A Lesson From My Dad

At the age of 12, maybe 13, I was with my Dad in New York City, Upper Manhattan to be exact.  I hadn't seen my Dad for about a year; it was good to be just one on one with him.  Why we were shopping is fuzzy now, but I think I wanted soccer cleats.  Why we were near Tiffany's, Armani, etc. isn't exactly clear either. 

We were having one of our typical atypical chats.  The type that simultaneously revolved around some heroic character from a movie, their actions, what they meant and how they related to us.

 I can remember Dad stopping abruptly, "Son of a bitch!" The rarity of the curse startled me and we stopped instantly.

"What? What's going on?"  I'm looking around, a large tour bus parked on the curb next to our left, an expensive men's clothing store to the right.  I'm scanning our surroundings, trying to ascertain the object of my dads expletive.  My eyes pierce the glass front of the store to find an older man wearing tight bell bottom jeans, a flashy western style button up that's casually rolled up to the elbows, and a crinkly old cowboy hat.  His shoulder length dark brown hair flowed out behind his hollow aquiline face as he walked to towards the door, entourage of a few men following.  I dismissed him offhandedly and asked my father again.

"Just wait here a second."

So, I accepted my fate to stand there in silence, wondering what was happening.  My thirteen year old mind raced through the only conceivable options: an old friend of my fathers from his high school years on Long Island, an old foe from his past?  I settled on old foe, and I was ready to see my father in action; isn't this the grandest idea every thirteen year old can come up with?  I thought my father was invincible.  I used to argue with my best friend in fifth grade whose dad could lift more weight.  Their dad could do six-hundred?  My dad could seven-hundred.  I stood in intense anticipation. It didn't matter that my dad was in his 50's and he'd left his rough and rowdy ways behind some decades ago.

The rocker cowboy exited the store with a small entourage of men.  One steps to my father to intercept as my dad makes his way towards the rocker cowboy.  He stepped past, ignoring the larg forearm attempting to block his way, brushing the arm aside. "Excuse, Mr. Yoakam.  I'm Kenneth Krauss.  I just wanted to let you know that I am a big fan of yours and appreciate the work you've done."  Past that I don't remember the conversation.  The way they just chatted and the two handshakes they shared, at the beginning and the end, made them seem like old best friends.  My father has this way of talking to anyone of putting them at ease, talking to them like they're his equal, and sometimes like he's their superior, whichever to suit his needs.

Now though, I think back and realize that my father, a 50-something at the time, retired draftee who served as a warrant officer in the army as a medic, a PA in the VA for the past two decades or more was talking to Dwight Yoakam, a very successful musician who apparently owned the aforementioned tour bus.   He just walked up to him right off the street.  He didn't allow Dwight to decide when their conversation was over either, he simply said, "Well, I've got to get going.  We've got some shopping to do." Putting his arm around me, since he'd introduced me earlier.  Dwight thanked him for his support and bid us a good day.

These are the sorts of things I remember with my Dad.  Teaching me lessons even when he wasn't trying to.

Thanks

I wanted to give a little thanks to SincerelyTheYoungCardianl for reminding me that I need to keep updating the blog.

I didn't think anyone outside of my own friends or family (if even them) read my blog.  I figured it was just me writing to nothing.

Thanks for letting me know I'm not alone out here in this blogosphere.

Cheers,
Jared

The Disappointment of Summer

I had all these dreams of all the reading and writing I would do during summer.  All the studying of Arabic that would occur.  I dreamed of the knowledge I would gain.

Summer is halfway through and I have read...meh 2 1/2 books - and done little to no studying of Arabic.

Instead, I have been lazy, sleeping late every day.  I have partied with friends.  Worked out hard and made huge gains in the gym.  I have played soccer at a level I thought not possible anymore to me (due to my ankles).

I had to remind myself of a lesson that I relearn throughout the year.  To enjoy the unexpected.  When I travel I always have this idea of what my trip will be like.  (England: soccer fields everywhere, people wearing jerseys everywhere - reality - a big city ...like any other)  The trip is never what I expect, but that doesn't make it any less enjoyable. 

So, this summer, while not what I had planned, was just as enjoyable.  I learned a lot about myself, my friends and life in general.

Folks, remember to enjoy the unexpected.  Don't let the monotony of our lives in America rule your life.  Toss yourself a bone and take a random opportunity now and again, go on an adventure and enjoy what life has to offer.

Peace,
Jared

A Word from the Wise: Men's Fashion Mistakes

I got this link from Valet and thought it was spot on.

It has tips from Dolce & Gabanna to John Varvatos and so on.  Good tips and easy to fix mistakes outlined here.

Fashion Mistakes Men Make

A Random Thought On Death

Today, I woke around 11:30 (Pretty good for me) and drank my protein and sat at my computer to catch up on Facebook, soccer news, my email, etc.  I sat down and looked at my ITunes, "What music to play?"  I sat staring at it and quickly become annoyed.  I prefer my music to be clean and organized.  I had been downloading a lot of new music lately and not been keeping it orderly.  So, I set out to find a program to help me out with this.  I decided to give Tune Up's free trial a go.  I love it.  Granted, you only get 100 songs free and 50 Album covers.  However, there is a trick.  Use all of your songs but a few.  Then, go through your music and search the song and just change the information by hand, rather than allowing Tune Up to do it for you.  Then you can organize all of your music, all with the trial version of Tune Up.  That being sad, when you're idly repeating a process a  hundred times, you get used to it and your mind begins to drift.  My mind drifts all the time, but especially in these situations.

I was thinking of Scotland.  I need to get my plans going.  I need to get the application started.  I need to send out the letters for the recommendations.  I need to look at the essays.  I need to look at the cost.  I need to figure this out.

My mind drifted more.  What am I going to do while I'm over there?  Hmm.  Go somewhere dangerous. :D That would be fun.  What if something happened to me?  I carried on with this line of thought for a while.

I suddenly got a sense of profound sadness.  I thought about all the people I have been rude to, the people I dislike.  The people I care about and have neglected, been rude to, etc.  I wish there was a way to apologize to all of those people.  I wish there was a way to tell all the people who have hurt me that I forgive them.  I don't hold grudges, really.  I don't think I do.  
 
If someone insults me, offends me, etc.  I have given them that ability to do so.  It is my fault that that happens.  However, I can forgive and forget.  Although, my opinion of you is changed now.  I think of it like this.  You get a new dog.  He's a big dog.  He's nice, likes to play.  He can be pretty rowdy.  You're playing with him, pulling his toy, pushing his head.  Playing with him.  Then, suddenly, it goes from playing to something more serious.  The dog snaps at your hand, hard.  You pull away in fear, shock, surprise?  You look down to your injured hand being cradled by your other against your body, blood has been drawn.  The dog is still standing there, waiting for you to act, confused.  He's just hurt you.  Next time you go to play, you're more than likely going to keep a better eye on things, maybe not get as rowdy, or maybe not play like that at all anymore.  You don't hold any ill will against your dog, but you know better now. That's how I am.

So, let this be my word to them.  I'm sorry. I forgive you.

Life is too short to hold grudges.  Life is amazing, get out and see it.

I will always remember St. Augustine's quote, "The world is a book, and those who don't travel only read one page."

Peace and Love,
Jared

1 Thing I Have Decided

I'm going to Haiti again.

Yup.

That's right - Haiti.

I went there this Spring for my Spring Break.  It was absolutely amazing.  I mean, look at all the posts about it.  Seriously, go look at them.

So.  I have less than two months to get my shit together and raise about 1000 dollars.  Shouldn't be too hard, right?  Nah.  We'll see how it goes.

Ideas so far for fundraising:

1. Car Wash - With girls :D haha
2. Change Jars at businesses
3. Ask the newspaper to print an article about it.
4. Ask for donations from businesses.
5. Send letters to persons I know.
6. Do fundraisers at restaurants.
7. Go to events and ask for money.
8. Ask the Dollars for Scholars program to donate one night of 50/50 to my cause.
9. Ask my family.

Frustration is Frustrating

Hey, been a while, eh?

I know...

Summer is great, but...not having a schedule every day ruins my days.  I don't really do anything - haha - some people would love this right? You thin you would, but you wouldn't.  I like having shit to do...gah..

Frustrating...Sister gone today until next Tuesday - got up decently early compared to recently (12:30PM) and actually started getting things done.  Even worked out - now to just keep this going and get up earlier (go to bed earlier)

I need to be doing more writing - more reading - more thinking - I haven't really done much of any of the aforementioned - I feel like I'm trying right now - trying to write this, I don't like it.

I'm tense...I need to relax, a nice long bike ride - or do some work and just take my mind off everything..

Peace,
Jared

A Dedication & Notes On a Short Story: A Love Affair

I feel like it has been forever since I last actually sat down and just wrote. It's been a while since I posted on here. The other night, while watching a movie, I was inspired to write a little short story. It's been brewing in my head since the other day. Today, after beginning an article in an issue of Times magazine from earlier this year on Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, and stealing the magazine after my appointment so that I could finish the article and thus the whole magazine, I was in a writing mood. That article was magnificent. It captured Gates, his person and it was just damn good nonfiction. It made me want to write. So, I went to into my makeshift room in the back of my childhood home, the room I'm occupying now returned from college. It has just a box spring and a mattress slung in the corner, low to the floor, no sheets on top, a mess of pillows and one blanket. It's surrounded by my clothes, piled on a table, and an assortment of furniture derived from our house and the past 15 years, as well as items of mine from my dorm room.

As I wrote I seemed to get that feeling when you stand up too quick after sitting or lying for too long.

I was feeling like I was viewing myself from above, whilst writing still. I was literally caught in this story.

Notes on a Picture I took in Haiti

Notes on a Picture I took in Haiti

Posted using ShareThis