Monday, March 25, 2013

A Failed Life Experiment

If you've known me for a little bit, you know how lonely I can get sometimes.  I've been without a girlfriend for quite a while and I don't really socialize all that much.  For this reason, I decided a while back to implement an experiment.  For every weekend that I don't have something planned (going out on a date or going out with my friends), I would have to sit at home alone and force myself to watch a romantic comedy.  At first, I thought Yes!  This will motivate me more to go out and socialize and meet new people!  I was wrong.  My experiment backfired.

I now look forward to the nights on the weekends that I have nothing going on.  Why?  Because I get to forget about how crappy life is sometimes for average people.  I get to sit on my couch with a bag of popcorn and watch life happen for someone who deserves it.  For instance, the first time I decided to implement this rule, I watched the movie Sixteen Candles.  Side note: John Hughes must have been put in the friend zone like a million times in order to keep coming up with these stories.  So... Sixteen Candles: A struggles to get through the day on her 16th birthday, which her entire family has forgotten about because her older sister is getting married the next day. She is also plagued by infatuation with a popular and attractive boy at school.  Sounds like a total snooze-fest right?  Except you start to realize that she is similar to every other girl out there and it makes you think about how applicable everything in these movies are.  Although, I'll probably never get that cute, popular boy to ever go to the dance with me.  Not that I want to, but... you know what I mean.




It's the same every weekend, though.  It makes you forget about how stupid life is by watching how stupid life is.  I am excited about leaving for basic training, though.  Because now I don't have to justify my reasons for watching romantic comedies and not going out to "hook up with biddies."  I can just do what I'm supposed to do down there in the Georgia heat.

If you don't feel like watching a million rom-coms, you can bypass them all and just watch Not Another Teen Movie.  It's got every stereotype and combines the plots to all of the big movies out there (especially brat pack films).  And if you don't feel like going "full sad sap" you can always just pick Weird Science out and watch that instead.  Still, at its core, about some socially awkward kids trying to transition to socially awesome.  I still think the movie is applicable.  Everyone finds love in a John Hughes movie, except for the bullies.  ...And maybe Cameron Frye.  Poor Cameron.



For good measure, here's a song that appears to be in every single rom-com from the 90s:

Sunday, March 24, 2013

A Job I Can Take Pride In

This past Friday, I took my final trip to MEPS in Springfield, Massachusetts to put the finishing touches on my contract and I took the oath to swear into the Connecticut National Guard.  This process took me a few months to complete due to my MOS (Military Occupational Specialty).  After taking the ASVAB test, filling out a long and tedious National Security questionnaire, being violated during a very thorough physical examination, writing a 4 page autobiography, and passing a final OCS review board, I have finally signed my papers guaranteeing me a spot in the Connecticut National Guard Officer Candidate School.



I leave for basic training in Fort Benning, Georgia in early April, so do not be surprised or discouraged if this ends up being my final blog post for a while.  It's kind of weird, but I'm actually excited about leaving the civilian world behind and seeing what army life has to offer.  It's hard to believe that in the fall of next year, I will (hopefully) be a commissioned second lieutenant.

It wasn't an easy step for me to take.  It took months of planning for me to get this far.  I graduated from Gettysburg College in May of 2012 and had been getting frustrated with the unemployment scene.  My cousin who didn't even go to college left for his basic training in August of the same year and came back from Missouri with a different sense of self about him.  It was refreshing to see this.  I thought that maybe the army could do the same thing for me, so I decided that I'd like to talk to someone about the kind of opportunities the National Guard had to offer.  My cousin gave me the business card of his recruiter and so the process began.

Contrary to what most people hear about, my recruiter didn't lie about anything and put everything right out on the table.  It was nice to be able to ask him about anything from life in the Guard to what kind of shoes they make you wear at basic.  After spending two and a half hours at the recruiting office with my notebook full of questions, I knew that joining would be the right fit for me.

I made three trips up to the MEPS in Springfield.  Each time I waited for a long time for something.  The first time I went up, it was to take the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery.  This is a test that measures ones aptitude in 10 different areas ranging from math to verbal to mechanical to electrical knowledge.  I waited after my test for a good 45 minutes for my recruiter to pick me up.  I finished the test in an hour and a half when it takes most people two to two and a half hours.  I was a little worried about that, but I scored really high and was able to qualify for what I wanted to do.

On the second trip up to MEPS, I stayed overnight in the Sheraton and had a great meal and went to bed at 9:30 p.m.  The next morning, I awoke at 4:30 and we were at the processing station by 6.  I felt thoroughly violated by 11.  I came out of my physical with a clean bill of health and was approved for service.  The whole ordeal ended at 1 p.m. for me and my recruiter said it's the longest he's ever had to wait for anyone to be done with a physical.  Crap happens when your the last one to be given your chart.

I stayed at the hotel again that final time I was sent up to MEPS.  Same deal... bed early, up early, sworn in at 11.  I enlisted as an E-4 (Specialist), and am already a higher rank than my cousin.  But he's been through Basic already, so it's all technical.

I am excited to finally have a job that I can take pride in and a position that my country can take pride in me having.  I leave for basic combat training soon and can't wait to come back a stronger, more dependable, and more capable man.


Sunday, March 17, 2013

Americana Music Lifestyle

A while ago, my friend Ryan gave me some music files of a Daytrotter session from Josh Ritter.  I only listened to one song and then Josh Ritter got lost in the rest of my massive iTunes library.  Until I decided to get a free album download from NoiseTrade.  The website offered a free live album (22 tracks) from this artist, and I've been listening to it all morning.  As I usually do when I start to like an artist, I decided I'd check out Josh Ritter's wikipedia page.  I found some interesting facts about him.  He studied at Oberlin College in Ohio.  While that may not be super significant, I thought his course of study was particularly interesting.  He originally went to Oberlin to study neuroscience, but ended up creating his own major... "American History Through Narrative Folk Music."  Those who know of the artist know that his songwriting style is narrative based.  I would do almost anything to have a course of study similar to that, and actually have it mean something to my occupation.


I have a soft spot for Americana music.  It's just a great way of feeling close to America's musical roots.  Don't get me wrong... it's nice to hear classical music and British Invasion type stuff every now and then.  But there is nothing like listening to songs dealing with traveling the open road, small town life, and leaving something or someone behind.  It's just very relatable for someone who grew up the way I did.  I live in a suburb and constantly travel my family's cabin in the middle of nowhere.  I love being on the road.  And I constantly feel like I'm leaving something behind.  The genre as a whole is almost like a metaphor for growing up and heading out on one's own.

I love driving, especially when I'm the only one in the car.  It's not that I don't enjoy company when I drive.  I do.  But driving somewhere on my own gives me time to think.  While many people agree that if you leave me alone with my thoughts, it can get kind of weird and sometimes dangerous, driving has always given me some of the best ideas and inspiration for certain events in my life.  I've gone to Bonnaroo Music Festival twice by myself.  From Watertown, CT to Manchester, TN is about a 16 hour drive.  It was awesome.  Nothing, but me, my iPod, my car and the open road.  The Band and Bruce Springsteen are always on my playlist for rides as long as that.

Americana music, in addition to facilitating my long drives, always accompany me up to the cabin on the little trips I take.  I'm starting to realize that I do a lot of things by myself.  It's not that I am a loner.  I just guess there are lots of times when I prefer to be by myself.  Unless it is hunting season or my dad doesn't have anything else better to do, I usually head up to the cabin on my own.  It's in the area where Music from Big Pink was recorded, so Americana definitely makes me think of the forests and town life in upstate New York.



I just feel a deep connection to that type of music, because it's almost like a soundtrack to my favorite things.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Leibster Blog Award



I would like to thank my peers for nominating me for this.  I was given two sets of questions by two different people: Karl's blog (Post-College Musings) and Xavier's blog (Working Title).  Both are excellent and worth checking out.  I will only do one set of 11 things about myself and will do both sets of questions.

11 Facts About Me:
- I used to work at a radio station in New York City
- My favorite food id my grandmother's chicken parmigiana
- I always have and still want a race car bed for my room
- No women are allowed at my family's hunting cabin during hunting season (Boy's Club)
- I almost transferred out of Gettysburg College in between my junior and senior years
- The face masks on batting helmets used for the Water-Oak Little League are named after me (Marzella Masks)
- I wear size 10.5 shoes
- I once bent the same wheel on my bicycle twice in one week
- I once drank Coke mixed with Tabasco sauce for $5
- I was the best man at my uncle's wedding and I lost his new wife's ring in the lining of my tuxedo
- I find football and baseball boring unless I'm actually at the game

Karl's Questions (Because he asked first, Xavier.  Sorry):

1. What artist/band has affected your life the most?
I would have to say The Who.  Simply because they were my first rock concert and I was obsessed with them for years.  I own every album they've ever released and still buy bootlegs of them all the time.

2. What is your dream job?
Easy.  I'd love to be a writer/performer on Saturday Night Live.  My second choice would be to write for Rolling Stone Magazine, and maybe restore it to its former glory.

3. What are two truths and a lie about you?
My favorite president is John F. Kennedy.  I wish my parents had signed me up for hockey as a kid.  I play the drums.

4. Why do you blog?
It's therapeutic for me.  I can write about my problems and triumphs.  I can write about what I'm passionate about.  It helps me deal with stress.

5. Until what age do you wanna live?
I just want to be old enough to see my grandchildren graduate college.  If I don't have grandchildren, just kill me when my health starts to deteriorate.

6. What does your dream home look like?
Two floors and a finished basement.  The basement would be divided in half.  One side would be my music studio and the other would be a den-type area.  I would have an office where I would keep all of my music memorabilia, as well as my records and sound equipment.  Those are the only two must haves in my dream home.  I'd let the wife take care of the rest.

7. What's your favorite sport and why?
Wrestling.  I wrestled in high school and miss it every day.

8. If you could visit one place for a day, what place would that be?London.  And I'd try to make the most of it.

9. What would you do if you had a million dollars?
Pay off my student loans, buy a 1969 Plymouth Road Runner, buy my dream house, and invest what was left.

10. What is your biggest weakness?
Kryptonite.

11. Why did the chicken cross the road?
To show the possum it could be done.


Xavier's Questions:
1. What was the first thing you thought about this morning?I hope my physical goes well.

2. How many times today did you look at your phone around company? Be honest
I wasn't allowed to have my phone on me for most of the day, so I'm going to say 4 times tops.

3. What did you do today that was of note?
I took my military physical and got my fingerprints scanned.

4.What were you up to this weekend? Where was my invite?
I went with my dad and sister on Saturday to the mall.  I didn't think you'd want to come.

5. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?
252 licks according to Purdue University

6. Who are your biggest role models? Fictional or real?
My uncle Gene is a pretty big role model for me.  He has everything that I want in life: a great family, an nice house, a good job, and a great sense of humor.

7. If a tree falls and no one’s around to hear it, does it contribute to deforestation?
Yes.

8. (Stealing this from Karl) What’s your biggest weakness?
Same answer: Kryptonite.

9. What’s your deepest darkest secret that you’d never post online?
I have an ugly scar on my butt from a cyst removal.

10. Proudest moment?
When I won a third place trophy at the New Milford wrestling tournament.

11. Weirdest habit?
I talk too much.  That's a habit, right?


I'm also supposed to include 11 questions of my own for anyone reading this...
- Who's your favorite writer?
- What's your favorite movie and why?
- If you had two weeks to live, how would you spend them?
- Outie or Innie?
- Cake or Pie?
- Who's the one person that means the most to you?  If you can't pick just one, pick a few.
- What's something you do to cope with sadness?
- What's something you do when you're feeling happy?
- Where do/did you go to school and why did you pick there?  If you didn't go to school, why not?
- If you were offered a million dollars to kill someone, and it was guaranteed that no one but you would ever know, would you do it?
- It's 2013.  Where are the hoverboards?

I don't know any blogs other than those mentioned, so I'm sorry I can't contribute to that one.  But if you happen to come across this, please respond to the questions I posted.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Incriminating Tales of College Life, Part One

To my parents and children (if they should ever find this blog): I never did anything stupid in college and you should regard this post as fiction.

My First Beer
The story of my first beer isn't a very good one.  I wrestled in high school, and at the end of my rookie season, one of our captains had us over his parents' house for a wrestling "sleepover."  I had a Busch.  It tasted bad and I nursed it all night.  I didn't even get a buzz.



My First College Beer
Again, not a very good story.  Some friends from my dorm's floor and I decided to go to a party at Alpha Chi Rho one weekend and I had a few beers.  They were Natty Light from a keg.  Awful beer.  Again, I didn't get drunk and it was a boring night.

I was quite the lightweight until my 21st birthday.  I always pretended that I could drink more than I could, though.  Freshman year, I didn't drink all that much, except when we went out to fraternities on the weekend.  I never went out all that much, though.  Aside from the story about my first college beer, I'm pretty sure there won't be any stories from my freshman year.

Cops... Cops Everywhere
During what was supposed to be my junior year, I lived in a theme house on campus, and my buddy Ryan (who played guitar in my band) lived in one of the refurbished motels owned by the college.  One  night, we decided to hang out at his place.  So, I went over and was introduced to the mighty elixir known as bourbon.  He had a handle of Ezra Brooks on his dresser and we kept taking shots while goofing around on his guitars with the USA Network playing on the TV in the background.  The shot glass he used for me was easily like one and a half to two shots instead of a regular sized glass.  I must've had 6 shots in the first hour I was there.  We didn't go out to fraternities and preferred to hang out.  After a while of this, his roommate Rich comes back to the room, drunk off his ass from a party at the fraternity he was rushing, and I'm giddy as fuck rocking back and forth on the desk chair.  The two of us were hungry and Ryan says to us "I'm a much better driver when I'm drunk anyways."  Naturally, Rich and I believed him and we piled into Rich's car and Ryan drove us the few blocks to 7-11.  "Oh shit," I hear escape Ryan's mouth.  I looked out the windows and there were about 5 cop cars parked right in the parking lot of the 7-11.  Nothing bad happened, but it was funny to us that the one time we had Ryan drive us somewhere drunk is the time when we were all clearly drunk and the cops are everywhere.



Dehydration and Whiplash
I have a history of dehydration.  It all comes down to me not drinking enough water.  My mom has even had to call the ambulance after I've fainted from the condition.  Loving alcohol doesn't help the situation.  Alcohol dries you out.  In the spring semester of 2011, I was 21 and was able to purchase alcohol.  Having friends who go to a big party school, I get recipes that sound amazing.  The drink I'm talking about here I have retired and thrown away the recipe.  Red Scare (originally concocted by my friend Greg).  The recipe called for grain alcohol, which you could not purchase in the state of Pennsylvania by law.  But I bought some.  And I mixed that with red Monster energy drink and red sports drink.  You think the old recipe for Four Loko could knock you on your ass?  This is the only drink that has ever given me whiplash.  I broke out the Red Scare for Springfest (four days of nothing but drinking) that year.  It was all I drank.  Well... I also had some Jameson.  But it was the Red Scare that did me in.  On Sunday, since I didn't pace myself at all with my drinking or drink any water in between drinks, I found myself incredibly dehydrated.  I woke up nauseous and rushed to the men's room across the hall from my dorm room only to have the dry heaves.  Nothing was coming up.  Unfortunately, I heaved so much that I passed out and hit my shoulders on the window sill and snapped my neck back giving me the worst case of whiplash I had ever felt.  It lasted for the rest of the school year (about two or three weeks).

I Will Always Love You
Remember how I mentioned Jameson earlier?  Well, if you know me, you know that Jameson is my favorite hard alcohol.  Irish whiskey at its finest.  I had bought a brand new fifth of Jameson at the beginning of my final semester at Gettysburg.  After going to see The Woman in Black (February 2012) with some friends, we went back to their dorm (the only dry one aside from freshman dorms, actually) and I decided to have a little Jameson.  Apparently, a "little" turned into the whole bottle.  I blacked out and woke up in Gettysburg hospital to the sound of my cell phone.  My dad was calling me.  The college had apparently contacted him that morning to tell him that I went to the hospital with a .38 BAC.  I picked up the phone and the first thing my father said to me was "I heard you took Whitney Houston's death pretty hard, huh?"  It made me drunkenly crack a smile.  I say "drunkenly" because I was still drunk all day that day and hungover all day the next.  Did I get in trouble?  Not with my parents, but I got slapped with a Public Intoxication charge ($300 fine) and the college made me go home for a weekend.  Which I spent going to a UConn basketball game and out to a bar with my buddy Greg.  From what I was told, though, after I blacked out, I seemed fine enough to head back to my room across campus.  Only I didn't make it very far and passed out on the stoop of a different campus housing complex.  A student hit my head with the door as he attempted to exit the building and found me outside in the below freezing weather.  I just want to say... .38 BAC is very high and I could have died.  Did I learn my lesson?  Hell yes.  Do I still drink Jameson?  You betcha.



This seems like a good start to my College Confessions series.  They may not be funny stories, but they mean something to me.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Evolution of a Genre Specific to the White Man

I'm going to touch on a sensitive subject here, but just for a moment.  That subject is race.  The white man is a dirty dirty thief.  And I would know.  I've been white my entire life.  When we first came to this country, we pushed the Native Americans back and stole their land, forcing them to live on reservations.  We stole the Native Americans' farming techniques of using dead fish as fertilizer for corn crops.  As far back as time allows us to recall, the white man has done some dirty things to people of different races.  We even stole music.  You guys know a guy named Elvis Presley?  The only reason he was ever recorded was because he brought black music to a white audience.  He would listen to blues artists and mimic them in his bedroom mirror.  The song "That's All Right, Mama" was originally an Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup tune.  Rock and roll music stole from blues and jazz musicians, both genres dominated by black artists.  Even now, rock and roll still relies on those basic principles at its roots.

When it comes to sports, my African-American chums have always been better than me, would it be running, football, or basketball.  My friend Rich would constantly poke fun at this fact responding with, "At least you white guys have hockey."  This is true.  I don't think I've ever seen a black hockey player.  That doesn't mean they don't exist.  They're just like the narwhals of athletes.  We can also apply this concept to music as well, though.  White guys have country music.  The only black country singer I can think of off the top of my head is Darius Rucker.


Country music isn't what it used to be.  Sure, it still reaches out to the same demographic (white, southern folks occasionally living in trailer parks who love hearing songs about a truck, a dog, or a woman), but the sound has changed so much over the years.

My family owns a small piece of property in central New York for hunting, and I go up there quite a bit (sometimes to hunt and other times to just get away).  It's actually pretty rural up there if you can believe it, so country music is pretty popular.  People there even have a certain backwoods bumpkin accent (which part of my "accent" comes from).  On my drives up to the hunting cabin, I usually play some music in the car.  This music ranges from southern rock to classic country to bluegrass.  Tonight, just listening to Willie Nelson made me wish I was up in New York, sitting by a crackling fire with a glass of whiskey in my hand, and the sweet sound of no cell reception to calm my nerves.

Listening also got me thinking.  Has anyone ever noticed how much of a difference there is between country music of the 60s and 70s and the country music of today?  For instance, it's really hard to compare Johnny Cash to Luke Bryan.  It's like comparing apples to oranges.  They're just too different. How did we get from a three/four piece band to artists like Brad Paisley that take seven people on the road with them?

The most basic form of country music is probably bluegrass.  It's also the most consistent for of country music.  Look at Old Crow Medicine Show for example.  They have a fiddle, double bass, acoustic guitar, and banjo.  The format and sound of bluegrass hasn't changed since it started.  In my opinion, this is what country music should sound like.



The genre has pulled itself away from its roots in this and its roots in gospel music.  There is a fine line between southern rock of the 1970s and the country music of today.  It's hard to me to distinguish one from the other.  If I was listening to two analog recordings with the same production value (one a southern rock song from the 1970s and the other a country song from today), I would not be able to tell you which was from which era.  I feel like today's country music has lost touch with its roots.

Now, I'm not trying to say it's bad.  Hell, I love a good Toby Keith song!  I'm just saying that, much like everything else, the sound has evolved with the time.  Each new thing takes a few ideas from the preceding era with it, until the product barely resembles the original.  For instance, take a look at hip hop music.  If you listen to a Jay-Z song back to back with the Sugarhill Gang, there's not much the two have in common.  Sound has evolved.

Willie Nelson is a good example of how the sound of country has evolved.  In 1975, he released an amazing album called Red Headed Stranger.  This was a straight up country album.  The idea was original, the sound was unique, and the production was amazing.  Once music moved into the 1980s, and we had the rising popularity of the synthesizer and new over-the-top production techniques, country moved almost as downhill as rock music did (hair metal or new wave, anyone?).  Nelson's Always On My Mind is a good example of how downhill it had become.  The album seemed too poppy to be called country.  Aside from the title track and maybe one or two other songs, it wan't that good of an album.  The early 90s didn't bring much better production or good songs (I mean... Billy Ray Cyrus and "Achy Breaky Heart" happened.  Need I say more?).  But in the mid to late 90s, production and writing came back to where it should have been all along, and we got the current sound that is played on country stations everywhere.  I'm going to cite "Beer for My Horses," a duet between Toby Keith and Willie Nelson as an example of genius in current country.

I understand that things change and evolve, but I wanted to share my exploration and insight of the progressing sound of country music (almost the whitest music there is).

Side note: Aside from Eminem, I haven't seen a good white hip hop artist.  Personally, I think it is because of the same reason there aren't too many white blues artists.  What do white people have to be blue about?  As Chris Rock once said, "Smile!  You're white."

P.S.
I didn't even want to touch on the evolution of country rock.  That went from straight up country music to bar band music.  That's for another post another day.  Here's what I mean by bar music...


Wednesday, March 6, 2013

...And I Wouldn't Change Anything About It

I have often said that I went to the wrong school.  Gettysburg College definitely wasn't the right fit for me.  In high school, I had tunnel vision about what I thought I wanted and I went with it.  The Civil War was an intense interest for me as was the sport of wrestling, and Gettysburg College had both.  Bad things happen when you don't focus on the complete picture.  You lose sight of the things that actually matter to your personality when it comes to school.  Sure Gettysburg had a Civil War Era Studies minor.  In fact, I'm pretty sure it's the only school that offers one.  The college even had a wrestling team that I was part of for two whole weeks.  Academically, it wasn't the right fit for me, though, and I didn't learn that until too late.



In my first semester at the school I had a 1.83 GPA. I thought I wanted to be a Chemistry major.  Boy, was I wrong.  I did alright in high school chemistry, but it didn't prepare me at all for what we would be doing at the college level.  That class, single-handedly, ruined my college career.  It's hard for your GPA and self-esteen to come back from getting a D- in your first semester at college.  It also didn't help that my attempt to major in music didn't pan out either.  It's not that I didn't do well in my music class.  I did.  My professor accused me of plagiarism and my self-esteem took another body shot.  It's hard when a professor doesn't think that something like picking my own topic for my final project could inspire we to write at great length and detail on my own.  Luckily, I found a new interest that semester: Political Science.

That interest lasted me up until my final semester of what should have been my junior year.  I was forced to take a class that I didn't want to, because there was nothing else to take.  I ended up suffering from a severe depression that caused me to withdraw from 2 classes and flunk one other.  This may have been partially due to my lack of motivation that year.  I had no desire to be at school and was considering the option of dropping out.  I was in love with the pay I received from my manual labor job over the summer.  I loved the work I did and was proud of it, which wasn't something I could really say about Gettysburg.

Everyone out there who has left their entire world far away knows how hard it can be to adjust to the new world they encounter.  It was definitely hard for me to adjust to life at Gettysburg.  No one from my high school decided to attend there with me, my family (with whom I am really close) were all at least 5 hours away, my dog that I had gotten for my 6th birthday died just a few weeks into the semester, and I had only a handful of friends.  I really missed everything about Connecticut.  Most of my close friends attended the University of Connecticut, which I had thoroughly dismissed as an option of a college education.  One thing I learned quickly about college is that drinking was a good time, but only if you had the right people to do it with and the right setting to do it in.  Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until the first time I decided to visit my friends up at UConn.



It was Easter weekend my sophomore year at Gettysburg, and I was feeling utterly homesick.  My friend Greg and I decided that since I got some time off for Easter, I would visit him up at UConn on Holy Thursday and bring him home to Naugatuck on Good Friday for the weekend.  I got up there some time in the evening after borrowing my grandmother's Subaru for the weekend.  This was my first encounter with UConn culture and the dorm lifestyle they had there, which was actually quite different than what I was used to in Pennsylvania.  The first new person I met was Greg's roommate Steve, who I didn't really see much of that night because it ended up with me sleeping in a chair, covered in my own puke.  I also met Brett, who convinced me to eat dinner with them because he was so excited it was "Baseball Night" at the dining hall.  Corn dogs, chicken fingers, hot dogs, anything associated with what you might buy at a baseball game to eat.  Who could have said no to that?

It was a very different culture that what it was at Gettysburg.  At UConn, all of your friends lived nearby.  This is not so at Gettysburg, especially after all of your friends get bids into fraternities and are spread out all over campus.  There's no way to hang out as much.  Not at UConn.  It seemed like any time you wanted to chill or do work with someone, they were right around the corner or across the hall.  My friend Joe lived right across the hall from Greg, and even came and hung out and drank with us.  Drinking was more done with friends at UConn, instead of going out and being rejected at the door of some fraternity, drinking at the first place that let you in, standing off to the side while the brothers danced with the only girls there.  It was awful.

It was just nice to experience something different when I visited my friends.  Even though the night ended up in black out and embarrassment for me (I got an honorary "Trainwreck of the Week award that night), I was still invited to come back and visit.  Good Guy Greg.


After the year of class withdraws I decided to take a semester off and reassess what I wanted to do with my career and life.  That summer, I interned at a radio station and rekindled my love for music and broadcast.  I really wanted to do that as a career and make that my major.  I had lost interest in politics and radio had kept my interest for years.  I had been involved in the station on campus since my freshman year and was even on the exec board for it.  Because of this, I decided that I might want to transfer to a school that had a communications program.  Gettysburg didn't offer communications as an area of study.  Naturally, I gravitated toward UConn as where I wanted to spend the rest of my college days, but my GPA wasn't high enough to get in.  I tried other schools, as well.  Ultimately, I ended up returning to Gettysburg with my tail between my legs.

I was considered a weekend warrior by one of my UConn friends during that semester off.  I spent it working for my uncle doing hardwood floors, but on the weekends, I would take my Honda Civic and drive up to Storrs and go to all of the home football games.  It seemed as if I was up there every weekend just to hang out.  It was the most connected I had ever felt to a university, and I didn't even go there.

I went back to Gettysburg, but my first semester back had left me feeling as if the few friends I had there had forgotten my existence and was left to do things on my own.  I even drove the seven hours up the east coast to visit my friends just because I felt Gettysburg had nothing to offer me.  On weekends where I didn't do that, I would go visit my uncle Gene down in Virginia.  Just a 2 hour drive.  It was hard for me to deal with a school that I cared nothing about.  I did extremely well in my classes that semester, but I think it was mostly due to my friends at UConn and my uncle.  I was finally responsibly enjoying my time at school and getting my work done.  It was also that semester that I discovered the wonder that was my Writing minor.  It helped relieve a lot of the stress I had about going back to school in a creative outlet.  I loved it.  Perhaps it was that connection to the college that improved my morale there.

Spring Break for Gettysburg and UConn usually coincided, but not that year.  I was pretty upset about that.  The whole week, though, I was glued to my internet and TV because of the Big East basketball tournament.  The UConn Men's team kept winning.  My Honda died in the Gettysburg College parking lot, so I ended up taking a train home that Friday.  Session seven of the tournament was that night and I knew Steve (with whom I have become friends since the fateful night of the puke) and Greg were going to be in New York City.  The train went from Harrisburg to New York City, and I waited in Penn Station for them.  For whatever reason, they convinced me to buy a ticket to that night's game and we ended up in attendance.  A win that night guaranteed them to play in the championships.  So Greg and Steve again convinced me to buy a ticket for the next night, when UConn made HI5TORY.  This was an incredible win streak that ended up in a NCAA Championship.


This was a big deal that I would never experience going to a Division III school.  Or so I thought.

Because I took time off from Gettysburg, I was a year behind all of the friends with which I had entered college.  This worried me because I needed to find some new friends and something to occupy my time.  I found rugby.  Fraternities are huge on the Gettysburg College campus.  About 90% of upperclassmen are involved in Greek Life.  I was never in one, but I did join the fraternal order of the rugby player.  These guys would be some of the best guys that I would ever know.  Both on and off the field.  I quickly made new friends some of whom I still see on a regular basis.  One of the Gettysburg captains and I play for the same rugby team back up here in Connecticut.



Big Don, as we affectionately called him because of his height and muscularness, and I became solid friends and were constantly hanging out on the weekends at his fraternity house (shout out to my friends at Phi Kappa Psi).  He became one of my best friends and was one of the main reasons why my senior year at Gettysburg was possibly my most socially successful.  I had great friends to hang out with all the time.

Quick digression: Don broke his ankle early in the spring semester, so he couldn't play rugby, but we still hung out all the time.  We would watch movies a lot.  I remember when Don, Allan and his abs, and I watched this movie Rubber one night and it was ridiculous.  I really should include some of our shenanigans in another blog post.

Everything that happened during my final year at Gettysburg made all the crap I dealt with up until that point... well... It made everything worth it.  While I may have said that I picked the wrong school, I'm kind of glad I did.  I would never had met some of my best friends.  I would never have played a sport that I have grown to love so much.  And I would have never experienced what it was like to feel pride in work that I actually cared about.

Top Row: Brad, Don, Karl
Wrestlers: Me (white), Tim (pink)

Friday, March 1, 2013

How Long Can a Band Stay Your Favorite?

For years, my favorite band was The Who.  I have every book written about the band, every album (including Keith Moon's crappy solo album), every concert DVD released, everything pertaining to them.  After a brief stint of having terrible taste in music (I blame society for imposing pop groups and boy bands on impressionable young minds), my uncle Fred introduced me to the Kinks and the Who.  I remember taping the CDs so I could listen to them on my Walkman.  I don't think I really fell in love with those blokes from Shepherd's Bush until I saw the band perform live.

It was the summer of 2000.  Entwistle was still alive.  Ringo's son, Zak, on the drum kit.  My first rock concert.  It was just an amazing experience all around.  Madison Square Garden.  The Wallflowers opened the show.  Just... the whole experience was nothing less than magical.



The Who remained my favorite band for about 13 years.  Of course, I listened to other bands.  In an attempt to find a common bond with my other uncle Frank, I started listening to Steely Dan.  Don't get me wrong, Steely Dan is great.  But I actually had to force myself to listen to them at first.  They really are an acquired taste.

Uncle Frank actually got me started on Bob Dylan.  It wasn't until high school that I actually heard Bob Dylan.  I feel like that's weird.  His songs were never really played on the radio station that my parents listened to.  Not to mention, the first album of Dylan's that I actually bought/listened to was Nashville Skyline.  When someone mentions Dylan, most people think Blood on the Tracks or Highway 61 Revisited.  Nope.  Not me.  I bought Nashville Skyline for 12.99 at Costco.  That was my first Dylan album.


When you start listening to Bob Dylan, though, there's another group that's hard to avoid mentioning.  The Band.  Four Canadians and an Arkansan playing some of the best Americana rock and roll one would ever hear.  I bought Music from Big Pink and the brown album when I was in high school as well.  One day in college, I thought to myself "I should finish my collection of albums by The Band."  And I went on Amazon and bought all the rest of their studio albums (I'm regret the purchase of Islands, though.  Yikes!).

As my tastes changed, I started developing an intense liking for the harmonies, the piano, and a certain kind of guitar work.  The Band had 3 lead singers, which is a concept that's unheard of in rock and roll.  Sure, everyone in the Who sang a song every now and then, but most of the time, they left that job to Roger Daltrey.  The Band, however, had three lead singers.  And when they combined their voices, they made some sweet sweet harmony.  The piano in the songs is subtle enough to not take away from the song, but powerful enough to hear as a separate part in each song.  Not only that, but The Band had a piano AND organ playing at the same time, making the sound even more unique.  And the guitar work.  Robbie Robertson's guitar work was so simplistic, it made me feel like I could play anything.


It's things like these that helped me make the change from the hard rock of The Who to the softer side of rock and roll.  It helped me get in touch with my inner backwoods bumpkin.  I mean... my family does own a hunting cabin not too far from Saugerties, NY (where Dylan and The Band wrote a lot of their material).  It's weird, though, because I feel like I can relate to most of the songs a little bit better than I can relate to songs performed by a working class band from England.  Give me a song about an old man telling stories from a rocking chair instead of a song about hoping I die before I get old.  Only one of those ideas makes complete sense to me.