Last week I attended a fancy art opening at The Galleries at Moore over at Moore College, where my good friend Jordan Griska had his latest piece on display. Simply entitled Gas Pump, his newest sculpture is a kinetic piece that crumbles into itself over time, and was actually created using an old, 1930’s gas pump. It was pretty damn cool, and clearly spoke to our country’s reliance on gas.
I’m not going to lie to you, Internet. Sometimes I really don’t ‘get’ art. I can appreciate a pretty painting at the Philadelphia Museum of Art or some fancy bronze sculpture in the local park, but when it comes to a deeper understanding of the work, I’m almost always at a loss. Literature, of course I get that. Post modern experimental performance art… not so much.
However, Jordan’s works are always easy to understand, comfortable to grasp. He somehow manages to create sculptures that speak to the more common (ie: me) folk. Their meaning doesn’t evade the non-art connoisseur. His pieces aren’t condescending. They’re fun, crazy. They move and are interactive. He creates them on a grand scale and sometimes, they are dangerous. He was working on his piece Sisyphus when we first met two years ago. A wild kinetic beast of a sculpture, he fell off and broke a disc in his spine.
Ad Infinitum is another great piece, massive tubes painted with electric paint, lit up by thousands of LEDs. Check it out. Seriously.
Keep it up, J. I’m proud of you.
Jordan Griska
www.jordangriska.com
I don’t care what anyone says. Philadelphia is the best city to celebrate the 4th of July in. End of story. Especially when you spend the day picnicking on the river with good friends and gorgeous scenery. Awesome.
Two weeks ago, Heather and I celebrated our two year anniversary. Two years! Two years of traveling on the rails from Albany to Philadelphia, reading books, playing portable gaming systems, and trying to sleep next to obese people. We are living proof that long distance, with a little love and a lot of Amtrak, can certainly work.
This past weekend, as a surprise, I took Heather to Long Beach Island for a couples’ weekend with my good friends Jon and Jackie. I picked up a cute bag from H&M and packed it full of beach supplies. Sandals, hair disentangler, Goldfish crackers, a book, a pink towel… all the stuff girls require for a day on the sand, and gave it to her the day before we were set to leave. Surprise!
The weather was gorgeous, despite the downpours in Philadelphia and other parts of New Jersey.
And I swear, I had the best view on the beach.
I know I’m slacking on updating this blog, but it’s the summer and I’m busy writing, working, and being in love. Currently, I’m busy pitching my novel out to agents, working on a new story, and getting my act together for the Fall semester. World Literature I and Freshman Comp at two different colleges? Can’t wait.
The other day I was flipping through my phone’s calendar, when I spotted “Ship Out!” written on a date in February. That’s when it hit me. Had I continued down a path I chose in the Spring of last year, I’d be shipping off to Europe in ten days, working as a college professor for the Peace Corps. I was accepted during the summer, for one of the highest positions available within the Peace Corps volunteer program. Needless to say, I was honored.
It was decision I was really excited about. So much so that I sold all my furniture and a majority of my belongings, and set up shop subletting my friend Katie’s apartment during the summer. I had it all planned out. Grab some teaching experience during the Fall, move back home at the end of the semester, and spend some time with family and friends before leaving for two years.
Whenever the Peace Corps came up, Heather and I would talk about it, discuss waiting for one another, how we’d make it work, etc. I planned out my 60 vacation days, where I’d spend them, how I’d try to see her each time I came home. Every time we spoke about such things, we’d get upset, and change the topic, usually talking about bunnies or whatever made us happy. I mean, I was sure we’d be okay. I made up my mind. This was it. I was going.
Then something changed.
When my grandfather passed away over the summer and the whole family got together, I was subject to the traditional gauntlet of questions. What was I doing with my life? How was my love life? How was school, so on and so forth. After my excited announcement about the Peace Corp, one my uncles sat me down, and spoke to me about his tour of duty in the Vietnam War.
He didn’t speak about the horrors of the battlefield, but instead, spoke to me about the pain he felt being so far away from the ones he loved. He talked about the unbearable distance between himself and my aunt, how they almost didn’t make it, and how he watched his friends march around with broken spirits caused by broken hearts.
He asked me about Heather.
“Is this one special?” He asked. “Do you think she could be the one?”
“Yes,” I answered. “She definitely is.”
“Then don’t go,” he said, looking at me from across the dining room table. “Stay here and make a different choice.”
“But…” I began.
“Trust me…” He said. “Choose love.”
So here I am. I’ve got a good life here in Philadelphia. I enjoy my job and the fantastic people I work with. My career in academia is beginning, I’m paying my dues teaching part-time and I’m sure something full time will eventually surface. I have a wonderful family, great friends, and a cute, semi-famous chinchilla. So many people that I love, including one very special girl.
My uncle was right. Choosing love? Yeah, definitely the best choice ever.
You will always be my first choice Heather. Always.
And maybe. Someday. I’ll help you shovel snow off your car.
Naomi and JM’s Engagement video from JM Chapman on Vimeo.
Last summer, I hopped on a tour with Forever The Sickest Kids, Farewell, and my good friends, Upper Class Trash. Long since disbanded, I’ve remained good friends with some of the UCT guys, especially JM.
Retiring from the life of a full-time touring pseudo rock-star, JM can now be found playing music with his band Green Green Green while going to optometry school. We talk practically every day over AIM, rambling about girlfriends, work, school, and photography. He’s a great guy, and I’m incredibly proud of all he’s accomplished this past year.
I’d like to send out a huge congrats to him and his beautiful fiancée Naomi, on their engagement this past weekend. Late Saturday night I received a text message from JM, simply stating “you’re now receiving a text from Naomi’s fiancée “. Needless to say, I was all kinds of happy for him.
For his proposal, he put together a beautiful video montage from clips he’s shot over the past year. Valentine’s Day, trips to the aquarium, plane rides, etc… and showed them to her in a private theater. In this 5 minute video, you can watch the montage of clips and see the proposal at the end.
Bravo JM. Congrats.
Mmmmm-mm! Looks good, doesn’t it? Well let me tell you, creating a delicious home-made pizza is hardwork. It requires time, patience, and important ingredients liek red wine, salad, and a Macbook Pro. You will also need a friend who can cook, cause I sure can’t. Thanks Saray.
So graduate school is over. It’s strange, knowing that my degree is on its way to my home in New Jersey, where my mother will frame it and place it next to my high school diploma and Kean University undergrad degree, two other pieces of paper I never bothered to collect in person. Being a student has forever been a piece of my identity, and I’m not going to lie, I reveled in the identity of a graduate student. I don’t know, there’s just something about it, a fun air of sophistication in saying “I’m working on my Masters in English literature.” Or maybe I’m just a cocky, pretentious douche. Whatever.
I had the Dean send a letter home to my parents so they’d believe me that I finished…
Graduation party in September. New Jersey folk, get ready. Philly friends, grab a car from Philly Car Share or buy a SEPTA ticket, cause this bash is going to be in the Garden State.
FTW!
My friends all ask me how I do it. How do I attend the wedding of an ex-girlfriend, without losing my mind or falling into a horrible depression. Really, it isn’t all that hard. As many of you know, I’ve certainly done it before, and in that one case, I was one of the groomsmen in the actual wedding ceremony.
1. Show up. Seriously, you were lucky enough to be invited. Don’t be cliche and throw away the invitation. Make sure you RSVP (I forgot) and, if you can, bring a date! Also, be sure to have some sort of notepad on hand, so you can be absolutely certain your future wedding is just as awesome, if not better.
With the case of Christina and Josh’s wedding, it might be hard to top. They had a beautiful ceremony and a really nice reception. Bravo.
2. During speeches about the bride’s past, don’t punch the people that look at you. Shut up Glen. Yeah, you’re one of those crappy relationships. Just deal with it. Don’t be that guy who makes a scene. Resist the urge to punch Glen Tickle, Stephanie Rath, Jency Thomas, Nick Solomon your caring and affectionate friends in the face. They mean well, and admit it, it’s pretty damn funny. If you aren’t ready to laugh at yourself, you probably shouldn’t be there.
3. Buy an awesome present. Let’s face it, you’re the ex-boyfriend, so chances are, you’ve got several years of horrible gifts to make up for. Remember all those stuffed animals you thought were awesome at the time? Well, they weren’t. Now is your chance to make things right.
That being said, my gift didn’t show up in time for the wedding. Classic.
4. Loosen up. Have a few drinks, especially if the bride and groom have their own custom martinis (Christini and Josh’s Juice). This will help you relax and enable you to dance to Living On A Prayer by Bon Jovi in a “small asian child having a seizure after watching too much pokemon” kind of way.
Everyone likes the Jersey guy who does that.
Everyone.
5. Say hi to the family. Remember the father who was incredibly scary and intimidating? Guess what! He still is! Be a good man, say hello, and shake hands. You can spend the rest of the day dodging them out of sheer fear and terror, with the knowledge that hey, if he does decide to cut you with a knife, at least you tried.
6. Be happy you’re still friends. Cause seriously, if you weren’t still buddies, you’d be missing out. Plus you probably wouldn’t be able to take sweet pictures like this one.
Congrats Christina. I expect to see you at me and Heather’s wedding in three years.
Few more pictures after the jump and a ton over on the ol’ Facebook.
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My debut novel comes out this Fall. You'll be able to download free audiobook podcasts 
