I SAW TIM MEADOWS!!!

My friend Libby and I saw Tim Meadows today!! In real life. Standing on the street corner, waiting to cross. He was looking out into the world. I looked at him as I look at most people standing on street corners with me, and I thought, Hey, I like that guy's leather jacket, and that's an awesome Chicago flag patch on his shoulder. Then it hit me. I turned to Libby.

"Hey, is that Tim Meadows? I think that's Tim Meadows."

And he looked over as one usually does when hearing their name called out multiple times, and I star-struckingly stuttered, "I've always admired your work, Mr. Meadows. You're a really talented guy. Thank you." (I think that's what I said. I remember "admire," "talented," and I probably said "thank you." Because I believe all of those things; I think the guy's a great comedian and I grew up on SNL.) To which he replied with gratitude and a smile.

It completely made my day; made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, which made me immediately start sweating. And then I told a guy at the bus stop across the street, "Hey, Tim Meadows is over there." To which he replied, "You don't say?" I do, sir. I do.

While sitting at Sultan's Market over a falafel, I confessed to Libby how I wished I would've thought to talk to Tim in my incredibly awesome Ladies' Man voice. She said it was probably for the best that I hadn't.

He's looking good(!), in case you were wondering. Hints of gray sprinkled in his scruff, but that stuff's normal when you're 50, I guess.

Where he is now, or was a year or so ago.

The Guy Who Played Mr. Belvedere's Fan Club -- totally not good as a clip, but I couldn't find a full one.

10-24-11

To put my thoughts into the words of someone else.


Purposely he walked. Without a plan he lived. Mimicking others seen. He thought, if only I could do like they do. He dreamed of living the only dream worth dreaming: recognition. Sometimes he convinced himself he was already dead. Scarce interactions, or none. No one any longer called him son, and so he wandered wondering why.

As he walked he passed a black man in a white suit, flawless, long white coat, and a white heart painted on the back of each hand. Curtis immediately envisioned him with a hat and a cane to match the white loafers - everything - as he passed.

“Life is blessed. Love is blind.” Directed at no one in particular, though they were the only two on the street.

“Excuse me, sir. Why are you dressed this way?”

“What way? This is my way. I wear this everyday.”

“Where are you going?”

The man in hearts kept walking and turned into the park. “My way. I walked this route everyday.”

“Why the white?”

“You sayin’ it ain’t right?” But it wasn’t a question, and he kept on walking. Curtis followed.

“Am I alive? Because sometimes I feel like I’m dying side. It doesn’t hurt, but everything is fading. My organs grow numb. Sometimes when I want to snap I can’t find my thumb. There are days where I speed up the process by drinking and smoking and fighting with unfriendly types, but I keep coming back. I don’t know what to do, mister, sometimes living doesn’t seem worth what they say.”

Hearts on hand, the man continued on.

“Excuse me. Do you have the answer?”

“It depends on the question and the quantity.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I thought the problem was that you didn’t. Your life is worth whatever sum you make it, and there are people out there who will take it if you let them. A life is a blink in the history of the world. It doesn’t matter much regardless of your presence in it, life will bowl over you after you’re dead. But now, here you are, and here I am. If you ever need any help, I’m your man. Just look for the hearts in the near east of the park.”

And with that the man walked into a thick set of bushes.

As dusk was beginning to settle, Curtis felt uneasy and back on his path to nowhere, even more confused to it this life he seemed to be living was even real. Befuddled he turned on his heel and retreated to the sounds of cars busying themselves into night.

Squash Every Week into a Day

Life's moving fast. And in which direction we're going, I'm not really sure.

I was fired from my restaurant job on Monday. Fired. That's never happened before, and let me just say, it kind of sucks. More a lot than not. Yeah, I brought it up, but I'd rather not go into details... more like, I can't go into details because not being put on this week's schedule was the first sign I got, so I sent an email (because it was too late to call), and the next day a call from a manager came letting me know that they were "no longer in need of my service" regrettably, so they said. When asked why, all I was told was that I didn't live up to expectations. No one ever asked me to do anything differently. How do you improve when you don't know what to improve? That was frustrating. Is frustrating. There's a first time for everything, so they say.

Everything happens for a reason,
When one door closes another door opens.

At least I only cry when I'm alone have trivia... yeah, I'm a two-night a week trivia host. That's not going to pay the bills, though. And so I've been applying/interviewing for jobs like mad. Scheming and dreaming and thinking up new things. I'm not giving up on 'merica. I made the plan to stay here at least a year, and by jove! I'm going to make something of myself while I'm here! Ideally that would encompass teaching and writing. There's a part of me that doesn't feel right teaching in another country because education builds the foundation of a country's success, and we all know that America needs success right now.

There are no rainbows without the rain.
Day by day.
Baby steps.
Breathe.

These are things I tell myself when I think of the position that I'm currently in and I feel the panic begin to rise in my chest. Or, as my late and [am told] great Great Grandpa Fonce said: From the time that you're born, 'til you ride in a hearse, there's nothing so bad that it couldn't be worse.

If there's one thing my family's taught me, it's resiliency, and I will pick myself up from the fall, brush off the dirt and walk on. Repeating as necessary when life knocks me down.

MUSIC!

I'm  helping my friend, Sammy Joe on his music blog: http://thesongstack.com/ WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Check us out!

Now that I have mastered the whole HTML posting I must pack for friends are getting married in St. Louis this weekend!!!

Perks of the Job

Mark Twain: a true cat lover. (insider info from Cat Fancy's Jan '12 issue. MARK YOUR CALENDARS!!)

It's not all bad. Sure, after taxes I make less than Canadian minimum wage... probably before taxes, too, but the calendar information I enter will provide me with stories long after I've made my nest under the nearest bridge.

I say good-bye to this corporate temp gig tomorrow and move back into the restaurant industry FTish. Oh, the job applications and interviews of the past that I shake my head at, and the ones in the future which I'm trying to remain hopeful for, but am skeptical about with the amount of scams on Clist. I won't start on that.

Basically I just wanted to share the Mark Twain business, and then I felt it necessary to provide some context. Until later, interneters.

the ole switcheroo

There were a few mornings where I poured orange juice over my Corn Flakes or Fruity Pebbles thinking that would combat my continuously grumbling stomach. “I must be lactose intolerant.” As if three days of no dairy would be an instant cure-all. Unfortunately, dysentery by water supply wasn’t that easily cured.

That damn island; I loved it, but apparently it didn’t feel the same about me.

9/3/10

"Today was all relax, though I wish I could transport everyone I've ever met and loved in my life to this place with me, and we would all swim and spin in the sea laughing for all the happiness in the world."
--Boracay, PI
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SCUBA certification with Team Lone Rangers and Big Blue Diving in Koh Tao, Thailand on September 22, 2010.

Bus in PI going to Taal from Manila, when Lizzikins was still with me.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my travels. Dreaming of the days spent wandering in wonder, and I'm in love and I'm lost. I can't help it; September's the month of change, new beginnings, and I feel like I'm back at square one. I'm thinking a lot about where I've been: "this time two years ago I was living in Korea" and "I was in Thailand, living out of a backpack and sleeping on bouncier than you would believe buses this time last year." Right now I can't see where I'm going and that's feels more scary than exciting now that I'm back home.

But that fear of the here and now and seemingly desperate times is something else that's not for now or here, and so we move on: I just started re-reading my travelogue which feels like kind of a big deal - probably because I built it up as such. I have a slight inkling as to why it's taken me almost a year to re-crack the bronze-wood journal's binding. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to have to come to the realization that my travels were over, and I suppose that is a part of it, but the main reason I discovered was fear that my words wouldn't hold a candle to the truth, thus sparking no memories and completely void of inspiration. In truth, I hope that my fragmented thoughts spin themselves into stories with my prodding.

To end with the words of a man I dubbed "Jacksonville" on flight KE621 from Incheon, KR to Manila, PI who sat next to me and spoke about the book full of  25 potential wives to the woman who was returning home after 30 long years (GOLDMINES ALREADY!!! Skeletons that I must flesh out.): if you are confident, you will be a success.