Home on the Range
Judging from how New Year's Eve just was, I am having good vibrations for what 2012 holds. It was just the right stew of new (friendly) people, old bash brother (Coleski Wolski aka Night Hawk), the novel surroundings of a boat cruising through the dark water of Lake Union, and a wonderful yet utterly eclectic group of general populationers. Of course, I can't forget to mention the involvement of party juice which happened to be some white label Jim Beam, housed in a stainless steel flask. More about the ridiculous crowd: all walks of life were represented. From your gentleman rocking a three piece, pattern heavy, vibrantly colored suit with white
crocodile skin shoes (complete with blue tooth device in his ear) to a pasty skinned, shaggy yet balding individual wearing glasses and a Mariners sweatshirt who looked like he called a wood shack in the woods home. The women were not dressed as extravagantly as these two, but they managed to look ravishing none the less. More interestingly about the female component of the crowd was the style of dance which seemed to spread like wild fire. It was just plain appalling. Had my grandma seen what played out on that boat, I think she would have projected the contents of her stomach overboard (and hopefully not on the boat captain) or used a fire extinguisher on the dancers who to her, seemed to have come down with a nasty case of demonic possession. I will let the picture at right do the talking here.
As the midnight hour approached, we gathered on the bow of the ship to admire the handsome Seattle city line lit up in the dark. My eyes were fixed on the iconic Space Needle which when the midnight stroke came, issued forth a decent fire work show, looking like a massive yet lone sparkler spiked in the ground. It was all beautiful and drunk, and it felt overwhelmingly good to be back in Seattle and in the company of people who I have known longer than three years.
My vacation from work and school was lengthy, being almost three weeks long. It included a quick visit to NYC to see another fellow bash brother E.Sonk. I heart NYC and all of its culture, fashion trend setters and delectable cuisine. The city just drips with coolness. Everything people do in NYC has an edge to it, and I can't help be touched by the city each time I visit. For example, one of the vixens in E.Sonk's veritable harem took it upon herself to start talking to girls at bars on my behalf. As my game needs all the help it can get, I welcomed her assistance with open arms and impish grins. The rest of the trip was equal parts indulging in delicious eats and recovering from late night benders. All in all, it was a successful and expensive tour. I am also creating a habit of boarding my plane from NYC to the next destination with about five minutes until take off. Not a good habit, but it is one that makes you feel alive what with all of the liquid stress coursing through the veins. I would land safely in the Pacific Northwest about six hours later.
Enter the Seattle tour. Truth be told, right after I booked the tickets, I was worried that two weeks at home might be too long for the sanity of Greenberg brothers, parents and pets combined. I thought for longer than just a moment that I might annoy my parents with my incessant bicep flexing or they might annoy me with their own creature habits of not throwing away banana peels and hoarding chachkis. This foreseen annoyance however did not happen, as both my parents are more than saintly. I did get into a few tiffs with the two younger Greenberg brothers though which I did not expect. Yet quite predictably, these tiffs would be over completely asinine issues. The main event involved myself, my youngest brother and the front passenger side seat of his car. Neither of us were driving at the time and as we approached his car, I realized that I really wanted to sit in that front seat. I informed him of this, to which he replied that he does not sit in the back seat of his car. I respectfully and kindly told him to "get in the f__cking back seat," to which he just sat and stared at me as if I was a giant scarf wearing twinkee. As he is bigger than me, I did not get my way. I think we resolved the issue by getting into a yelling match at 2:30am in the kitchen of our parent's house and then each storming off while brooding heavily and individually assessing how bad our manliness was hurt. Thankfully, we got over it quickly.
The trip home was too long in one sense: I quickly got used to how nice it was to be back with family. The kind of nice which seeps into your bones and makes you happy with complete and utter relaxation. There was no task more complicated than changing a light bulb or cleaning a dish that needed to be done. How amazing it was to completely unplug and bask in the company of my family. I was so spoiled over those two weeks it actually made coming back to Los Angeles a challenge, even when stepping out of LAX and into the 75 degree sunshine at 11am. My second semester at USC starts in a few days and I will be starting reinvigorated from a long and restful break. All I need to do now is convince the rest of my clan to move down where it is perpetually warm with palm tree lined streets.