Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The New Lucys
Two of my friends in New York recently gave birth. I think they look eerily alike, given that they're both named Lucy...
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Blast from the Past
My former roommate from college visited me in Oakland this past week. We visited a few neighborhoods in Oakland and Berkeley, ate at my favorite restaurants, and caught an A's game at the Coliseum. Since we're both Mets fans, we went mainly to scope out the stadium and root against the A's opponent, the Yankees. The highlight for us was booing A-Rod every time he came up to bat. Unfortunately, he responded by belting a 3-run homer that put the game out of reach. Bummer. The stadium, though, was a pleasant surprise. It's not as fancy as the newer ballparks, but it has a good atmosphere and great sight lines. We scored $40 seats in section 110, 25 rows up from 1st base -- an unheard of price in New York.
Mark flew out from Florida to attend Stanford Law school's admitted students weekend. He's going for a dual degree in Electrical Engineering and Law, and that's already on top of the masters in philosophy he received at Cambridge a year or two ago. Even though those sort of goals and achievements make me feel like a bum, I'm certainly not jealous of the work he's going to be putting in the next few years. Hopefully, we'll still both have time to go to a baseball game every once in a while.
Mark flew out from Florida to attend Stanford Law school's admitted students weekend. He's going for a dual degree in Electrical Engineering and Law, and that's already on top of the masters in philosophy he received at Cambridge a year or two ago. Even though those sort of goals and achievements make me feel like a bum, I'm certainly not jealous of the work he's going to be putting in the next few years. Hopefully, we'll still both have time to go to a baseball game every once in a while.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Friday, June 27, 2008
Jake Beckman
I checked out the website of an acquaintance from college today and was really impressed. Jake Beckman is an incredibly gifted artist. I love his artwork: well-executed, fun, and thoughtful.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Adios, Tres Amigos!
Three of my best friends are leaving New York this week. I thought, as a going away present, I'd write a little tribute to each of them. Here's the first one.
Marc lived across the hall from me my senior year, but we never hung out much. I spent most of my time in the science library, and he spent most of his time lounging around the various cafes and coffee bars around Swarthmore. Besides, he had his group of friends at Swarthmore -- too cool for school -- and I had mine -- too worried about getting into medical school to be cool. So, by the time he graduated, the only impression I really had of him was his room: it was so messy you literally could not move from one end to the next without lifting pounds of dirty clothing and shoes, old library books, and whatever bagatelle accumulates in a dorm room over the course of a semester.
After college, we found ourselves both living in NY and bereft of close, intellectually stimulating friends. At first, we hung out maybe once a month. We found that we actually shared a lot in common: we both grew up in middle class immigrant families, and we both shared a passion to produce something meaningful in life. Marc's passion is theater, and I learned that theater intersected with my academic passion, philosophy, in many ways. He introduced me to the epic theater of Bertolt Brecht, a library of foreign and indie films, and the various happenings in the world of art & theater in New York City.
During his tenure in NY, Marc was a true bohemian (aka poor and starving) artist. He first roomed with an Equadorian family in West Harlem, and then he shared a one-bedroom studio with three roommates in DUMBO, Brooklyn. He never had any money (he always had less money in his pocket than Janiesha's weekly allowance), so he was always working odd jobs -- like waking up at 5 am twice a week to make baklava and other Middle Eastern pastries at a Greek restaurant. Occasionally, he earned a grant to work on his own show, or he was hired as an extra hand or assistant on a production. But the hours were never stable, the pay was never good, and the work was never truly his own. During these bleak times, he had to endure his own self-doubt: Was he ever going to make it or would he spend all of his time just getting by? I think many other people in his position would have packed their bags, moved back home with ma and pa, and would have just given up. But Marc didn't.
I ended up enjoying my time with Marc a lot because he shares an intensity with the people he is with -- and that intensity is downright virulent. Marc is so intelligent, honest, and stubborn, you're immediately forced to make a choice when you hang out with him: either engage him at the same level (by also being intelligent, honest, and stubborn) or dismiss him as a crazy lunatic. I chose the former rather than the latter. Most of the time, we would go out to eat (that's another passion we shared -- cheap delicious ethnic food) and discuss the topic du jour exhaustively. Conversations with Marc, needless to say, are never boring.
Marc's going on a Christian pilgrimage in Spain for three months. He's bringing with him a sturdy pair of hiking boots and three books: The Canterbury Tales, The Qu'ran, and the Bible. Next Fall, he'll be attending a Ph. D. program in Theater Studies at the University of California Berkeley.
Marc lived across the hall from me my senior year, but we never hung out much. I spent most of my time in the science library, and he spent most of his time lounging around the various cafes and coffee bars around Swarthmore. Besides, he had his group of friends at Swarthmore -- too cool for school -- and I had mine -- too worried about getting into medical school to be cool. So, by the time he graduated, the only impression I really had of him was his room: it was so messy you literally could not move from one end to the next without lifting pounds of dirty clothing and shoes, old library books, and whatever bagatelle accumulates in a dorm room over the course of a semester.
After college, we found ourselves both living in NY and bereft of close, intellectually stimulating friends. At first, we hung out maybe once a month. We found that we actually shared a lot in common: we both grew up in middle class immigrant families, and we both shared a passion to produce something meaningful in life. Marc's passion is theater, and I learned that theater intersected with my academic passion, philosophy, in many ways. He introduced me to the epic theater of Bertolt Brecht, a library of foreign and indie films, and the various happenings in the world of art & theater in New York City.
During his tenure in NY, Marc was a true bohemian (aka poor and starving) artist. He first roomed with an Equadorian family in West Harlem, and then he shared a one-bedroom studio with three roommates in DUMBO, Brooklyn. He never had any money (he always had less money in his pocket than Janiesha's weekly allowance), so he was always working odd jobs -- like waking up at 5 am twice a week to make baklava and other Middle Eastern pastries at a Greek restaurant. Occasionally, he earned a grant to work on his own show, or he was hired as an extra hand or assistant on a production. But the hours were never stable, the pay was never good, and the work was never truly his own. During these bleak times, he had to endure his own self-doubt: Was he ever going to make it or would he spend all of his time just getting by? I think many other people in his position would have packed their bags, moved back home with ma and pa, and would have just given up. But Marc didn't.
I ended up enjoying my time with Marc a lot because he shares an intensity with the people he is with -- and that intensity is downright virulent. Marc is so intelligent, honest, and stubborn, you're immediately forced to make a choice when you hang out with him: either engage him at the same level (by also being intelligent, honest, and stubborn) or dismiss him as a crazy lunatic. I chose the former rather than the latter. Most of the time, we would go out to eat (that's another passion we shared -- cheap delicious ethnic food) and discuss the topic du jour exhaustively. Conversations with Marc, needless to say, are never boring.
Marc's going on a Christian pilgrimage in Spain for three months. He's bringing with him a sturdy pair of hiking boots and three books: The Canterbury Tales, The Qu'ran, and the Bible. Next Fall, he'll be attending a Ph. D. program in Theater Studies at the University of California Berkeley.
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