Parking, Europe-style

Gotta hand it to those direct Irish folk. There's certainly no ambiguity about THIS space.

And speaking of parking: Every time I return to Europe, I'm still both amused by and fascinated with the European style of parking. Given the narrow streets throughout much of Europe, people park with one side of their car up on the sidewalks... and though usually the curbs aren't too stepp, I've nonetheless gotten used to a *JOLT* right before parking.

In France -- or at least in Paris when I visit one of my friends -- there's also the "touchy feely" form of parallel parking. This involves repeatedly hitting the bumper of the car in front of you and in back of you until you get your car in perfectly with just a millimeter or two of space on either side.

Luckily, given the very long lunches and other breaks the French seem to take, there's likely no sense of urgency for folks to maneuver out of their parking spots, so I'm assuming that trapped Frenchies -- spotting their closed-in cars -- barely blink, and simply have another drink or cigarette or both. C'est la vie!

A glimpse of Belief

This past Sunday, I visited a friend in Mainz, Germany, and in the freezing rainy cold, she kindly played the role of tour guide in her beautiful city.

One of the most memorable parts of the afternoon was when she took me to this amazingly grand cathedral in the city center.

Just in time for one of the Sunday services, I let the stunning organ music wash over me, and I felt in awe and very, very small.

I also felt at peace. Protected. To those that would choose to actually worship here and not just visit, I knew in my heart that there would be a sense of stability and reassurance.

In a tiny doubting corner of my mind, I questioned the allocation of resources used to build this palace of grandeur. But more than anything, I stood there in wonderment, looking up, looking all around me, drinking in the stateliness and painstaking artistry and dedication of my surroundings. The carvings, the color, the stones so cold and smooth to the touch.

If there was a God, this was one of two places in which he would be found... here, and by a waterfall and a rainbow.

Looking back now, that tiny corner of doubt in my mind has intensified. I think back to the audacity of it all, the blatant buying of closeness to the Lord through physical artifices. I reflect upon the great harm that the Church has perpetrated throughout history. Misogyny, murder, and more.

And yet I still wish I could Believe. For a few moments, standing within that great sanctuary, I was one with the powerful rumble of the organ, with the wafting voices of the minister and congregation, completely enveloped by the solid walls that had stood for nearly than three quarters of a millenium.

Something larger than myself. If only it could be something else.

I want to Believe.

I have a lack of belief and heros in my life.

I am agnostic, refusing to pledge allegiance to a God who is alternately merciful and cruel, or at best, indifferent.

I do not worship celebrities of any sort, for I cannot fathom how throwing a ball or saying scripted lines makes someone worthy of my high respect.

Politicians, too, fail to inspire me. As is commonly noted, those who are least worthy of leading often take (or, in some cases, steal) the scepter. The fact that a recent poll has identified George Bush as the most admired American merely shows that others have sadly mistaken Power for Heroism.

I believe in myself, and I believe in friends that inspire me. I know them, I trust them, I believe in what they do and who they are. Through little things and big things... it is both my friends' goodness and intent that inspires, because I can see, know, and feel this in my heart.

Nonetheless, since I was little, I've craved for the Beliefs and Heroes I could neither justify nor connect with. While millions of others around me enjoyed happiness and strength from those they admired from afar, I had contrastingly only puzzlement and sometimes disdain.

How could one so admire a person who took more than they contributed? Someone showered with adulation and 'respect' and paid millions not due to their innate goodness or meaningful contributions to society, but rather for merely their empty words and movements and glances?

Years ago, as the Internet swelled, I optimistically assumed that great art, kind souls, and Truth would cut through the stale offerings of mass media and publishers and make itself known and loved throughout the world.

I was, clearly, naive and wrong. After 400 years in Internet time, Britney Spears and her clones still reign supreme. While true gems are there to appreciate on the Internet, they are for the most part still buried, unappreciated, often undiscovered.

And so today, even via the Internet, we still have fabricated and false Heroes rather than examples of people from whom we can universally and deeply admire. Where is Gandhi? Where is Florence Nightingale?

I want to believe in someone real. I know they're out there, and I hear of the random heroic Jane Doe and John Smith every so often. This one started an organization for at-risk kids, this one donated a thousand books a year to a small library, and so on.

But I greedily want something more... someone innately good AND larger than life. A Hero, someone to worship and adore in conjunction with others. After all, there's a strange but real safety and comfort being in sync with others' beliefs... worshipping the same hero or Hero, nodding in silent understanding, not finding a more lonely path.

This, I'm sure, is why so many people believe in God.

If only I could. It would be so much easier, so comforting.

I want to Believe. But at the moment, I cannot.

I hope 2003 will be different.

How I spent New Year's Day

Last night, I ate lots and lots of alcohol-filled chocolates, yet I wasn't tired enough to go to bed until about 5am.

Imagine my surprise, then, when after a vivid dream I woke up and saw "7:07" on my alarm clock. Ack! It was still dark and I had apparently gotten just over two hours of sleep, yet I wasn't tired... and now I had to use the bathroom.

After grumbling in bed for a short while, I gruntily trudged out of my room, managed my business, and then noticed my roommate laying lazily in bed, with her door dumbly open.

"Do we have any pancake mix left?" she queried. Wow, it was not even 8:00, and she was already thinking about making breakfast on her day off. Strange.

Not content to simply flop directly back into bed, I decided to check my e-mail for a moment.

WHOA! My screen was littered with instant messages, and my mailbox was full! How could this be? After all, it was only 7:28........PM?!?!?!?!?

Truth or Consequences

I just discovered that there is a city called "Truth or Consequences" in New Mexico. Really.

How would someone come up with a name like this?!

How I spent my New Year's Eve

5:00pm: Realize that all friends already have plans for New Year's Eve and that I should have made plans, too.

5:30pm: Have eaten only a Powerbar, a handful of nuts, and some alcohol-filled chocolates all day since 5am. Must have burrito.

5:40pm: Arrive at favorite burrito place, find it's closed.

5:50pm: Try second-fav place. No parking.

6:03pm: Decide to try new burrito place. It closed at 6pm.

6:13pm: Find yet another burrito place (I'm determined) and bring it home to enjoy a celebratory meal alone.

7:00pm: Feel like going to sleep from jet lag. Eat more alcohol-filled chocolates instead.

7:22pm: Get text message from friend in Europe. He had a great party, hope I did, too. My air purifier shrieks, and decides to take the rest of 2002 off. Probably 2003, too.

8:00pm: Begin working on music composition, "Auld Lang Sign." Have a full four hours to finish and post it before midnight, no expected interruptions.

8:47pm: Friend from Holland calls. He just got back from an awesome New Year's Eve bash. So what am I doing home, he asked? I eat more chocolates.

9:10pm: E-mail: "You have a new bill [from American Express]." I realize I may have to sell my remaining European chocolates to avoid bankruptcy.

9:11pm: E-mail: "Get a bigger c.o.c.k. now!!!!!" Like I have a lot of use for that tonight.

10:05pm: Friend IM's me. He's depressed. He's really, really depressed. His ex-girlfriend told him that she hates him, she doesn't know why she ever got with him, and she wouldn't care if she dies. At least she can't be faulted for beating around the bush. So he absolutely positively knows where he stands, but he can't stop crying. For three months.

11:45pm: My friend, currently on the east coast, decides to cry on his pillow and says goodnight to me. Realizing that I can barely help myself, much less my friend (and so many other folks who seem to depend upon me for advice and comfort), I decide to cry sitting up. I can be more productive that way at least. Besides, I do my best music composing when I cry.

Midnight: Happy New Year... my first anti-social one in more than 5 years. My song isn't finished. I'm tired. My floor is still strewn with the stuff (mostly chocolates) I dumped from my luggage on Tuesday. My bed is serving as a combination desk and clothes hamper. And I realize I have so much yet to say and do.

2003 will be better. It must.

Winning a girl's heart... almost

So I was in this loud and fun bar in Germany last week with a couple of friends, and this one really cute girl somewhat nearby me kept looking at me and smiling, poking her friends to say something, looking back, and so on.

I smiled back, of course, and was tempted to actually go over and buy her a drink or something equally chivalrous/stereotypical/dumb, when she leaned over and said something to me.

I understand some German, but it's been years since I lived in Germany and it was hard to hear her over the din. I politely asked her to repeat what she said, and she did so, but I was still puzzled.

One of the friends I was with noticed the confusion and helpfully translated. "She wants you to take a picture of her and her friends" he said.

Now I was even more confused. I didn't have a camera (my wonderful Olympus 3030z was stolen in Estonia and not yet replaced), so I didn't know what she could be talking about.

Then, as I realized that I was holding my somewhat-biggish Palm phone in my hands, it hit me. She thought I had one of those camera phones!

I explained back to her that, sorry, it was a Palm phone, not a camera phone. Blank look. I clarified, no, it cannot take pictures.

She looked at me with an expression of distinct disappointment after learning that I had a geek phone, not a camera phone. It was clear that being able to surf the net and access my appointments and to do list and even play Bejeweled wouldn't win back her interest or attention.

I went back to drinking with my friends, humbled, saddened, and single.