Mistakes

I hate making mistakes at work.
What I hate even more is the feeling that I have to somehow prove to my boss that I'm not going to mess up in the future, as if justifying my place in the workforce.
I need to get over myself.

Klutz

In the past twelve hours I have slammed my shoulder into a door knob and cracked my big toe nail on a cabinet.
I am such a winner.

The Menzingers

Full disclosure: I love this band.
My first encounter with the Menzingers was during 2006 or 2007- my first year in grad school. I was in a bad place- new city, few friends, just been dumped, and my supervisor and I did not get along very well. Combine this with the fact that I did not have a car, getting away from where I worked/lived/educated myself was a daunting proposition.
I did the best I could- I probably could have done better. One of my escapes at work, however, was the computer, where I would play various internet radio stations to carry me away from the shit that was my day. One such station was punkradiocast- a Canadian station that played a good (if repetitive) mix of songs and exposed me to a ton of artists (including the Copyrights and American Steel). One day, a song I later discovered to be "Sir, Yes Sir" came on and I was hooked, instantly. Only I had no clue what the name of the song or artist was, listening through Windows Media Player as I had to at work. I would go home every night, searching the depths of Google for any hint to the lyrics I remembered. Eventually, after months of searching, one virus laden site had the name of the song, the band, and the album.
The Menzingers...A Lesson in the Abuse of Information Technology
I got my hands on the album some time later, and just devoured it whole. I loved every second that graced my ears. "A Lesson" leaves you winded, exhausted, and beat up- you have just come out of a Fight Club brawl with a smile on your bloodied face.
Over time I got involved in a message board that shared my love for the Mezingers. When their EP, "Hold on Dodge" came out, we all had a collective smile of pure joy. The same punchers attitude permeated the album, but in a far more mature way. When the single for the new album came out, we fawned over the acoustic tracks.
I have managed to see this band twice now, and both times, they absolutely blew me away. The first time, at a punk house in Bushwhick...words cannot describe. Within one song, both vocalist mics were broken and I was showered in beer. I was yelling, screaming, climbing over people singing along to every lyric. After, I shared whiskey with the vocalist, Greg.
I saw them again a few weeks later at a bar in Williamsburg. They went on first. There was not mashing of bodies against each other this time, not until my friend jumped on my back, nearly knocking me into the band. The set was just as energetic, peppered with tracks from their impending release.
Afterward, we shared pizza and beer with Greg during the second band (who were horrendous). I even managed to embarrass the vocalist at the end of the show, proclaiming my distaste for the second band...standing not one foot from her. Oops.
Yesterday, the Menzingers released "Chamberlain Waits" digitally. This album kicked my ass in a totally different way the "A Lesson." Rather than a brawl, this was an artistic beatdown from the likes of Jet Li. I was floored, and continue to be, listening to the album six times in 16 hours.
Catchy and passionate, this album does not disappoint. If you feel any disillusionment at all with the current state of things, do yourself a favor and pick up their discography, and yell along in cathartic bliss.

Every Thug Needs a Lady

I had a date this weekend. It was not a bad date, but my heart was not into the event. I was tired and upset- I had lost power the night before at a storm. Well, not me, but my apartment and place of work did, and I was looking at the prospect of living with my parents for a few days. So as I type this, I am sitting in a coffee shop a block and a half from my parents' in Brooklyn. I wish I could find a place like this in Westchester (although I could deal without the singing infants, but thankfully, I have headphones).
I saw Alkaline Trio on Friday, and while I really enjoyed seeing them, the show was just, well, pretty average. Do not get me wrong, I loved seeing this band finally- I have been listening to them for years, but the venue was nothing special. Also, with a band like Trio, with their ten albums worth of material, then they are no doubt not going to play everyone's favorite songs. They hit some of mine, but I really wished they had hit a few more. Oh well.
The low point of the evening was when this woman, obviously intoxicated, was flirting with me. I was not going to do anything untoward with her, but I would have liked to have gotten her number before her friend whisked her away. A yoga instructor. Who lived in Westchester. Who seemed impressed with my job.
Gotta move faster Alex, gotta move faster.
I did manage to see Cursive, finally, and damn, I do not know why I stopped listening to them. These guys kicked so much ass. Tim, the lead singer, just, well, gave himself over to the show, and it really looked like he left it all out there on stage. Good for him.
So back to the date on Sunday. A jDate, of course- although my first one in four months. She picked the place, and it was a nice lunch. Recovering from a cold and trying to figure out my plans for the next day in the back of my mind, my effort was misaligned. That being said, we did not click well. She was smart, valued education and helping people, and had great taste in movies and television shows. Oh, and she was absolutely beautiful.
So why did it not work?
Maybe because my mind was somewhere else, or maybe because we just did not have that spark. Perhaps it was because the date was on her home turf- someplace she was familiar with and comfortable, setting me on edge. It could be that I was just intimidated by her, which has been known to happen.
Is this dating? I do not know. I spent my teenage years without dating because I was an awkward and immature teenager. In college, no one really dated- people just got together. Now, I have to learn how to date while also trying to meet people. It certainly is an adventure, as my log of awkward dates continues to grow (and only a small percent are awkward because of something I do).
Makes me really wish I got that woman's number.

Victory Gin

My friend's wife murdered their daughter. There's no way around it- this is something that happened and has shaped the past two weeks of my life and will change everything going forward. I am putting it out there, not because I want to bring you down, but because it's something tragic that happened, that I was close to, that is affecting how I am feeling.

I have been making mistakes at work recently. I hate it, not because they are mistakes but because they are items I shouldn't be missing. I have no one to blame but myself, but I need to learn how to just accept them and move on. I love my job, I love my career, but I cannot let these things dominate my life.
My dad says, work to live, not live to work. I thought I was lucky, that I had found a place where my life and work could meld in a joyous way. While this has happened, I wouldn't call it joyous. The friend I mentioned, is also my coworker; his daughter a student.
Two of the people that reached out to me after the tragedy were Magic players. These are people who I share a game with, but reached out, not for advice on the game, but to console me. My life and work, they are inseparable, for now.
I feel, sometimes, that I never really get away. I live where I work- I have a phone that I carry with me all the time. I am constantly tethered to my desk. I finally got away, and went home for a few days and it was glorious.

I sat in traffic, anxious about missing the show. Drew told me I would have to get there early to make sure I got a spot in the loft. The commute had other ideas. Somehow, after the wrong turns and red lights (with a little help from Dad), I made it to the venue and promptly whiskey myself inside. I was person number seven.
The bands all kicked ass. The place was packed. I could not believe how much fun I had, and how I longed for such an event in Westchester. When one band laid into NoFX's "Linoleum" I launched myself into the pit, and barely left for the Menzingers set.
Let me tell you- I was a mess. Tank top and jeans, my Reeboks a dungy shade of gray from the bottoms of shoes and spilled beer. Coated in a layer of my sweat, a layer of sweat from everyone else, plus a fine mist of beer shower. The place was a whirling dervish of joy, and I long to feel that again.

I walked around my old haunt on Saturday, just happy to be able to walk around town. I went to a bar and had a delicious beer, and finally heard good music on the juke. The Ramones sang to me before the siren song of the Dillinger Four made me long to return. After a night out with my sister, I drove home on Sunday.

And now? Now I search everywhere nearby for something with character. I'm from Brooklyn, dammit, and everything here lacks soul. I want a coffee shop, not a Starbucks. I want to know that this bar plays Johnny Cash and that one plays the Ramones- I don't want them all to play Dave Matthews.
New York might be unique, but please, there must be people here that do not want the same old cookie cutter life, over and over.
I miss the city- I long for the smell of exhaust and the bustle of streets. I can't walk anywhere up here.

My life- it's not bad. I just miss my home town. Thankfully, it's only an hour away.

I hate making mistake. I'm a fucking perfectionist about certain things in life, like my job. I have made a bunch of mistakes recently- none that will get me canned or anything, but things that add up. Most are relatively minor and easily corrected- a few have been bigger, and more difficult to correct. I have gotten better at not taking these things personally, but still, I really despise fucking up.
For years, I have partially defined myself by what I do. In college, I was a student and a techie. For a brief time I was able to be a person, social, and get out there. Then I was a grad student and worker, and now I'm a professional. When I make a mistake, sometimes I feel like it cuts to the core. This also happens in my Magic writing, but I have gotten better about letting that stuff slide off my back.
I guess part of this stems from how fucking hard it is to define yourself in this day an age. Yes, identity is as fleeting as it is firm- you are only what you claim to be if you put forth the effort. I have a lot of experience trying to define myself for dating websites and job applications, but what do I say?
I'm Jewish?
I'm passionate?
I listen to punk rock?
I'm fucking awesome?
That's part of the reason I have this blog- to try and figure out what I am. I am a self proclaimed nerd, but even that doesn't say everything about me. In this world where we're all just trying to find a connection, I think we a re best defined by our roles in our relationships with others. This is one of the reasons why I miss living in Brooklyn- it was easy for me to go out and find the comfort zones of identity. Here, I have to brave new ground and do it all over again. It's fin, but tiring. After a day of work, I don't always have the energy to go out to the bar and be a social person. I made it out today and had a Heineken Light, at the behest and suggestion of my sister (a smart one).
Thursdays are not the best days at my local watering hole, especially to meet people.

Friday night was unremarkable. Like so many others, I was working, although this time my stomach was rather upset. I had to sneak off to the secret bathroom in the Castle a few times to make use of the hidden toilet-no lights in this place- like a scene from a bad Jason movie.
Anyway, it is a night like so many others- watching the clock, counting down the minutes until I get to go home.
And then my Junior year roommate walks in.
I had not spoken to this man in nearly five years- we parted on less than amicable terms. We were both arrogant kids at the time, only he had a girlfriend and would frequently fight with her loudly and with consequences. He once put his head into my wall, leaving a dent. I was no prince either, being rather loud about my distaste for him.
It was like the odd couple, only with two short people angry at each other.
So he's there, and we have the awkward hello. I can only imagine what's going through his head, since he's there as a guest of a first year student.
I don't see him the rest of the night, but find a facebook message from him today. None of this sits right with me. I mean, I am all for making amends, but that's not what irks me.
I think I'm jealous of the man.
I work at a place where the people I come into contact with the most, the students, are off limits socially (as they should be- I am not complaining about this at all). But not to him...someone my own age. He's free to date whomever he pleases. That rubs me the wrong way a little.
But at the same time, what scares me is I know the developmental cycle for most traditional aged college students, and, well, it feels just off. 25 and 18 does not seem like such a huge difference, but one person is just starting college, and the other has been out for nearly three years.
I dunno; maybe it's just jealously.