Not A Fan of Rollercoasters

Calling all captains: tomorrow night is going to be one for the ages. Grab your finest tie and your cheapest bottle of champagne; which hopefully wont end up in your best friends TV this year. It's New Years Eve and it's time to reminisce on behalf of 2009. Wear your most comfortable panties and ignore your texts from afar as you spend the last ticking second of the year with people of whom you care about most. Toast to those who couldn't make it, and pour some out for the one's you've lost, but you know are there in spirit and mind alike.

Start this year off differently, such as you had promised yourself to do for the last ten years, but this time, actually do it. Make your new year's resolution to change something in your life. Change your style, change your ego, change your boyfriend, change your underwear. It has come the time where not only are you able to start over, but you are able to literally steer yourself free of trouble and sin, and rather crash into a new you. Realize that you should be thankful for every ticking second God has bestowed upon yourself, as well as the rest of your friends and family. Realize that the walls that surround you each day, can be broken and torn apart with a new attitude and a new outlook on life. Realize that being a good listener can benefit you in more ways than you would think.

I talked to an old friend today and she made me realize that receiving is a bi-product of giving. You will receive once you give, so don't be worried what you are granted in return. Be happy that you are fortunate enough to give and when your time comes, you shall receive as well. Thanks, friend, how I've missed you.

Take this time of the year to look back on 2009 and think about what you could have done differently. Think about all the times you were at an impasse with life, in general, and what you have done to overcome those battles. Build on this, and add to your character. These decisions determine who you are and what you are made of. Keep a level head and never look back, because there is no going back. Rather, stare straight into the eyes of the prize and never settle for anything less. Make proud of yourself, and work hard at making this happen.

Grab life by the horns, before it grabs you. This is your year; make the best of it.

Cheers.

A Fender-Bendered, Dirty Jelly Ringed, Highly Unusual Christmas.

December 23rd, 2009.
"Hey ma, can I take your car out tonight? Frankie's home from Michigan and he's having a few of the guys over."
"Sure, don't be home too late. We have a busy day tomorrow; and you still have to clean your room."

The holidays are great, usually. Christmas Eve's eve (Frankie's house) was great, until a white Chevy Tahoe slammed into my mom's car unexpectedly, causing a whirlwind of events to spiral out of proportion.

If only the Caucasian male who resembled Paul Wall and spoke like a Joisy Shore-ian actually stuck around for the punch and pie of another accident prone Phil and Mike adventure, none of this would have happened. But hey, shit happens, unfortunately.

December 24th, 2009. Early morning, pre wake-up.
"Phil, did you hit something with my car last night?"
"No mom, I have no idea what you are talking about." Back to sleep.

Shit, why did I lie? Well I guess I didn't lie, hence the fact that I myself never actually hit anything with that oh-so-suave 2001 Hyundai Elantra; GT none-the-less. 176,863 miles strong.

December 24th, 2009. Post wake-up, pre jelly ring throw.
"Okay mom, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before but someone hit your car last night. It was a hit and run and I didn't want to ruin your Christmas Eve."
"It's okay. Just tell the truth next time; we brought you up to always be honest, even at the worst times."

My father was livid, as usual, at one of the most unusual things. Can't blame him, I mean the damage done to the car was so horrible that it looked like a bird pooped in the wrong place.

Estimated cost of damages: approximately $158.06; labor included. Some damage huh?

December 24th, 2009. Approximately 8:24pm.
Still wondering why I'm eating dinner on my couch, instead of at the table with the rest of my family.

9:42pm.
Little cousin Gianna blames me for taking her Cinderella doll. In turn she runs upstairs, crying, and I get a dirty look from everyone at the highly drunk annual Forte Christmas dinner table. Shake my head and walk back downstairs.

December 25th, 2009.
"Thanks for the new TV mom and dad."

About 47 minutes later, the Jelly Rings and Marshmallow Twists start flying.
"It's been two (expletive) days and this guy still hasn't been locked up. I'm the bad guy now...blah blah blah. I want your mothers car fixed and I want it fixed now. I'm always the one getting jerked around. I'm done waiting (even on Christmas, quite possibly the most popular holiday to have off from work) for this shit to get settled. Go file a police report."

"Shit happens," said Officer D-e-r(something). "Don't file a police report with missing information, especially if you have someone working on the case for you. Tell your father to call me if he has any questions."

Note to self: doing what your father tells you to still irks him.

This year, Christmas taught me a lot. It taught me how to handle a hit and run accident incorrectly, how important Cinderella is to a 3 year old, and how catering a party at your own house has a ton of negatives. But it also taught me that Christmas will always be there for family and friends to gather, fight, love, and cherish one another, regardless if Paul Wall tries to spoil it; cheap-o.

December 26th, 2009. 4:36pm.
Still craving those Jelly Rings.

Happy Holidays everyone.

Long Island Guy...

I was born, raised and bred on Long Island; that’s right ON, not IN Long Island. I can travel from the south shore to the north shore in twenty minutes, eastern Long Island to western Long Island in an hour and god damnit I love how close I live to the city. Some people take this island for granted, where you can raise a family, eat at various 5-star restaurants, find a job, and fall in love with your hometown. You can live in the slums where you find endless chains of broken down grocery stores and gas stations, check cashing places and liquor stores, or you can live where the rich and famous spawn along golf courses, beaches, and parks. It’s what’s in between where we find a problem. A problem where people believe Long Island isn’t good enough for them and their “dreams.” Some people move away and blame Long Island for their troubles, but Long Island doesn’t care. Long Island is, was, and (hopefully) will always be there for those who enjoy its company, but NOT for those who trash it day in and day out: “Bro its LI duh…go to move to sunny Florida where shit is great all the time.” Yeah, go ahead and move to Florida and make sure to read the fine print on the “Welcome to Florida” sign that blankly states “…where America goes to die.” Blame Long Island for not finding an education, for working at a poor sap’s restaurant getting paid to show some cleavage (thank you), for failing out of art school, for killing your dog, for crashing you car, or for shattering your “dreams.” Dreams are made, and broken, because of you, not because of an island. Just remember one thing: Long Island does not care. Long Island does not want those ON it who continue to bash its beauty and aroma. Life begins with LI, but what you do with your life rests in your hands, only.

Self Loathing in Albany, NY

It’s unreal to think of the language being used today compared to that of nearly half a century ago. Instead of using the proper, modern English set forth by our forefathers and ancestors which makes this language so exquisite and unique , everyone today relies on the use of acronyms to describe what they’re doing. This decline in language, of course, cannot bury the blame on one individual writer or blogger who created the phrase LOL, OMG, or WTF, rather, the blame can be put on those who continue to use these phrases day in and day out (hence my self loathing). The people of this modern world that reeks of technology today are constantly obsessed with the demand for social networking, and in turn everybody today feels pressured to continually “update their status,” or express their feelings with an LMAO this, or LOL that. Twitter this, comment that, post here. I wonder who these “pioneers” of language were and how much they’ve made Orwell turn in his grave so far.

You see Orwell, whom in my opinion, who was one of the greatest authors of the early to mid 20^th century, set forth a set of rules for the writer and the student alike. These rules, rather basic and straightforward attack the foundations of ugly, inaccurate language and suggest that if these rules are indeed followed, the mind and language alike can be used as an instrument for expressiveness. No longer will we find the need to have LOL pop into our head as our first option when reacting to something that is comical. Thus, in following these rules listed below, we CAN change our language and restore the foundation of proper English, not unapt jargon.

Here are Orwell’s six rules for when instinctual writing fails (found in his essay Politics and the English Language):

1. Never use a metaphor, simile of other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.

2. Never use a long word where a short one will do. NOT an abbreviation.

3. If it is possible to cut a word out, cut it out.

4. Never use the passive where you can use the active

5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an English equivalent.

6. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

Indeed these rules sound elementary; however they demand a change in attitude for the writer. They challenge the writer to use more conventional English terms, rather than relying on an acronym to suggest their feelings. Of course, one could follow all of these rules, and still write poor English, but one would not be considered a follower of this ridiculous language that is sought out to be the language of the future.

OMFG WTF are you talking about?

Think about these rules and soak them in, because eventually when you find yourself (for example) being asked to hand in a writing sample to a firm who wants to hire you, these will help. Why do you think Barack Obama was elected president of the United States, because he was qualified? No, he was elected because he comes off as a smart, simple man with good communication skills and his values in place. If you haven’t noticed by now, the present political chaos is most definitely connected with the decay of language and the inability to communicate with one another coherently. We can start to improve by focusing on the verbal end of the problem, rather than searching for the newest web cam to web chat with the enemy this week. America needs to get its shit straight before we forget how to knock on doors or introduce ourselves to a stranger; more on that later.

For now, tty-er, see you tomorrow.