On Things That Should Never Be Put into Writing

Today in the parking lot I saw a huge black truck with a small yellow sticker on the bumper. At first I thought it was a parking pass, but when I got closer, I saw that it said "Hunting License" on it. Hmm, that's strange, I've never seen one of those on a car before, though this did look like the kind of truck you would take hunting. I stepped in for a closer look, and that was when I saw what it really was.

It said "Terrorist Hunting Permit." And under that, it said "Holder may hunt day or night, with or without dogs."

At first I was just shocked. After it sank in, I became angry. I wanted to slash the huge tires on this truck, something to show them that bad things happen to bad people. It really made me mad. Then I realized that this was the first time since I had gotten here that I had become angry just by being in Texas, or around Texans. Up to this point, it had just seemed like a novelty. Even when I heard about what Emily saw in a store around the corner from our apartment, a little ceramic orange traffic cone to be used as a paperweight or something to put on one's desk, which read "If we outlaw all the guns, what will we use to shoot all the liberals?" Or something along those lines. Even then I wasn't mad, just kind of amused at the absurdity of it. But this bumper sticker, for some reason, had the opposite effect.

If you're reading this, terrorist hunter, I despise you. You're the reason nobody wants to live in Texas.

On Poetic Justice

Sigh. Well, I asked for comments, and I got them. And while I must agree that Eva Longoria is at least one of the sexiest TV stars of all time, I was not all that pleased with the comment spam that resulted from my entreaty for more comments. Therefore, I have made it so that you cannot post a comment without verifying that you are a human being by doing one of those "type what is written above" word verification steps. If anything, this will be annoying to my actual readers, and I will get fewer comments, but I have come to accept that. I guess Jill was right, it's impossible to know exactly who is reading this.

Today there was a brass pizza party and I had my first lesson, which involved, among other things, playing Autumn Leaves with lots and lots of slide vibrato. It was strange, and I'm not quite sure what it accomplished, but I do know that now I am supposed to practice slide vibrato regularly. Perhaps there is a good reason behind it, for as we all know, trombone teachers work in mysterious ways. Or was it that other guy, what's his name...oh yeah, Jesus. Either way. All in all it was a good day, but a long day, with a lot of playing. I think I am going to go home and rest.

We might finally get a TV soon, and then...transcending history and the world...a tale of souls and swords...eternally retold.... I'm very excited.

On Michael Jackson and UFOs

So since I put the counter on this site, there have been 57 hits in a matter of two days. This is all well and good, however, I am struck by another fact, that in the past two days, there have been exactly zero new comments. Comment, people! Just click where it says "x comments" and that will bring you to the page where you can write whatever you want. I want to know who is reading this thing, and I made it possible for absolutely anyone to comment for that exact reason. For example, I just found out recently that my parents have been reading this (Hi, parents). That's fine, I'll admit at first I was upset, since I thought there might be things on here that I wouldn't want them to know. But there aren't, and so I say, read on, parents! But it would be nice to know who else I am sharing stuff with, so please drop me a note, however brief. I think you can even comment anonymously, if you're into the whole secrecy thing. But if you absolutely refuse to comment, then at least drop me an email, tell me how much you love (or hate) reading this thing. It will make me feel better. And that, in turn, will make the world a better place. For you and for me and the entire human race. Heal the wooooooorld.......

Today was a good day. I had my seating audition for orchestra, and was pleased with how I did. I also met with my teacher for the first time since school started; the studio went out for barbecue at a place called Goode Company. It was excellent barbecue. Then after that we went out to the Flying Saucer, which is a bar downtown where they have $2.50 pints on Mondays (anywhere outside of Oberlin, this is an excellent deal). It was my first time downtown, and it seemed nice. At least, it seemed like it would be nice in the daytime. At night, it was kind of deserted, except for the numerous homeless people, and other bar patrons like us.

Tomorrow is also shaping up to be a busy day. I have class, then studio class, then brass rep, and then my first lesson. Then Wednesday, we start orchestra! The way everyone keeps talking about the orchestra here, I am very excited to start playing in it. Then on Thursday I start teaching, which is exciting though a little scary at the same time. A big week in the making.

On the Brighter Side

Here is a view of my life here in Houston. It's kind of fuzzy, but on the left in the foreground is Alice Pratt Brown Hall, the main building for the Shepherd School of Music at Rice, where I spend most of my time during the day. This view is at night, with the skyline from the medical center in Houston as background on the right. Bear with my lack of photography skills, I just got the phone today, and I was slightly inebriated when I took this.

The internet works in my apartment! That means now, instead of being online sporadically during the day, I will be online consistently and over long periods, mostly at night! Hooray! In other news, the electricity works again, the stove was fixed so that the apartment no longer smells like natural gas (or maybe that's just how Texas smells...), and I now have two teaching jobs. I am teaching in two high schools about 45 minutes Northwest of the city, one on Tuesdays from about 6:30 to 8:30 or 9, and the other on Thursdays from about 3 to about 9. I'm going to be raking in the dough. Hopefully I will be able to stop myself from spending it all.

It has come to my attention recently that, while this page was intended to contain information about both me and Houston, specifically contained in humorous anecdotes about things that happen to me when in or around Houston, everything I have posted so far has been mostly about me and not as much about Houston. In fact, whenever I do mention Houston, it is usually to complain about the driving or the weather. In light of this fact, I would like to say the following positive things about this city which I must call my home for the next two years.

-The sky here is beautiful. I don't know what else to say about it except that it's not fair. The rest of the country should not be deprived of this view of the blue sky mixing with fluffy clouds at all times of the day, changing to any number of colors at sunset. Often when I am walking or driving around, I feel like the sky is not real, like it was painted on a cliff by Wile E. Coyote, and I am about to smash head first into that cliff (I hate that coyote!). I wish I could describe it better.

-People here, when outside of their vehicles, are quite courteous. If I'm waiting in line at CVS (it's around the corner and 24 hours, so I'm there often), and another line opens, and the cashier motions to the man behind me to go over, the man invariably will point to me and say, "He was first," as if there is this predetermined order to the world, and far be it for him to try to skip a turn. I thank him and proceed to the checkout, and everyone is happy. In New England, the man behind me would have pretended I wasn't even there, and cut me without a second's thought. It is something to think about.

-I consider myself to be an excellent long-distance driver. In short sprints, I will often be outrun by sporty cars and their constant lane-maneuvering. But over the long haul, my slow and steady pace will win every time. As a long-distance specialist, I have always considered the highway to be my friend. And nowhere am I among more friends than in Houston. There are highways everywhere. The streets are practically highways themselves, with as many as six or eight lanes in places. As much as I complain about the traffic and the bad driving, I want to also say that I appreciate the amount of road space available to me here. It makes driving on Main Street feel like riding a bicycle down a football field.

Well, despite my best efforts, it seems that I have run out of good things to say about Houston. I will go try to think of more in my sleep, and perhaps there will be more good news in the morning.

A Truly Sad Day for Us All

R.I.P. Big Clunky Cell Phone with Antenna Attached by Krazy Glue 2003-2005

Now I have a new cell phone! And it's awesome! I would take a picture of it with my new cell phone and show it to you, but that would cause some kind of rift in space-time. But trust me, it's awesome:

On Darkness as Helplessness

The electricity is out in my apartment. It's completely dark.

I would be mad, be cursing at the electric company, but the situation was entirely avoidable, had I only called the company earlier to put the electricity into my name. Granted, I called on Monday, which was the day our lease started, and they said that the electricity would start in my name tomorrow. I knew that today was the last day that it would be in the name of the previous tenant, so since the woman on the phone at the electric company didn't say anything at the time, I just assumed that they wouldn't turn the electricity off today just to turn it back on tomorrow. That would be a waste of time and money, right? What company could be so inefficient?

But guess what! That's exactly what they're doing! Tonight, no electricity. Tomorrow, it comes back! Which is good, but it also probably means that they can charge us for the visit to turn it back on. Not to mention the inconvenience of holding us without electricity for one day. Sons of bitches. And since it takes three days to turn on electricity (Why? What about this could possible take three days? I drove across the fucking country in three days! Is their service man in Boston right now, and can't come flip the fucking switch until he drives here? What the fuck?), there is nothing that I can do to get the electricity turned on tonight, according to the nice customer service lady I talked to on the phone today. She said that since I called Monday, our electricity was coming on tomorrow, while the previous tenant's electricity was turned off today, as scheduled. So I asked her when tomorrow the electricity would be turned on, and she said, "Some time during the day." Well, yes. So I asked if I could request that it be early in the day. She said "No, but hopefully it will be turned on soon." I said "Yes! Yes, hopefully it will!" Then I thanked her sincerely and hung up the phone.

I can't help but feel responsible, even though this wasn't really my fault. Still, I am forcing two other people to live in a second floor apartment in Houston without air conditioning or light for one night. We stored our perishable food in our neighbors' refrigerator, so that's not a problem. It's just an unnecessary hassle.

On the brighter side, it seems to be cooling off nicely outside as it gets dark, so maybe the apartment won't be completely unbearable, and I might get some sleep. Also, today was a good day as far as feeling more settled and at home. Lilly arrived, my other housemate, and it feels better to have all three living in the house. We still lack a lot of necessary furniture, but we can fix that soon. We also met our downstairs neighbors (in whose fridge our milk is currently not going sour) and they are quite nice and seem like cool guys. We're even going to split wireless internet six ways, which is excellent, if we can get it working. And I acquired a studio key yesterday and practiced there for the first time today, which strangely made me feel more like I belonged than practicing in the practice rooms. I hope that, as the next couple of weeks go on, I will get more into the routine, start teaching, and generally fall into the idea that Houston is home and the right place for me at this time.

Though I'm not sure how long it will be until I stop missing Oberlin.

On Valhalla and Nesting Rituals

So I'm slowly getting used to life in Texas. Today I bought a dresser (of sorts, really a cabinet) at Target, and once I get it assembled and I'm unpacked and all moved in, I'll feel a lot better. We still need to find furniture for the common spaces, but that can wait a little while.

Last night I ran into a couple of the other new Graduate trombonists while practicing, and I went with them to Valhalla. Valhalla is the Graduate bar on campus. I was lucky I was with someone, because it seems like a place that you would never find unless you knew where it was already. I'm not entirely sure that it would even be visible if you weren't looking for it. You get to it by going around the back side of one of the buildings on campus (the engineering building?), and entering what was described to me as a "midget door." That's exactly what it looked like. However, there were no midgets inside. We walked through a hallway that was painted with weird scenes depicting Norse Gods and dragons and other mystical things, and into a tiny room that was pretty much a bar and three to six tables. It was a complete hole in the wall dive, and it was great. Beer was 85 cents a cup, or if you wanted the expensive stuff, $1. I got drunk with the studio, as well as another trombonist, Mike, who graduated last year. Then we went to a Mexican place called Ruchi's, which is open 24 hours and had some of the best Mexican food I've ever had (keep in mind, I was drunk). All in all, it was a good night, and an important first bonding experience for the studio.

Then today we had our first Brass Rep class. I played the first piece, and then stayed to listen to some of the second. The brass department sounds pretty damn good, I think. I can't wait to play in the orchestra starting next week.

Now I am going to go home and assemble my cabinet. Maybe, depending on how long it takes, I can finish unpacking afterwards, and tonight can be my first night spent at home in Houston.

On Adventures in Shopping, Texas Style

It seems that there is some truth to the rumors that everything is bigger in Texas. I had my doubts, thinking that perhaps this was just another unfair stereotype, but these doubts were put to rest when I tried to buy a loaf of bread.

I was bored yesterday afternoon, so I went in search of a grocery store, so that I could do some minimal food shopping. I just wanted to get pasta, pasta sauce, some soup, peanut butter, and bread, you know, the bare essentials. After a little bit of driving around town, I found a place called Fiesta. Fiesta seemed to be a rather large supermarket, but it did pride itself on its low food prices, so I thought I would give it a try. It turned out to be a rather normal-sized supermarket on the inside, with all the usual food stuffs. I got everything I was looking for, and then I went for the bread aisle.

I just wanted a loaf of bread. Not too big, not too small. Just enough for me to make peanut butter sandwiches for the next few days or so. The first loaves I looked at were Fiesta brand bread, probably not any good, but cheap, only 89 cents. 89 cents for a whole crapload of bread. This was the biggest loaf of bread I have ever seen, it was like two loaves in one bag. I went down the aisle to look at the other brands of bread, and they were all the same, it was a big two for one sale on bread, only you couldn't buy just one loaf, they only came in huge double-sized bags. I went back down the aisle again and picked up the Fiesta brand bag, and paid for the food. As it turns out, it was quite cheap. I think Fiesta might become one of my favorite places to shop. At first I thought I should try to find someplace with normal-sized loaves of bread and shop there instead, but then I realized that I would have to go out of state for that. After all, everything is bigger in Texas.

Well, tomorrow I move in to my apartment finally, and I have my first class as a graduate student. Then things look like they will pick up later in the week as the semester gets into full swing. So until next time, faithful readers, have a wonderful day.

On a New Life and Impending Adulthood

The time has finally come. My trip is at an end. I am in Houston.

I got in yesterday, driving into downtown Houston right smack in the middle of rush hour (6:00 to 6:30 pm central time). The traffic was so bad that it made me never want to drive in Houston again. "Too bad!" said Houston, "there's basically no public transportation. You gots to drive!" Then I was all like "Damn, Houston, that's cold. I thought we were friends." And Houston was all like "Whatever, man. I don't even know you." I tried to reason with Houston, but by this point he was completely ignoring me.

But that was not my worst or last encounter with driving in Houston. I went to a job interview today in a suburb northwest of the city, to teach private lessons in trombone and euphonium at a high school. The drive there took me on about five different highways which wind and intersect in and around the city. Traffic was terrible, even at 2 in the afternoon, and the fact that I had only a small idea of where I was going made it that much worse. It was worth it in the end, because I got the job, but now I'm trying to cope with the fact that I have to repeat that hellish drive on a weekly basis all year long.

Today was my first day of graduate school, and it was a long and busy day. So far it is very strange to be a graduate student in a completely new place. It's very weird somehow to be on a campus that is my campus but isn't Oberlin. I won't list all the things that I did today, but there have been a few things that have really made my situation hit home. I think I will share those with you.

-My new Rice ID says "Graduate Student" right there under my name. It's not quite like having letters after your name, but it does make you feel accomplished.
-When I was talking to the band director at the high school, who also went to Rice for trumpet, he never really asked for any credentials, though I did give him a resume. At one point he said "I know that since you go to Rice you must be good and you must know what you are doing," and that was enough for him to hire me. I didn't realize that the simple fact of what school you go to could hold such sway.
-Entering the high school where I will teach was the first time I had been in a high school since I had recently been a student myself. I at first wondered if people would think I was a student, but then when I saw the students I realized how preposterous that was. I looked much more like a teacher than a student. Walking into a high school as a teacher for the first time somehow seemed like a crash course in becoming an adult. I'm not sure if I'm ready, but I'd better get ready fast.

Now I'm tired, but I have the whole weekend to get some rest before classes start on Monday. For this I am extremely thankful.

On International Friends and Old Jokes that Die Hard

DrivingdrivingdrivingdrivingdrivingdrivingdrivingInternet! Hey, I found an internet connection at my hotel! That means I can update my blog!!!

So yeah, I'm here at the Comfort Inn outside of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and, thanks to Josh, I no longer have any fear of getting an elephant caught in my pajamas. At least for tonight.... But that's irrelephant. The important thing is, I've been driving for two days, traveled over 1200 miles, and I'm almost there. Just one more day, and Houston will finally feel my wrath.

Thanks to all who have called while I've been on the road, it's been good to talk to people, especially those in other countries who I haven't talked to in a long while. It's not often that I get phone calls from Japan and Guatemala in the same day!

The drive so far has been good. There have been a few landmarks, such as the Pink Cadillac Diner in Lexington, Virginia, and of course driving by Fort Chiswell is always a pleasure (Fo' Chizzwell, ma nizzwell!). But I have also learned a lot. For example, I learned that with a few small adjustments (removing headrest, reclining chair, putting down sun visor, pointing slide at opposite corner of windshield, slouching slightly) it is entirely possible to practice trombone in the front seat of my car. That is, as long as you don't plan to use seventh position. Which I don't!!!! I found this out while I was in the tiny northwest corner of Georgia that separates Tennessee from Alabama on I-59 south, and it started to pour rain hard enough that I pulled into a truck stop to wait it out. With time on my hands, I decided to see if I could get some practicing in, and lo and behold I could, even with the back seat full of boxes! I am a veritable Jack-of-all-trades. That didn't make any sense.

Anyway, signing off for now, hope to see Texas soon, and when I get there I will report on whether the stars at night are indeed big and bright.

To respond:
-Of course I knew that the M&Ms had been training, that's what they do! Never underestimate the power of the M&M.
-I wasn't making fun of Russian gymnasts, I think they're extremely hot. Talented! I meant Talented!
-Don't make fun of maths, or mats as the Canadians call them.
-You would like Lolita, you pervert. You like 40-year-old men.
-I try to steer clear of New Jersey. Like yesterday, I could have driven through and messed with it some, but I think it's better this way. Though I did mess the hell out of Pennsylvania. I think Ohio has had enough of me for now, I've messed with Ohio quite a bit in my day. As for Indiana, I hate that fucking place. Next time I'm driving through there, look out, it's going to get seriously messed with.

On Texas and Other States Not to be Messed With

Tomorrow I leave. Starting in Newton, I head Southwest until I hit Mexico, then I turn and go back just a little. Actually, it's not quite that easy to find Houston. On Tuesday I will leave Massachusetts, drive through Connecticut, into New York, across to Pennsylvania, and then a brief visit with Maryland and West Virginia on my way to Virginia. About halfway down Virginia I will stop for the night in the town of Lexington, where many important revolutionary war battles were fought...wait...no. Nevermind. I wanted to drive until I was tired, feel it out as I went where I should stop each night, but my mother nixed that idea. I had to have reservations. So now I do, and they are in Lexington, VA.

My second reservation, for Wednesday night, is in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I get there by driving down the rest of Kentucky, into Tennessee, then down to Birmingham, and just a bit further west to Tuscaloosa. Though I visit half the number of states on Wednesday that I visited on Tuesday, the distance is almost exactly the same. That's because Southern states are bigger and more boring. Interesting! I meant to say interesting! The keyboard slipped.

Then Thursday, the final leg of my drive, I leave Tuscaloosa traveling west into Mississippi. When I reach Jackson, I turn south and head towards Louisiana. Then finally, west into Texas and to Houston, where I arrive (if all goes well) on Thursday night.

Total distance: 1,854 miles. That's over 70 marathons. Thankfully, I'm not running there. Mostly because I wouldn't be able to carry all my stuff.

Tip of the Day: If you haven't seen The Aristocrats yet, go see it. It's hilarious.

On Vending Machines and Probability Theory

I will begin by assuming that anyone reading this is familiar with the concept of a vending machine. You put money in, press a few buttons, and the snack food or soft drink related to that particular combination of buttons drops from a height ranging from 6 to 24 inches to the bottom of the machine, where, after pushing a trap door open, you can retrieve your chosen item. Well let me just say that the vending machine here where I have been working for the summer functions slightly differently. I used to think it was merely a harmless variation on the original.

Until today.

I went this morning to the kitchen to get a cup of tea (I stayed up last night finishing Lolita and was in need of some caffeine...by the way, I'm sorry, it was well written and all, but that book just didn't hold my attention after the first hundred or so pages), and decided, as I often do when tempted by the evil vending machine, that I wanted a bag of M&Ms. It is my last day of work before shipping off to Houston on Tuesday, so I decided to get the candy even though there were two other people standing in the kitchen at the time, and I usually prefer to be alone when admitting a certain weakness for chocolate in a thin candy shell. I put in my dollar, pressed the appropriate combination of buttons, and the M&Ms fell...not quite far enough.

You see, the trap door present on most vending machines is mysteriously absent on this one. Instead, there is a chamber in the shape of a cylinder on its side. The food falls into the chamber, then if you follow the instructions to "push down" on the protruding piece of plastic, two cylindrical plastic shells move in opposite directions around the chamber, the opening at the top through which the food just fell closes, and another opening appears towards you, showing your food lying in wait. Until today, the only defect of this system that I had found was that, if the previous user did not move the cylinders back to their original position, it was sometimes necessary to first lift up on the plastic piece, to open the top so the food falls in, and then push back down again, which is a small price to pay for delicious M&Ms. However, there is also a ledge on either side of the cylinder, just above it and out of reach, which I never noticed before, because it seems far too small to support any snack food. My friends, it is on this ledge, leaning straight up against the wall, above and to the left of where they were supposed to land, that my M&Ms now stand.

Three other men (a third had entered) watched as I moved the cylinder up and down, opening and closing the compartment, hoping that the M&Ms would fall in. They did not. On the advice of one of the men, I began rocking the entire machine back and forth, but to no avail. Then another of the men came over and started to punch the machine with his fist, right where the bag stood, mocking me. No help. Finally, the third man, not wanting to be left out, grasped one side of the machine as I took the other, and we lifted it up on one corner as far as we could, shaking it violently at an angle of about 45 degrees to the floor. Nothing. I feigned indifference and left, silently vowing that I would return, 65 cents again in hand, and I would have my M&Ms.

I waited a few minutes, to make sure that the kitchen would clear out, then I returned. I was alone. I put the money in. I pushed down on the lever, so that the top of the chamber would be closed. I'm not sure why I did this, other than in the hope that the second bag of M&Ms would fall in the same direction as the first, and would hit them and knock them over, and I for some reason thought this would be more likely if I closed the compartment. Well, the second bag did fall in the same direction as the first. It did hit the first. But rather than dislodge it, as I had hoped, it stayed. On the ledge. Right next to the first bag. I stared in disbelief. Remember, or realize, since I am telling you for the first time, that this ledge is no more than a centimeter in width, and it was now carrying two bags of milk chocolate M&Ms. Perhaps had I chosen peanut this wouldn't have happened. But I didn't want fucking peanut. I moved the cylinders, up and down, up and down. Nothing. I couldn't believe what was happening. I repeated my motions of earlier, rocking the vending machine back and forth. To my great relief, this did actually succeed in dislodging the second bag, which I am eating as I write this. The first bag, I assume, still resides on that small ledge, crying out to me that it will never be conquered, it will remain there for eternity.

Indeed, I leave work today never to return. I will be over a thousand miles away by next Thursday, and the M&Ms will have won, my surrender will be complete. I have, since the incident, come to terms with this fact. But I am still baffled by the probabilistic implications of what just occurred. The chance that two consecutively vended bags of M&Ms would follow the same trajectory, the top of the bag falling to the left as the machine pushed it out, one full and perfect somersault with a quarter turn over the fall of about 12 inches, a perfect landing, perpendicular to the glass, on that tiny ledge, must be microscopic, not even to mention the chance that one centimeter-wide ledge could hold upright two full bags of M&Ms. Like Russian gymnasts these bags landed on that balance beam, perfect each time, just like they had practiced over and over as they waited in line for their turn to jump. So my question is, what kind of strange singularity was this? What other aberrations, defiant of physics and mathematics, could be possible within this kitchen? I shudder to think.

I realize that this is an overly long post, and it is not at all the bold new beginning I had imagined for my Houston Adventure Blog, but as I sit savoring my $1.30 bag of M&Ms, I can't help but think that this incident, strange and new and completely inexplicable, is the perfect way to end one phase of life and begin another. Physically, I am still here in Boston, and yet I feel as if I have just begun a long journey.