Boo-ya, a dorky-couple-blog at last. Every class has one. I should probably address out some of the rumors about people like us: yes, we’re nice people, and no, we’re not haughty and pretentious because of our relationship. The only reason we don’t hang out with they group most of the time is because we’re usually stuck in our room crankin’ out origami cranes or playing spin the bottle. So instead of going out, getting trashed, and spreading disease di amore
, we’re in there making macaroni necklaces. We don’t hate anyone. We just wish you guys would come and maybe take a look at our arts n’ crafts?
I’m 20 years old, and currently studying in Florence with my girlfriend, Ashley. Great gal, this one. We’ve known each other since the first days of college, and have essentially been together ever since. Strong, elegant, and caring, Ashley has changed the way I interact with the world. Some call that love; some call that a woman that gets what she wants. Perhaps, if the weather is right, I might show pictures of her
macaroni necklaces one day.
I love acting, talking to people, teaching others, playing games, looking great, beating the competition, and whatever else that isn’t really deserving of merit or indicative of integrity. I stayed up last night until 5AM playing an online game of Risk which I knew I was going to lose 3 hours earlier. Still played anyway. Should give you a pretty good indication of my level of self-respect.
Other than that, there isn't much more I'm urging to say about myself other than that I like the word "thyme" and I think sentences sound better when they end in the word "tile." Really irrelevant, but it works great for slam poetry nights. "Beverage" and "crisp"... also great candidates.
I took Meisner training for a year at Tisch--long enough to show me that in life, you really don't get very far without having an objective. You need purpose, you need a goal that you've set to accomplish. If you have a goal, everything else that comes your way is easily tackled. For example, take a normal scenario:
I want milk. I'm craving it. The depths of my body are hungering for milk. So I walk into the kitchen to grab a glass and I find one of my new floormates, David, drunk and lonely from a night of too much sangria and a lack of nice, wholesome Jewish girls. I obviously enjoy people, so as my body is bulleting towards the refrigerator to satiate its depths with the creamy beverage, an intricate choreography ensues in which I engage in social contact while simultaneously fulfilling my own parched throat—all in a matter of seconds. I am nobody's master here. I am Man: beautiful, powerful, and in complete control of the helm of my own ship. My girlfriend? Sit down, woman, I
when you are hungry, I rub your feet when I
want to, I
tell my plant when it
needs to be thirsty. Several seconds later, I crack a funny joke or give a piece of advice and make my way out of the kitchen, my objective acquired. As I’m about to shut the door, David, completely spontaneous and unprovoked, jumps up and gives me 250 dollars.
And of course, the alternate scenario, in which my mind is floating in a vacuum:
I know I am Adam. I detect that I am thirsty. I enter the kitchen because my cave instincts tell me that this is where liquid is held. As I open the door, I stumble upon another human being known as 'David.' He is a friend. I like talking to friends. I have a mouth and am capable of talking. Might as well say something.
As a result, I am now awkwardly standing in the corner with my arms straight at my sides like I'm holding buckets of water listening to a story with the same feigned intensity as when I'm asking a puppy if it wants to go play. 30% of my brain is undergoing physical suffering. This must be what gives people cancer. I scraggle together some pathetic excuse of a smile across my hollow and lifeless face and say goodnight, my milk already gone because I drank it while trying to find something to do to ease the pain of the hellfire-infused conversation that was obviously more than I bargained for. I leave the room. David does not give me 250 dollars.
Moral of the story? Has nothing to do with wanting milk (though milk's prtty gd). Rather, someone who knows what they want usually gets through life on the surfing board of their moral behavior—in this case, my morality included cracking a joke and giving some advice. Why surfing? Well, you don’t think about how you surf, do you? No, you just surf
. People don’t write books about surfing. Doesn’t make sense. Almost like making a movie about an alcoholic homeless man who actually turns out to be a guardian angel granted with immortality and chooses to spend his days on hobbling around the streets of inner Los Angeles. Doesn’t make sense
Getting back to the point, you don’t think about behaving, you just behave. Thinking about your behavior makes it ultimately inauthentic and that’s when you can tell a cheesy date from a real swanky one. People with a developed sense of moral behavior are able to engage in a multitude of interactions rapidly, taking mere seconds while living moment to moment. Hence… the surfing board of moral behavior. You don’t think about what you want, you get
it. Cougars don’t admire the antler design of moose or wish they had the snuggly fleece of sheep. They’re fuckin’ cougars
. They just attack
Whatever it is you’re doing, whether you’re getting milk from your refrigerator, shopping for a pretty pink dress, or planning to kill your ex-girlfriend because she dumped you for your dad—you get to enjoy an adventure along the way. In my case, it was, I say again, cracking a joke and giving some advice. It will obviously be very different for anyone else.
The theme of goals has permeated my days for a long time. I’ve never been able to settle on a particular future. At least in my case, my rejection of a specific profession is a manifestation of my rejection to identify myself. My desire to prevent myself from being identified by one thing, however, has ironically prevented me from being identified with anything at all.
I need to take this time in Italy to figure out what I’m doing with myself, and to craft my own identifiable moral behavior.
I need to learn how to wear the clothes, and not let the clothes wear me.
The biggest motivating factor out of all this? By the time I graduate from NYU, I'll be $100,000 in debt. Ashley never deserved that burden.