The City of Angels and a Little Advice

This past weekend, I flew out west to tear up LA with MJ 2.0. Schedules being what they are, these four days were the longest uninterrupted stretch of time we've spent together since we met o so long ago. We didn't let it go to waste. MJ gave me a regular tour d' force of the local attractions, including such famous and phenomenal sites as the Griffith Observatory (by night and by day), the Getty Villa, and Sid Grauman's Chinese Theater. We indulged ourselves in an incredible, magical, mystical array of food and drinks -- Thai, vegan, and sushi; french dip sandwiches at Phillipe, hot dogs at Pink's, and tacos from a street vendor; mojitos at Ciudad and cocktails in MJ's tenth-floor downtown studio. We cruised everywhere from Skid Row to Rodeo Drive, and one night we caught The Taking of Pelham 123 in the Arclight dome.

Of course, the highlights of any trip are the adventures you don't plan. This worked well since both of us hate planning. Other men have accused me of fearing commitment, but MJ brings out my roll-with-the-punches spontaneity to the nth degree. In fact, we were wandering around Union Station and nearly jumped on a random train -- definitely would have if we didn't have dinner reservations with a friend. (MJ: "I hate having reservations. It's too much commitment." A man after my own heart.) The unplanned adventures we had sometimes rose from the ashes of plans that fell through, like the afternoon it was too cold to go body-boarding so we instead strolled on the beach and hunted for starfish and crabs in the rocks. Sometimes we just stumbled on things, like a fancy cocktail party in the ballroom of the Roosevelt where we were sneaking around looking for Marilyn Monroe's ghost. (Didn't find her, by the way, but did suddenly feel tragically under-dressed.)



We also got quite a thrill just cruising around one day. My esteemed tour guide's commentary went something like this: "On the right up here there's this awesome Brazili... THAT'S A BUGATTI VEYRON!!" The most expensive and (arguably) the fastest car in the world. Definitely not something you'll spot buzzing around my little Nowhereville, Michigan. Pretty amazing to see it "in the wild" like that, just chillin' like a villain outside a restaurant.

This trip, like all the best trips I've taken, started with the urge to go catch up with an old friend, and it only reinforced what I already knew -- the absolute, hands-down, best way to travel is by visiting friends. The last time I was in LA, I was with a couple deadbeats who took me to Universal Studios and Six Flags, and beyond that we saw almost nothing of the city itself. This go around couldn't have been in sharper contrast. I'm thoroughly flattered by the way MJ cleared his schedule and devoted himself to my entertainment 24 hours a day, making even the drabbest and darkest corners of LA enjoyable and adventurous. His energy, his humor, and his passion for the City of Angels made the trip for me.



I caution you, dear reader, to choose your travel companions wisely. A good rule of thumb is this: If someone bores you at home, he will have you clawing your eyes out on the road. If someone annoys you at home, you will murder him on the road. At the very least, you'll bicker like an old married couple, saying things you despise other people for saying and using that tone you swore you'd never take with each other. It may be tempting to travel with your flavor of the week/month/year, whoever's currently making you all starry-eyed and stupid, but you're likely to regret it. Even a relationship that works well at home can develop an ugly side under the many stresses of being out of your element.

Instead, travel with people who are tested and true, and people whose idea of a good time aligns with yours. I, for example, have to travel without an itinerary. I like a generous block of time, a diverse list of possibilities, and the freedom to move in whatever direction the moment lends itself to. For that reason, I travel with my friends who are energetic, spontaneous, and not wound too tightly. Furthermore, I travel with friends with whom I have such a firm and weighty history that any adventures or misadventures that occur couldn't possibly jeopardize our friendship (and we certainly have had some misadventures). Boyfriends, on the other hand, will come and go according to how hectic the traffic was, the state and cost of the hotel, the delay of a flight, illness or sheer exhaustion, and a million other variables.

In short, your trip will be smoother, more peaceful, and more pleasant if you keep in mind what Byatt wrote: "Friendship is rarer, more idiosyncratic, more individual and in every way more durable than this [poetic] Love."

Well, Hello There

Isn't it amazing how quickly we fall in and out of our little habits? This blog fluctuates for me, from ritual to chore to dusty shadow of a pastime and back again. I haven't been especially busy, but blogging has simply slipped steadily down the priority list.

Instead, over the past few months I've been occupying myself with winding down the school year, which included teaching Life of Pi to my advanced seniors -- officially my most rewarding teaching experience thus far. School ended last week, and now I'm free to do my usual summer routine of bouncing around irresponsibly, visiting all my friends, and spending all my money.



In family news, we've had a pretty interesting year. I got a new little brother. Steven, a sixteen-year-old German exchange student, has been living with my family to finish out his last year of high school. He'll be returning to Mannheim indefinitely in July, but we're hoping he'll be back here eventually for at least a year of university. I completely adore him. I have two older brothers and a younger sister, but having a baby brother is an entirely new experience for me -- one which has involved a lot of teasing and a lot of side-splitting laughter.



As we're winding down to the end of his stay, we've naturally been spoiling Steven a bit, which included taking spring break in Florida at our uncle's and enjoying quite a bit of time on that beauty of a boat. We've also taken him to Holland (Michigan, that is) to see the lake and the tulips, and last week, I took him down to Cedar Point.





Got Kitsch?
I so love Holland.





I will pit CP against your finest theme park any day. The impressive-looking ride shown below is the Top Thrill Dragster -- 420 feet tall; 0 to 120 mph in 4 seconds. Yeah, that is a schweet ride. Definitely a thriller. Maverick -- which they wisely put in the place of that stupid canoe ride -- is awesome as well. Fast, unpredictable, and very smooth. Loved it.





My other big adventure this spring has been moving. A huge arigato to craigslist for helping me unload my apartment! Once free there, I moved in with a couple of my coworkers in what has quickly become known as the "teacher frat house." We don't have a sofa on the deck, but we're planning on throwing keggers every weekend and putting up some big Greek letters. Jury's still out on how the neighbors will respond, but our male roommate explained our Three's Company set-up to the mailwoman by telling her he was running a brothel. That went over well, as I'm sure you can imagine, and is only the tip of the iceberg.


Sayonara, apartment living!

Headed to LA in the morning to catch up with MJ 2.0, then just have a brief return home to wash laundry and repack before heading to Japan with a group of six students. Wild rides ahead, folks. Hold on to your hats!

Photo Requiem for a Musician

After seven years of losing your hair, and losing weight, and blood tests, and IVs, and hospital food, and vomiting, and insomnia, and fear, and pain, and coughing, I hope you have finally found some peace, James. Here are some of the old band photos -- in them, you look happy and strong, the way I will remember you.

Guitar Cast IV

Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz
Still working on this one, but I like it...

Tempus Fugit

This weekend we got our first proper snow of the season. On Saturday it rained and drizzled and froze and culminated in a slushy mess at the foot of the driveway, but on Sunday the snow came drifting quietly down in great clumpy flakes. I tried to explain the significance of this to my nephew; he quickly reminded me that at six months old, he's not quite interested in snowmen or sledding yet. In fact, he's not concerned with much beyond bottles and rattles and his auntie's dangly earrings.

I'm rather enjoying Nephew at this age. He's a profoundly happy child. Every time someone pulls a face at him he bursts into laughter, and he stares at me in awe whenever I play the guitar. (He seems to prefer John Mayer to anybody else. We might have to work on this... Sorry, John Mayer.) But as much fun as he is right now, he's growing like a weed. Every time I see him -- which is pretty frequently -- he has a new trick. His newest trick is the fine art of Mobility. Yikes, baby boy!



And while we're speaking of people growing too fast, my students -- most of whom I met two years ago when they were barely sophomores -- are now well on their way to graduation. When I first started teaching at my current school, I taught 10th grade. The following year, I moved up to 11th grade. This year, I'm teaching seniors. The result of my professional evolution has been that I've had the same base group of students for three years and am now inextricably attached to them. I'm up to my eyelids in college application essays they want me to look over and have already written a couple dozen letters of recommendation, but I still can't quite wrap my brain around the idea that they are leaving.



Of course, I plan to thoroughly enjoy them between now and May, and they're making that pretty easy. Not only are they behaving like angels, they're also working harder than ever, in class and out of it. Every year for Thanksgiving, our school has a massive food drive to benefit the community. The kids pour their hearts into fund-raising for it, and this year, of the 28 kids in my AP class, 18 of them were directly involved in the senior class's primary money-maker -- The Senior Auction. As a proud supporter, I went to the auction and "purchased" a trio of my boys. Their task in return for the money I paid was to each perform a soliloquy from Hamlet for their classmates. They did a fantastic job. In addition to their assignment, they also brought me a mass of roses, a box of chocolates, and a latte; made me lunch; and prepared a little N'Sync dance number for the class.

I love these kids.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time?