking and quit smoking cigs. (However, I got drunk last night because i didn't actually QUIT drinking, I just needed to slow the hell down). In weeks of sobriety following my birthday (yea, i'm 24 now) I've come to realize a few imporant things. One, i'm not happy. Two, I know WHY I'm not happy. Three, the thing that will make me happy, I will never get.
HOwever, I've also decided to really make the effort and battle my anxiety, panic, depression, and, what the doctors like to call, bipolar personality.
I've finally made a stand in my life but unlike all the other times, I make a stand now in confidence.
So i got a professional tarot card reading done.
I found out there is a lot more pressure on me than I thought!
For one, The card, THE STAR, is in my "near future" position. It states:
The Star in this position is focusing on your prime motive, the mission you were born into this world to accomplish this time around. This revelation can settle old, unresolved feelings that have been churning within you. As you understand more fully why you are here, you may finally come to accept a lot of the circumstances you previously viewed as setbacks
So i got that going for me. Finding out my meaning in this world. What interested me was the next card. My higher power card was the King of Swords.
The King of swords states:
...your natural wisdom is coming to the fore. You are discovering the sage within yourself. To follow this path requires letting go of habitual reactions. Your Higher Power wants you to realize that you must help raise the collective consciousness to a higher standard of balance and fairness...
They went on to tell me that not only will I realize my purpose in life, but i'll go on to show the world my wisdom. I have a job in this world, and it's to help people understand what life means. WOW!
I will take any and all questions reguarding life, the afterlife, transendental problems, existential mishaps, quantum.. leaps.. whatever you want.
What's funny is that before I even got my reading, I was writing a blog that informed every one about how unfair i've noticed things. (still in the works).
It's just funny what the mind can, and will, come up with when it's sober. No outside force, no drugs inside the system. You start to really realize WHY you do things. You start to remember the pains, the joys, your past, your future goals. You really put things in perspective. It turns out that my drinking was really me running away from things. A big heartbreak, a twisted family life, the fact that i'm 24 and i'm moving to boston... not in school, doesn't have a job... etc. I found that every one,
I started asking around actually. When I would sit at a red light, I would glance over at the person waiting next to me. A man, wearing glasses. I wondered what he was thinking, and why he had something to think about and I didnt.
I was driving next to this lady in an explorer and I couldn't help but wonder what occupies her mind. how come I can drive to work and not think anything at all... or actually think about how i have nothing to think about.. like i have to entertain myself.. and all these other people look like they have the weight of the world on their sholders.
There's something else to think about. You'll always have a running dialouge in your head. how the hell do you have SO MUCH to think about? Sometimes, i don't feel like talking to myslef. and my inner dialouge is like "sooo... what's umm... what's new?"
I always tell the tales of my winning with babes because it's few and far between.
Last night there was a co-ed line for the bathrooms in Stonebridge. I was at the end, and there were two girls in front of me who were pretty attractive.
A man walked over to them
"can i cut you ladies?"
"nooooo" they said at the same time
"how about I just get in between?"
"haha, no it's ok.. good try though. we would.." they told him to show that his efforts of picking them up did not work.
"you would? because of my eyes?"
"HA!" I let out... whoops... they all looked at me. He got to the back of the line (behind me).
The girls turned to me, "Would YOU have let him cut?"
"I would have let him back cut. not because of his eyes though.." They laugh. Two dudes walk out of the bathroom designed for one person. The girls turn back to me.
"i don't know about that... that's a little strange"
"you wanna come in with us? three people in a one person?"
"HAHA, yea you guys do you're think and i'll turn around in the corner..."
"close your eyes?"
"Yea, i'll stand in the corner AND close my eyes, you tap me on the sholder when I can go"
then the prettier of the two girls leans into me and says "You trumped that other guy... by a LOT."
"well thank you..."
Later i found out that the better looking one had some serious assets that i didn't notice prior. Had i noticed, i would have choked up.
spoiledDelight28: you cut the story short
Alien 005: which story
spoiledDelight28: the bathroom story
spoiledDelight28: it just ends
Alien 005: i didn't get her
Alien 005: i didn't try
Alien 005: nothing else happened
Alien 005: i pissed and when i walked out, the girl was there waiting for her friend and i said "wellll.. see ya later!"
Alien 005: then i saw her later on and she had the nicest coolie
Alien 005: it was amazing
I wanted to do a whole week but sometimes i get wrapped up in so much crap (and sleep) that i forget to take pictures.
Without further hesitation... here is a test run of a pic blog for a "day in the life of ryan keenan"
I awake in the day around 1pm, and begin to get ready to go to work.
While on the way to work, I rock out to Eddie Money - Two Tickets to Paradise
I get to work, and make copies of the worksheet i made (which took me about 45 seconds) about Hope and what it means to you.
I have a rice krispy treat
I look for 4 leaf clovers.... and don't find one.
After the kids are in bed, I nap and wait for 10:30 when I can leave.