Natalie Portman has managed to escape the trap

Jordanna Brewster is yet another tragic example of overeducated attractive 20 actors who seems to have some kind of magnetic pull to the shittiest movies ever made. With an illustrious career spanning from The Fast and The Furious to Fast and Furious, Jordanna Brewster wins the "Biggest Waste of a Yale education" for 2009.

What Makes Me The Exception?

If you actually listen to the lyrics "Hey Ya" is a pretty sad song. I was thinking about this as it popped up on my iPod as I was enjoying the New York sunshine. The freakier part was that I even said to myself, "I'm sure nobody gave a shit about this song's lyrics referring to a failing relationship between two people convincing themselves that they're happy when they know they're not. They probably just wanted to dance."

Smash cut to the next line, Andre 3000 saying that we didn't want to hear him and that we just wanted to dance.

Prophetic words from the Love Below.

They Know Not What They Do

Dogs on the subway should be banned. Especially when they piss on it. The only pissing on the subway should occur by animals who truly can't help themselves. You know, Fordham students.

If this new mobile blogger works, I night be able to succesfully avoid Twitter without appearing like a cranky Luddite.

Is it satire if you admit it?

Because a grew up outside of New York City, I've always had an idealized view of this city and what it means to leave here. Once I started NYU, I had free reign to enact all my deepest New York fantasies. I wandered aimlessly around Greenwich Village, spent many a lost afternoon in Central Park, and have sat with a huge grin affixed to my face for hours sitting in Tompkins Square Park. Now that I have a job, I don't get the time to just amble about New York, especially since I reverse commute out of the city into the suburbs for work and need particular reasons to venture out of my apartment after 8:00 PM. Ironically, I leave my apartment later and come back earlier working in the suburbs than when I've lived and worked in Manhattan. And since I use most of my commuting time to read/listen to podcasts of Fareed Zakaria and other Yale educated guys who say things like:

"Though a few junk bond issuers have tapped the market, part of the demand may have come from funds “gambling for resurrection”, ie, taking a big risk for high yields in a desperate bid to offset losses elsewhere."

I'd say it's a net positive.

The odd thing is that when I picture idealized Manhattan weekends, they almost always involve Midtown East, specifically the area around 57th and 5th. This is a recurring image, and I can't fully explain it. It's existed for a long time, but I have no idea why. There is nothing particularly exciting about this neighborhood. In fact, its exceedingly corporate. As a unrepentant capitalist, you'd think I'd be OK with that, but I am a big fan of compartmentalizing, so when I fantasize about Manhattan I'd prefer it be really bohemian, involving me hanging out in dimly lit TriBeCa hotspots with editorial assistants from Elle and talking about Damon Runyon. But I can't help it--my ideal weekends always flash in my mind with the image of that part of the city that features Henri Bendel and Apple stores. I see other parts too, but this feature is extremely prominent. I wonder what it means.

You've probably guessed, but I never, ever, edit my blog. Everything here is written stream of consciousness style, like James Joyce. In fact, I've not ever gone back and checked for consistency or grammar in any of the 160+ posts I've written on here. This blog is the closest thing that exists to a portal to my mind, and I write in the same style all the time, from e-mails to personal conversations. I wish I had the discipline to update it more frequently, and I'll certainly try. I like writing in here, if for no other reason than it is a record of who I was at the different parts of my life.

Thanks for Blessings Received and Forthcoming

It's been a while, but I've been busy at work and I don't feel like you yelling at me about it. Give me a break, Daddy's been busy. But I promise I'll make it to your piano recital.

Thanksgiving was, as it always is, a full stomached affair. We've come to Connecticut from Manhattan (and previously Long Island) for Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. It is one of the few things that my family has that I would consider a tradition. Our friends in Connecticut are gracious enough to host us while we eat all their food and drink all their wine. But perhaps most importantly, we actually do sit and give thanks.

I consider myself lucky that my family was big on instilling in my sister and I a sense of gratitude and appreciation for the things we have and how comfortable our life is. Of course, these comforts were achieved by dint of hard work and are richly deserved, but its surely worth reflecting upon that we are lucky to live in a country that opens is arms to immigrants and provides them with a way to make a better life for their families. While we glance at the TV and see the terror taking place in our homeland, our heart weeps for those that died, and we have to remember that the promises of a better life for the next generation is not yet inevitable.

But we will make it so.

Look Back In Kindness

Not to overplay it, but when historians look back at our age and try to divine what we thought about the world, I'd hope they look at this commercial. I think it is our best representation