Living a Dream

They say that light is the only constant in the universe. I disagree. The continuity of how stupid our species can be is indisputable. I'd like to give some examples that illustrate my point. Helmets. Why do helmets exist? They exist to keep our brains safe from traumatic injury. Do you know what else keeps our brains safe from traumatic injury? Not doing things that cause traumatic brain injury. We race motorcycles, play football, go mountain-biking, ski, snowboard, do construction work, and so many other things. All of these things require helmets because they've caused death by head-trauma. Only now, with the ongoing saga of NFL concussions, has anyone even considered the idea that - hey, maybe we shouldn't do these things that cause massive head trauma? Maybe helmets are a band-aid over the axe-wound that these things are causing? Just me? OK, fine. Watch any prime time TV show and you'll see a commercial for a medication. My favorite one starts with "tir

There's something to be said for a reputation. I know that, and I understand that. Michael Jordan is widely considered to be the best basketball player of all time - a claim which I won't dispute. He is a living god to the city of Chicago, and if you badmouth him in any way, locals will take it worse than if you'd said unkind things about their wives/mothers, etc. In Europe, when someone asks where we're from, Jenna answers Chicago, and if I answer, I say Cleveland via Chicago (or something like that). Invariably, everyone's response will mention one of two names: Barack Obama or Michael Jordan. But Jordan *much* more often than Obama. For the most part, I get it. He was the most dominant player for the better part of a decade. He was the face of the NBA. He starred alongside Bugs Bunny in one of cinema's greatest accomplishments. That's all true and inarguable. But there's a big part that I don't really get. For instance, I have a student of

So yes, the plan was to just travel as much as we could before we knew our schedules. During the first couple of weeks there was a lot of emailing, interviewing, and finding out what we might be doing for work. It came slowly, and the stress of not knowing where we could work and what exactly we would be doing motivated us to take short breaks in the form of weekend trips. A quick Google-Flight search showed us round-trip airfare to Brussels for about 40 euros per person. Again, that's round-trip. So that's how we settled on Brussels, and we knew next to nothing about the city.. The first course of action was to peruse wikitravel, which told us some things to see and do. Second course was to ask a friend of mine who lived in Brussels for quite some time, and he gave us a suggestion of a place or two to eat. Some time around noon on September 14th, we flew over the Alps and discovered that this was going to be a whole year of unbelievable new things. Our flight lande

As many of you know, this whole experience has given the two of us opportunities that we never imagined in our wildest dreams. Everyone has been asking, so I'm finally going to start writing about the specific travel experiences, and I'll start with our first one. (you should know that I've been keeping a travel journal that's currently 65,000 words/105 MS word pages long and counting, with at least 10 trips left to add. Soooo if any of you know anything about the publishing world, we should talk) Before we left the States, any overtime work or a big sale at work would be followed by "That's a trip to Switzerland!" Lugano, Switzerland is just across the border from Milan, a whopping 50 minutes away via train. This was our goal for the first place to whimsically go. We arrived in Milan on a Thursday and walked around the city a tad. We walked around it a lot more on Friday. On the way home we stopped at the main railway station...and we bought tickets t

When we first arrived in Italy, lots of people had questions about what was different. How are the people? How is the food? How is the language barrier? How is public transportation? How do you get around? Is it expensive? What's the best part? What's the worst part? And so on and so on (although most of you ask about the food and then everything else). All of those have probably been answered in previous posts, and if they haven't, sorry. Ask me again and maybe I'll answer. I experienced a very different sort of culture shock last week, and I want to talk about it. One of the more upsetting news stories of the new year was the Charlie Hedbo attack, which I won't heavily detail here. In short, they do satire, pissed off some extremists, and those extremists murdered a dozen people in the magazine's office. I believe this happened last Wednesday. The reason it stands out as Wednesday is this. I had a lesson Wednesday night with a couple of kids, aged 7 an

I'm talking about little things, and you've all heard this before. Not just the little things spoken of by the greatest assortment of musical talent ever , nor the little things spoken of by the most accessibly human gangsters you've ever seen, or even the little things from the song by Bush. I'm talking about actual little things to do for people that make a difference to them. See, it's very easy to make a comment to someone or to give a little something that reminded you of someone, and it's even easier to receive such things. About a week ago, Jenna and I were out for a walk in the evening, conversing (as we do) in English. We passed an older man by himself who suddenly burst out in struggled-English with "Have a good....! Uhh! Aaahh! Happy Holidays!" We laughed and thanked him and returned the well-wishes. Our best guess is that this guy heard us speaking English and got excited because he knew a few things and how to say them, and amid h

Things *are* different here. I give up. I won't go on pretending that everything is the same (I will, however, go on pretending that my last post wasn't about how things are different here). I do want to focus on one particularly curious area though, and that is the lovable supermarket. For you older stateside readers, you've been hearing about European-style supermarkets for years and years. There might have been one or two in your entire metropolitan area as of 15-20 years ago, but they're growing in number in the US of A. Aldi is the most notable one, and they're doing booming business (there are probably statistics to back this up, but I'll pass on them) in lots of big cities where people want cheap food options. Yes, you have to pay for bags. No, carts aren't an option. Yes, you bag your own groceries. These are some of the smallish quirks of the European grocery store. It's really very simple and they're almost indistinguishable from their

People have asked several times what it's currently like to live in Milan, and there are several answers I can give. Instead of answering them like a normal person (i.e. when people ask), I've been ignoring most of you for three solid months and will now unleash a brief and incomplete list of things that "define" what it's like to currently live in Milan. 1) Remember that scene in Beverly Hills Cop when Axel starts laughing at the two guys who walk past in their Michael Jackson jackets? It's like that. People all hear that Milan is a bigtime fashion city, and in a lot of cases it really doesn't matter. But nearly every day I will see someone who looks so ridiculous that I stifle laughter. There are lots of outfits that scream "prostitute" in America that apparently scream "I fit in" in Milan. It takes some getting used to. Also, saggy-butt parachute-style pants are honestly a thing over here. Young males wear them and don't see

If you know anything about me, you know I love lots of really stupid things. Good Christmas music is on the list. But since I have some sort of self-respect (none), I've decided to make a list of the best Christmas songs that exist with brief explanations as to what makes them so great. These aren't all the standards, but you may recognize a few names. The Backstreet Boys - It's Christmas Time Again. A little-known ditty by a lotta-known band. I didn't know this jam until my much-much-better half took me to a BSB concert in December 2013. They were chatty, fun, energetic, and proud of their newest holiday jam. Take a look at the video and tell me they don't look as fresh as ever! Kanye West (et al) - Christmas in Harlem Another subtle, understated, insanely popular artist with a song that somehow kinda flies under the radar. Rappers have a tougher time getting into this habit lately, even though the namesake for this article exists and is seen below. Newis

Roughly 100% of what I've seen from the internet this week has been bad news. I don't want to contribute to that flux. Chin up, world, we can't all be that bad. The fact that a lot of people are angry and protesting and showing that they actually give a shit shows that, well, people are angry and protesting and showing that they actually give a shit. Giving a shit is a great thing. Continue. Fight the fights that deserve to be fought. Being 4000 miles away from the US is weird, especially when I'm reading about the states all the time and what's going on there. I don't really want to write about the things I'm reading because everyone has, so I'll trust you (people who are so obscenely smart as to read things that *I* write) to make informed opinions about life and try not to generalize everyone and everything. Three things have happened to me that were really note-worthy this week and I'm gonna tell you about them now. Number 1: Someone asked

As it's a week later, I thought I'd update everyone on what it was like to spend Thanksgiving, a purely American (and American in its celebration tactics, especially) holiday, in Italy. First, we'd heard about the handful of restaurants in Milan that would be offering Thanksgiving dinners to patrons. You come in and throw down what should be a reasonable sum of money and have your free run of turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and more, or so we expected. We started looking into these places and - look at that! the prices started at about 55 euros per person and went up from there. You don't have to google the exchange rate - that's upwards of $70 per person for Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant. Considering we once got two round-trip flights to Brussels for about 60 euros total, this option was officially eliminated. Option number two was a simple one: Go to some grocery stores and pick up a few items that would properly mimic Thanksgiving foods. A turkey-based di

I like it here in Italy. I've written thousands of words into a pseudo-journal about what life here is actually like, not to mention the thousands and thousands of words about the traveling we've been doing on weekends (which is currently at 10 countries and 13 trips in 13 weekends, ho-hum). There are, however, some things that I cannot figure out, and I will tell you about one particular thing that happened to me today. I teach a class at a school in the suburbs. My commute includes two metro trains (like the el in Chicago), a regional train, and then a bus to the school. Three weeks ago, on a rainy day, I was waiting for the return bus to take me back to the train station in this suburb - called Monza, for what it's worth - so I could arrive at my next lesson that evening. As my bus pulled toward the stop where I waited, I stepped toward the curb in anticipation of, you know, getting on the bus. You can imagine my surprise when the driver looked at me and opted not to

Have you guys ever read The Odyssey? You probably have. It's long, Greek, and there are about 75000 names used in it over the course of seemingly a thousand pages. You might also remember it for things like Calypso, a whirlpool, Polyphemus the cyclops, Sirens, and various people being murdered for various things, not to mention the tail-end of the Trojan War being recounted within its pages. The reason it might sound familiar but not-that-familiar is that most people seem to be reading this book between the ages of about 12 and 16. This is one of the most loaded books in the history of ever, and it's complicated enough just to follow the plot (Homer, the author, invented the concept of in medias res , where the story begins in the middle and jumps around a bit through flashbacks and such, a style now known as "The Tarantino" or as "the way that one guy makes those weird movies with lots of violence"), let alone follow all the names involved, the historical

This is a sequel to Monday's post about Drama English and the worst person I've ever met. In life there are certain phone calls that you dread. Ones you have a premonition of before they ever happen, or the moment the phone rings, you know something terrible has happened. Maybe a loved one has been in the hospital, maybe your child was out late and the phone rings past midnight, maybe your significant other has…something to tell you. Whatever it may be, these exist. Let me tell you about the call I just had. I sometimes fear the worst when a boss calls. I know that’s kind of childish of me, but I do. In fleeting moments, I still fear authority and don’t want to “get in trouble” or whatever it’s called as an adult. So when my phone rang this morning and it was my supervisor - she's my boss, but it's not as if she comes to my lessons or anything. She's more of a tutor-pimp - from one of the lessons, I had a long “should I answer?” debate with myself. Ul

For realzies, guys. We just had our Improv level D show tonight...and it was friggin fantastic. Sure, there was a little mishap with the timing and we didn't get our allotted 25 minutes and they actually just cut the lights before we were done, but it was still awesome. I've got great news that sprung from this: My suspicions were true...this is my drug. After our level C show a couple of months ago, I didn't feel good about myself. The show went fine but I didn't like how I performed...I didn't feel like I was focusing on the right aspects of the scenes - I wasn't creating anything interesting, I was just kinda sitting back and letting it happen around me. I was passive, and it felt stupid. But tonight, getting off stage after that show...it was totally different. I felt like I performed well and was completely in tune with my scene partners and wasn't worried about what was going on in the crowd. It just felt amazing. I was on a huge emotional high for a f

Sometimes I think all day about something I want to write when I get home. It might be something funny that I saw/heard/read/took in by using one of my senses. It doesn't have to be funny...it could elicit any emotion, really. Or it might be something that I just kinda thought up during the day and wanted to elaborate on. What invariably happens is that I think about it during the day, lose some steam on what I wanted to really get into, talk for about 20 minutes with someone about that thing, and don't bother writing it. So where does that leave me? It leaves me with a good conversation and nothing to write about. It's a blessing and a curse. Curse because I like writing and generally want to write about these things I think up. And blessing because I'm not so painfully alone that I have no one to talk to and am forced to write it out instead. (Not that I'm suggesting that all writers are the lonely/reclusive type...but have you seen most of these jokers?) Here

Baby, don't hurt me . Sorry about that. This entry should really fall under the "makes you wonder" category and thus the other blog, but it's something that I've been thinking about since moving to Chicago, so it stays here - as this is the Chicago/entertainment world/whatever it is blog. I was on the bus home from the first time I've ever done improv on a stage in front of people who weren't my classmates (went alright, more nerve wracking than I expected) and I got to thinking. Over the last month or so I've had to say goodbye to an awful lot of people. Not permanent goodbyes, thankfully, as I think I've done a pretty good job keeping up with most of them. These people are my closest friends and family and they mean the world to me. So when I tell these people that I love them, it comes as no surprise. They say it back in most cases, and we go on our way. But we never stop and try to articulate it. There were at least two people who I had planne

I'm not trying to be manly, but I don't consider myself as the type who is afraid of a lot of things. I'm not afraid of heights, spiders, truck drivers, or even Germans. So I'm not going to write a post titled "fear" and tell you all about any kind of standard fear (like my fear of dirty dish-water and how when I touch it, it triggers my gag-reflex). Nor will I pretend I'm great because I went skydiving on Sunday. Yes, it was completely insane. And no, I'll not soon forget it. And yes, I get sick on roller coasters but still thought this was a good idea. That's not the kind of fear I'm talking about. I do have one or two very real fears, though. I want to try to dig into one of them. We'll see how this goes. I have a paralyzing fear of being like everyone else. Anyone reading this, whether you know me well, have only met me in passing, or only know who I am because you stumbled upon this and have never met me in a face-to-face environment,

Disclaimer: this post has nothing to do with me wanting to be famous or anything like that. It is exclusively about how I feel about the country in which I live. I've been told that the easiest way to write is to write about something you love, or at least about something you know. If you get lucky, those two are the same. I'm feeling lucky. The current world climate is full of moments that make you think "boy, maybe I am really lucky, I shouldn't take so many things for granted," but how often do you really take that to heart? Hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, market crashes, bailouts, unemployment...these things happen - some of them are worse than others. But through the good and the bad, one thing rings true to me. There is nothing I love as much as I love my country. I wanted to write this on Memorial Day when I got home from work, but what happened instead only affirmed my love for all things American. Someone I know called me because their basement had flood

There's a commonly used expression that says you should do something every day that scares you. I'm not so sure that this is a safe practice because I don't have the money to do a lot of scary things like parachuting, alligator wrestling, heli -skiing, or asking someone to marry me (easily the scariest on the list). That leaves me with less expensive fear options like driving on the wrong side of the road, walking into the Crip neighborhood with Blood colors on, or what I did today; stand on the top of a really shaky ladder and paint a barn on a very windy day. I realize that painting a barn isn't gonna get me the street cred that Coolio has, but I'll be damned if I didn't feel a gust of wind, wobble a little bit, feel my heart skip a beat, and then laugh about how awesome it was. My point is this: How great is that feeling? How cool is it to know that something could have gone horribly wrong, but it didn't? Does anything make you feel more alive than that