A Proper Farewell (2)

Tuesday was spent ricocheting between tasks: pick up glasses, pick up contacts, pick up sandwich from Scaps, pack suitcase for Japan because I'll be at Tufts Wed-Fri and won't have time otherwise, say goodbye to Dad, write blog, etc. ad nauseum. It wasn't too shabby, though. Even though I generally frown when facing the monumental task of squeezing what I find essential into the confined space of a soft trunk, I don't completely begrudge the packing process. More often than not I manage to find scraps of paper and pictures from days past and allow myself a moment to relax in nostalgia. Specific to this packing experience included the Tufts Public Journal, my yearbook from middle school, and postcards from friends who went traveling in the past.

PAUSE::

Re: Middle School Appearance

Why didn't someone shoot me for having hair that long. I mean, come on. It went down past my shoulders, and didn't even have the rocker or grunge look that might give some credence to not lopping it off with a pair of shears. I hate all of you for implicitly allowing that mane to grow to gnarly proportions (looking at you Mom, Dad, Perry).

RESUME::

And as such my Tuesday went. However, my brother came to free me, if only for an hour or two, from the drudgery.

“You wanna come see The Master at 7?”

Done and done. I wasn't too sure if I could afford to go, but hey, I only got a few more moments with him before I begin my process of becoming an expat.

The movie was interesting, to say the least, and while I hadn't formed strong opinions of it during the film, the vague feelings I had were given more structure after the movie when I was talking to my bro about it. In his words: “You know how Philip Seymour Hoffman's son said he [Hoffman] was making it all up. Well, that's kinda what the movie felt like near the end; he [Anderson] was just making it up and didn't know how to finish.” (excuse me Perry if I misquoted you)

And that's kinda how I felt when watching the movie. I thought Joaquin Phoenix's character was phenomenal, though, and the way he and Hoffman interacted in the first half was great to watch, the dichotomy between them: an intelligent and well-spoken man attempting to “reveal the truth” and a brutish man who just lived life, almost as honest and true as you can get.

Anywho, check it out. See it, make an opinion, talk to me about it.

That was my Tuesday.

A Proper Farewell (1)

How the hell do you say goodbye to one person, let alone everyone and their pet rock? I'm not even looking at this from the emotional perspective of, "Woe is me! I shall miss you friends and family, from the deepest corners of my heart to the frayed ends of my hair!" - kinda thing. What I'm talking about is the straight up practical side of the issue.

I guess I could simply write a facebook status, paste a post-it note on the fridge, and leave some voicemails to those aren't close by/don't have facebook. That could cover my bases. I guess.

But no. I want to leave on a good note, replete with warm-and-fuzzies, tight hugs and stupid smiles, back pats and "I'll see ya later, man (or kid, son, boy, cracker, schmuck)." I want to Costanza my exit from the states: leave on a high note. (I'm praying to his noodly appendage that that Seinfeld reference wasn't too far out there. People have watched Seinfeld, right? I'm pretty sure. I hope so. Maybe? That wasn't even that well known of an episode, shit....)

I think that I did it right, though. I did it justice. This past week has been a sprint of making sure all of the t's have been crossed and all of the i's have been dotted and all my things were in order. But, betwixt the mad dashes to Costco before it closes to get my contacts and visits to the local pharmacy to get enough of my prescription meds for my time in Japan, I caught my breath and sat down with those that matter. "You don't have time; you make time," kept going through my head this week. And it's true. You make time.

Monday

After getting back from a weekend of drinking in the sun in Montauk, I threw on my fancy schmancy, "make me look good" clothes and drove down to the Harvest on Hudson to meetup with my girls from the poolhouse over the summer.

PAUSE::

For those I haven't already regaled (read: bothered) with stories about my summer job, I was a poolboy/cabana boy/"recreational facilities manager." I cooked, cleaned, organized, and assisted with other tasks on the property of my employer, specifically his poolhouse. Over the course of the summer, I became friendly with some of the regulars there, namely my employer's daughter and her friends. They kept me company and joked around, helping the summer breeze by.

RESUME::

I arrived there and sat down, waiting for the others to arrive. Soon after, Carol walks through the entrance and we went to the bar to sit. Fast forward half an hour and Dina and Lori arrive, fashionably late because they couldn't figure out how to get there. Let's be honest, it's an easy 25 minute drive, 20 if you speed, 15 if you don't care about your life. But I digress, they came, I was happy, and everything was right in the world (except Rob didn't show up which did put a damper on the night.) After some chitchat we sat down at our table and got down to serious business. We were talking about the past summer, laughing, cracking jokes, and just having a grand ol' time.

After enjoying dinner and dessert, we said our goodbyes, hugged it out, and I went back home, ready to fall into the folds my ice blue comforter. Sleep came quickly, especially when assisted by the comfortable white noise of a fan.

I'll miss you guys.

Montauk and Family Time

My dad, in an attempt to reaffirm the fact that we are a "family," and not simply related to each other, planned for a weekend trip to Montauk, all the way out on the tip of Long Island. We would reinforce our love for each other by building roaring fires on the beach, bulldozing bowls of muscles, and bopping around town people watching. In short, we would be living the dream, and be living it with each other.

But wait, there is more!
"More?" you ask, raising one eyebrow to match your questioning tone.

Why YES, my friend, compatriot, fellow navigator in the waters we call life, there is more. My cousin, Nolan, would be joining us. Out of all the members in my family (immediate, extended, etc.), he is probably the best suited for the potluck of quirks that constitutes the Kerrs at 565 Broadway. What I mean to say is that he's a level headed guy, completely able to go with the flow; he can talk politics, laugh at bad jokes, build fires, and stay happy in the moment.

A guy walks into a bar.
"Ouch!"

The drive up was fine and dandy. Riding middle the entire way wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, due in part to some fine literature I had, as well as funny stories from Nolan.

PAUSE ::
 -- Anyone interested in fantasy should take a look at Garth Nix's Sabriel series (three books long, about 1500 pages all together). I started reading it a long while ago because of a suggestion from a friend (looking at you, JW), but didn't finish it. This vacation gave me the perfect opportunity to dive into some good storytelling and I was delighted. Even as a 20 year old who is realizing that some fantasy may no longer be meant for him (simple language, more basic characters, etc.), I was still able to throw myself into Sabriel.  --

RESUME ::

We arrived at the Ocean Beach Resort around 3:30, settled into our rooms, and immediately fell victim to the whisper of nap nap time. Three hours later and we awoke to a sky filled with creamsicle clouds and streaks of raspberry sinking into the horizon, underlined by a tremendously deep blue that seemed to gobble it all up. It was nice. It was really nice.

The rest of our vacation was a patchwork of moments like that. We would get up in the morning, nom on some diner food, then lazily explore the island. And everything seemed to match our pace. Or maybe we matched the island's pace. Maybe that's what Montauk is like in the off season, just kinda slow and simple. And it wasn't that the people seemed to take things with ease, but rather that it was the only way to go about things.

But hey, don't get me wrong, Montauk wasn't all rose colored and peachy keen. The tip of the island is somewhat mundane, and I'm pretty sure that the only forms of entertainment outside the movie theater that only shows ONE film --  I'm serious -- is stuffing yourself at a restaurant, getting into a food coma, and sitting on the beach.

Now, you may be thinking, "Graham, that sounds like an awesome time. You're an idiot."

And I would agree with you, to an extent. It's really nice. And, to not appreciate the few days I have to lounge around is pretty dumb. But after a few hours of baking in the sun, it really does start to get to you. There isn't much to do.

My family and I did make the best of it, though; my mom scrounged through some tourist pamphlets and found a boat the would take us out fishing, my dad got some restaurant tips from a friend of his, and my brother, Nolan, and I continued to tell jokes.

It was a good time, all in all.

Two guys walk into a bar.
You would've thought the second guy saw it coming.

Foreword

My name's Graham Kerr. I'm studying abroad in Japan for a year.

In case you don't know me that well, here are some tidbits you should keep in mind before you continue reading:

1) I try to type like I talk. Unfortunately, when I am speaking, I gesticulate, change tones and seriousness, rock back and forth, stop mid-sentence to laugh or smile, and do a whole slew of other things. My idiosyncrasies are many. So, to properly reflect the feelings and emphasis I use when I speak, this blog will be littered with italicized, bolded, underlined, and capitalized words. I might even throw in a .gif here and there if words aren't accurate enough.

2) I wax poetic every now and then.

3) I love wordplay, and puns, and jokes that are dumb enough to make you chuckle. Be prepared to weather the onslaught of poor comedy, ye who seek to read this blog.

With that in mind, I hope you enjoy what I have to say.