8/22/14
John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York
In many ways, the 12 days since I closed have been two of the best
weeks in my life, but they have also been difficult in many ways. I have done something other than sit in my
apartment surfing the internet every night since then, I believe. Some adventures have been more rewarding than
others, but, whether it was a movie in Bryant Park with a very dear friend or
catching up with a drinking buddy who is on the opposite end of the spectrum as
I in every single way possible or spending the night working from home, I have
enjoyed each evening. Even my weekend
was busy doing something other than travelling or relaxing at my parent’s
place. I get tremendous pleasure out
being productive, out of making the best use of my time. The past 12 days have been very
productive. All work is an act of
philosophy. I get no greater pleasure
than using my reasoning my end to create wealth. Well, that’s not true. Executing a successful trip or spending time
with a woman I love would rank higher.
With my boss out this week, I had to fill in for him in many ways. I worked at least a 50-hour week, including
attending a very important meeting with our biggest client. I acquitted myself well in all regards, and I
felt great about it. I will close for now, since first class is now boarding.
Correction, the flight to San Juan was now boarding. I might not have minded spending the weekend
in Puerto Rico, but I didn’t have my WHS stuff with me, so it would have been
kind of pointless. I will treat Day 0 En
route, so I can continue to explore Days -11 through Day -1. This is not a diary, so it would be beyond
the scope to give a detailed description of each Day, but I will give an
overview. I have not left the five
boroughs since I got back from Canada, though I did venture to Brooklyn and
Queens each one time. The trip to
Brooklyn was for an inspection. The trip
to Queens was to see a Mets game. I
didn’t care about the game. It was
because I was invited. After my brother
and my best friend, there is no one else in the world I enjoy hanging out with
more than her, even in a platonic way, especially in a platonic way. She had invited me to a series of events over
the past few weeks, and I accepted each time.
It didn’t matter what the event was, only that she would be there and
that there would be alcohol. To me, the word
“hanging out” inevitably involves alcohol.
It just makes everything more fun.
She is the kind of person that gets me, and I feel that I can be myself
with her. That is more important than
anything. It is why I enjoy hanging out
with her. I don’t have to put on an act
with her. I don’t have to pretend to be
someone I’m not. More than anything, I
don’t have to hide the “crazy” side of me.
In the two years I’ve known her, I’ve never hidden anything from
her. I am comfortable around her, and
that is very important, as well. About 6
years ago, I was dating a girl, though I suppose I never really thought we were
dating, and she met me at the office one evening. We got a kick out of each other, and my
father always likes to remind me about that, how comfortable we seemed laughing
with each other. This coming from the
man who was once beholden to a philosophy that preached love as “mutual respect
and shared values.” Maybe love is only
about “mutual respect and shared values.”
Maybe love is about interaction of “style.” Maybe love is about wanting to hold someone
in your arms and never let go. I have
spent enough time and effort philosophizing about love, but love is not happiness. Love is love.
Happiness is happiness. Happiness
is the Final Cause. Love is merely an
Efficient Cause on that path.
If you are
happy when you are around someone, happy to your fundamental core, is it not
the epitome of irrationality to try to explore the reasons in any philosophical
manner, just as it is wholly irrational to try and force yourself to be happy
with someone because you think that you should love her from a philosophical
standpoint? Is it not wholly irrational
to want to be with someone because she knows how to solve a quadratic equation
rather than because you can’t stop smiling when you’re in her presence? My father has been trying to get me to
understand that for over a year now. On
Sunday, I realized that he may have been right.
He usually is.
Aboard DL 2619, En route JFK-PDX
As I travel towards my brother and the love of his life at 600 miles
per hour, I am forced to think about their relationship. In a word, they are perfect for each other,
mamash perfect. From the day I first met
her, I knew they were going to get married, long before they did, probably even
before they even thought about it. While
I wear many hats, both at work and in my personal life, I am, first and
foremost, a chess player. It is
impossible to truly see the future, but is possible to be a good enough chess
player to see what the consequences of various actions are and to see how
things will play out ten moves down the line.
I am good at that, mamash good.
Yes, that word has officially entered my vocabulary, and it will stay
there as long as the person who taught me that word remains in my life, which I
hope to be for a mamash long time.
The
thing about my brother and his fiancée is that they are both crazy, but they
are crazy in a complementary. Neither of
them are capable of making any kind of decision in any kind of time frame, but
they support each other in their indecisiveness, willing to explore every
single angle of every decision that they may want to make. It is impossible to travel with them, not the
way I travel. I suppose that a beach
vacation would be doable with them, or a hiking trip, but any trip where you
travel from place to place is next to impossible. With Stuart, it’s similar, but I can get him
to agree to do whatever I want, as long as he gets to do his few things. It’s choosing the restaurants and cars and
hotels and flights that are impossible with him. I can get Stuart to keep to a schedule, but
trying to get my brother and his fiancée to do is impossible. Even when I plan 2-3 extra hours into the day
for them, it inevitably goes wrong. I plan
things on a very tight schedule, allowing no leeway, when I travel alone, but I
usually know that I need an hour buffer at the end of the day. Sometimes I need that hour, sometimes I don’t
and can use it for lunch or extra activity time. Unless something goes seriously wrong out of
my control (CBSA, traffic, etc.), that hour is always enough time. With them, the pace is planned slower to
begin with, and the extra 2-3 hours on top of it never seems to be enough.
Why do I bring all of this up? It’s not because I am saying that they are bad
people or anything. It is simply
something that bothers the hell out of me, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t have to live them. They have to live with each other, and it
works for them. That’s what
matters. I have gotten off track. My battery is about to die, so I only have 10
minutes to try and recount Day 0. I
spent most of yesterday at a very important business meeting, the kind that I
knew was vital to the future of my career to attend, so I made sure that I would
be there. I was. This summer, I was watching “The Network,”
and there was a line where Robert Duvall said something to the effect of “Let’s
meet back here at 10 PM. Is that
convenient for everyone?” and walked away without waiting for a response. That is the kind of project on which I would
love to work. The only time I would ever
have to work around the clock is because either a) I am overwhelmed by the
amount of work or b) I put something off to the last minute. We don’t have crises like that in our
job.
Our client had to work around the
clock on this project, but we didn’t. I
had to be in at 7:30 AM to help finalize our report from the walkthrough
yesterday, but, when all was said and done, from 7:30 AM yesterday to 10 AM
today, I only put in 8 hours on that project.
My battery is almost dead, so I will close up. After I sent out the final report to the
client, an hour before the deadline, I had to run out to do another inspection,
so I stopped at Papaya Dog along the way, which was en route. They said that they weren’t open yet, but I
convinced them to sell me a couple of hot dogs.
They really do have the best hot dogs in the city, even if they are
small. After the inspection, I had my
pre-departure lunch at Hop Won: boneless spare ribs and sweet and sour
chicken. I then stopped at the cigar
store for my last lunchtime cigar, a Montecristo, since my coworker who
complains when I smoke during lunch will be back in the office on Monday.
I left work at 5 PM, and Jimmy gave me a
Quesada Oktoberfest, which felt awkward smoking in August. My pickup was supposed to be at 6:15 PM, so I
spent the time at the shop talking about the single most appropriate thing for
guys to discuss while smoking cigars.
There were like 10 customers there, and at least 3 conversations going
on, so it was easy to walk around getting involved in different conversations
and asking advice from all of my friends.
There are so many people with so many different views on life and love
that you can get almost any possible answer you want to any question you might
ask. I took all the advice in stride,
mediated by my own judgment. At 6:15 PM,
the car was not there. I called at 6:25
PM. When they asked for my confirmation
number, I said that I didn’t get a confirmation email. I heard someone say in shop, “You didn’t
think that would be apro
I guess that I should have checked between the seat for an outlet
BEFORE I let the battery die. Anyway,
the guy standing behind me in the shop said in reference to me not getting the
confirmation email, “You didn’t think that that would be a problem?” Fortunately, there was a taxi right outside
the shop, so I said some quick goodbyes and grabbed the taxi. When I got to the airport, I printed my
boarding pass (1A) and went in line at security. I had plenty of time, but that didn’t stop me
from exercising all of my proper efficiency practices. The TSA officer seemed to be a rookie, or
maybe she thought I was a rookie. The
conversation went something like this: “Do you have a laptop in that bag?” “I had a laptop in the bag, now it’s in the
tray.” “Everything out of your pockets?” “Pockets are in there (pointing to my jacket in
the tray).” “Papers in your hand?” That was too much. Clearly she should have seen me holding the
papers in my hands.
Anyway, I headed to
the gate, took an unofficial U, and sat down to write the first entry. I almost got on the flight to San Juan,
continued with the second part of the first entry, and then got on the
flight. I love sitting in seat 1A. It’s the window seat, so no one bothers
you. There is enough legroom, so you can
get out without bothering the person in 1B.
It has the bulkhead, so you can get your feet up. It’s on the left side, which I prefer. It’s really just the best seat on the plane,
not to mention all the whiskey you can drink.
This is my fourth whiskey, so I’m surprised I’m not mamash toasted at
this point. It usually only takes me
three to get mamash toasted. I suppose I
will no longer be using the phrase UAR.
Does MT work? Dinner was a
chicken, bacon, and cheese sandwich, along with chips, fruit, and a cookie, not
Atkins friendly. I ate the inside of the
sandwich, a few chips, some fruit, and half of the cookie. After dinner, I proceeded to write this
entry, which I will now close so that I can publish, take an unofficial U, and
get some sleep before I land in Portland.
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