well, i guess it was bound to happen sooner or later... it just happened sooner. i forgot to write yesterday, which officially qualifies me to be a bad person. anyway.

i've finally made it to unemployed-lump-panicking-about-all-the-free-time-he-has mode, which makes me feel kind of gross. next year is really starting to get on my nerves, in terms of figuring it out. in addition to the general panic about whether or not i'm a tv industry person, i now can add the whole not-being-able-to-do-anything-about-it mess to the mix. i mean, you know, at the moment.

i need to take more deep breaths, i think. that will help.

hasta.

today i spoke with my aunt's neighbor and friend who is in the television business. she gave me the low down. a brain dump, as she called it. it scared the crap out of me. to be fair, it was a lot of stuff that i should have been able to figure out on my own. throw yourself in full throttle. really, really want stuff. be prepared to be a grunt for a while, potentially a long while. self doubt cropped up pretty quickly after she had finished what she had to say. and the thing is this: all of a sudden i find i have to make a decision about what i want to do for the rest of my life. and that's not even true, but it definitely feels that way.

and the real question is: do i want this enough? her husband, andy, was talking to me as i was walking out the door about some potential hook-up to be gopher for a bunch of jewish gay sitcom writers, and when i expressed only vague interest, he said "this position is for one of a thousand guys frothing at the mouth for it." and that's a problem: i should be frothing at the mouth, and i go to look for it, and it's not there. to be fair, the idea of hanging out with gay jewish sitcom writers all day is a bittersweet one, and i think that's what caught me off guard by andy's offer... but can someone who wants to be what i want to be ever be caught off guard?

mary (that's the wife) made the comment, when i asked if tv was the soul-sucking business everyone makes it out to be, that idealists shouldn't work there. they should go to africa and help cure people if that's what they want to do. but there's nothing wrong with entertaining people. i'm worried i don't believe that. i mean, i do believe that, but what is the use of my life if that's all i'm going to do? tonight i watched a recorded episode of er where one of the chicago docs goes to darfour to help carter run a clinic in a refugee camp. that's the work of an idealist. but i don't think i'm him.

and doing this excites me, which is something, even though i'm scared crapless. one thing i did realize is that even if it's hard or long hours or whatever that nobody seems to achieve anything real without them. doctors, teachers, lawyers. and i do have to remind myself that i love love love to write. anyway. i've got my summer job, and so any jumping in for to get feet wet can stew for a while. and maybe it's all right if i freak out, just a little.

hasta mañana.

Today was a relative-intensive day, culminating in a dinner with 13 people. It was all very nice, though I'm starting to wonder what I'm doing back here. San Francisco feels very very far away, both geographically and temporally.

I've been listening to Joanna Newsome, a harpist and singer who's got a strange voice. I got her CD from Dan, son of Brenna, whom I stayed with in Dublin. It had been lying dormant in my music collection for most of the intermediate time, or occupying space on my mp3 player, my own attempt to get me into it, but it wasn't until right before i left for san francisco that i connected with the music, and it's kind of great, except for the fact that no one can stand to listen to it. both anna and my dad found it so grating that they had to beg me to turn it off in the car. maybe they have bad associative memories with voices like that, but i think it's cute and sweet. i don't know, i'm probably crazy.

anna stalked out of the living room earlier while we were watching the end of a basketball game and chatting. mom had broken out the limoncello (she managed to consume a healthy amount of alcohol at dinner) and offered all the of-age (or virtually of-age) family members a wee glass; the drinking prompted anna's exit. i know how she feels, and i must confess that i have no idea how to make her feel better. i guess this is one of many, many dissilusionments she'll go through over the next ten years, and it's scary to realize the complete powerlessness we exhibit in face of it.

back to manhattan tomorrow, via westchester. keep breathing, keep breathing.

i had the rare pleasure, while flying from SF to NYC today, of getting spectacular birds-eye views of both cities. san francisco, obviously the smaller, looked even more so from the sky. i've mentioned this to a few people before, but there's something unbelievably comforting in being able to see the entire thing at once. as if, i don't know, you could put it in your pocket. the plane, taking off from oakland, literally flew right over downtown, and i could see all the neighborhoods, so succinct and distinct when on the ground, literally blending into each other. golden gate park is really huge, and really looks to be much closer to the bay than anyone thinks. what a great town. i'm definitely riding on the high of being back, being immersed in the familiar.

new york, on the other hand, is a sparkling diamond in a way that san francisco is most definitely not. it was night by the time we reached the east coast (a rapid sunset, flying that direction) and manhattan was lit up like a christmas tree. we flew right over the village, meaning i had an amazing view of midtown. the lights from times square reached way up to the airplane, and it looked as if any second it might burst with brightness and color. the empire state building (as do most buildings) looked really funny from the angle i was looking at it; as if just the gentlest of nudges would upset its balance. and it was at once both very tall and very short, if that makes any sense. i could trace the east river up to the harlem river up to the hudson; central park was a big black patch (dotted with lights) in the middle of the unrelenting grid of the upper east-and-west sides. i could see broadway zig it's way across the island, and i named all the bridges. it's unbelievably big, and has a depth of people (literally) that san francisco lacks for the most part, i think.

at first, i was thinking i was crazy for going over there for such a short time, and then coming back here for a relatively short time, and then back again, but actually, it's kind of amazing. if i could just find a job that kept me bouncing from coast to coast, i think i'd be set. because, really, when you think about it, things aren't as far apart as they used to be... so why stay still?

hasta manana.

Another day almost missed... almost, but not quite. I had many profound discussions throughout the day, but zeroing in on one of them is difficult at the moment. I spent a large portion of the day with James, which actually kind of great. I spent various moments throughout the day (especially once alcohol was introduced, especially one everyone else was removed) thinking “why aren’t James and I better friends?” I’d almost always immediately counter, saying we are good friends, and if we lived in the same place, we’d probably spend more time together. I feel like a loser for not seeing him more when he lived in New Haven, and can’t help but wonder if he, too, feels a bit like a loser... I suspect not. I don’t mean that in the self-effacing way it sounds, but in just the reality of the situations.

At one point James and I had plans to go get smashed in my neighborhood, but we were waylaid, first by food, and then by Susan and Kat coming home. Susan poured us glasses of wine, and we sat and talked; eventually the conversation turned to the subject of Scientology (Susan and Kat had just gone to see Mission: Impossible: III) and, realizing that none of us had even a basic grasp of what the religion was all about, popped open the internet to see what we could see. The Wikipedia article is simultaneously thorough and mystifying, through one gets the sense that that has more to do with the religion than the encyclopedia; one succinctly described section about the different “levels” of Scientology (I can’t remember exactly now, but I think there are 8 stages of “Clear,” and how upon achieving each point you get to hear more and more about the mysteries of the universe), which seems to employ the same psychological underpinnings that drive pre-teenage boys around the world to want to reach the next level of whatever video-game they’ve got going. I just think about that moment before these Scientologists reach the last level: it must be so great to think you’re about to find out the answer to life, and I wonder how many of them tell themselves afterwards that they’ve actually heard it.

James told me today that his older brother is gay. I was pretty surprised. I always felt vaguely disconnected from James on my gay front, like it was addressed to meet the standards of politeness, but outside of that really had no presence. He asks me from time to time if I’m seeing anyone, and has been known to say every now and again, “Charlie, you need a boyfriend.” Not in a despairing or patronizing kind of way, but in a genuinely concerned way. Anyway, because, I don’t know, because I’m off my rocker in more directions than we’ve got names for, my mind immediately starts scanning anything and everything to see if he’s been prompted by his brother’s coming out to reevaluate his own sexuality, and for the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t help thinking about how nice it would be if James were gay. I think it has something to do with something we talked about; the subject was relationships and the fear associated with them, the learning of the other and the giving of the self, blah, blah. And I realized that James and I would need hardly of that giving/taking stuff, because we know eachother fairly well. Right? Maybe we don’t. That scares the crap out of me. James is going to China next month with a program, on which will be a girl he is interested in (and perhaps has something going with?), where he will probably have beautiful poetic relationship experiences, and I will lose him forever to the far-off land of people in relationships. Another one bites the dust.

Lucky bastards.

i almost forgot to write something, and it's only day 2. i won't lie: it doesn't bode well for my consistency. but then again, this is just supposed to get me to write something, not a pulitzer prize winning thing or whatever.

yesterday i had to sign a loyalty oath. i was at sf park and rec filling out a mountain of paperwork (i must have signed my name to seventeen different papers), and all of a sudden, having read and signed papers about my asbestos rights and how i'm not supposed to call people niggers or cunts or kikes in the workplace, i come accross a sheet that says:

"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution of California against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution of California; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties upon which I am about to enter."

i was on a roll going through my forms, and decided to leave it be for the moment, not ready to tackle it politically and conceptually until i had signed my name to everything else. the woman who was supervising me walked by and i stopped her and asked, "a loyalty oath?" she looked at me as if i were slow; the thing did say "LOYALTY OATH" at the top, to be fair. "Do I have to sign this?" "Yes," she replied. "If I don't sign it, I can't have the job, then?" "Uh-huh." i got the impression she realized it was as ridiculous as i thought it was, but not ridiculous enough to want to deal with some upstart liberally educated upper-middle class member of the bourgeois calling her a mccarthy. i had a few moments of anxiety, thinking that this is the place where people usually take a stand, this is where the line should be drawn in the sand. i read the damn thing again, though, before doing any drastic storming out of any sort, and realized the thing is pretty damn inocuous. i really don't mind swearing allegiance to the constitution, which is a document i rather like; it's much much better than pledging allegiance to the flag. i don't know much about the constitution of the state of california, but hopefully it doesn't encourage book burning or anything like that. anyway.

hasta mañana.

It seemed silly to continue my “cestnice” blog when I was no longer there. Besides, I hadn’t updated that thing in ages, and sometimes its better to start anew. And my objective for this one is different: write something everyday. Some part of me thinks that I should be doing this anyway, that I shouldn’t need some blog to make me do it, I should want to do it, I should be unable not to do it. But, well, in my past, routine has proven the best way of getting results. So, routine it is, then.

I’m in California. San Francisco, to be more precise. Only for a few days, though; I came out here to get fingerprinted and attend an orientation for my summer job. For those of you that haven’t already heard my saga, I applied for a job at SF Park & Rec, hoping to get placed at my old summer camp, Silvertree, but, well, no such luck. I’ve ended up working off the assignment desk, which means I’ll have to call in everyday to get my work assignment. It feels like kind of a vomitrocious situation, but I guess it’s a little premature. I don’t know. It could be the best summer ever!

Yesterday I flew here from NYC. I had to change planes in Las Vegas, where they have slot machines in the airport. I wanted to gamble but I didn’t have any quarters. There were two really cute guys on the shuttle bus between the two terminals. These days, when I see a cute guy, I get this weird burst of mental energy. My mind works overtime to try and interpret the extremely subtle signs that he is giving out about his sexuality and his inevitably interest in me. It feels great in the same way doing cardio exercise feels great once you’ve warmed up but before you’re feeling tired and/or sore. If they’re around me for a while that feeling sets in as well. When they leave, I become very cynical, thinking things like, “Yeah, well, of course.” It’s becoming obnoxious.

On the flight from Newark to Las Vegas, I was sitting next to a couple who were very sweet, though I think they’d probably never been on a plane before. Or at least not recently. They gave a play-by-play of everything that was happening. “Oh, look they’re closing the door.” “Oh, they’re bulling back the skyramp.” “Oh, the captain just said we’re 27th in the takeoff line.” It could have been really annoying, I guess, but it was really just cute. They seemed like a typical Greenwich Village couple that had moved there in the sixties, and never found any reason to leave. I became kind of their unofficial guides to airplane travel. An hour and a half into the flight, I was listening to some music on my headphones, and the woman tapped me on the shoulder, and I looked to see the man’s cell phone on. “He’s not supposed to have that on, is he?!” I told him he’s supposed to have it off. When we got to Las Vegas, the idea of changing planes seemed lovely and novel to them. They were pretty adorable, actually.

On the second flight there was a really obnoxious couple. It really looked like an obnoxious woman who had warn down her husband to a very slight nub. She would say his name everytime she talked to him. “Martin, put my suitcase up in the compartment.” “Martin, you’re blocking the aisle.” “I need to get to my seat, Martin.” I don’t know if Martin said anything the entire time. Poor guy.

Anyway. Now I’m here, and everybody’s working, which is good, though I feel like a bit of a lazy bastard. Hopefully once this job starts I’ll long for the days when I was a lazy bastard.

Hasta mañana.