It’s weird, here’s why: working in retail fucks with your sense of time. Being anywhere with no real windows to the outside world will do that too. When I’m just getting back from skiing on the weekend and step into my store on a cold, February afternoon and the first things I see are bright, pastel colors along with short sleeve shirts and swimwear, I automatically think summer. In fact, I’ve been ready for summer since right around that time seeing as I’m around attire I’d wear to the beach. In the winter. The second the sweaters, heavier clothes and thicker corduroys drop in July, I’m in fall-mode. Weird, right?

With no school to set the seasons apart anymore, every day is sort of a vacation day. And in the same breath, every day is sort of not a vacation day. Still following? Summer doesn’t ever end. If I wanted to go to the beach on a warm day in April, or even October, there’s nothing really stopping me. The point is, summer vacation, if you wanted it too, never has to end. The feeling that newly graduated seniors are feeling right now is hollow. There’s nothing to go back to come September. There’s no such thing as a school night, early morning classes or all-nighters. There’s a new beast now called the nine-to-five. Most importantly, the new year starts off in January, not September anymore.

This is probably where I struggled a bit.

To this very day, September is still my new year. Why shouldn’t it be? My grasp of seasons and time is still skewered because my schedule is still so inconsistent. Catch me in an off-moment, and I might not even know the difference between a weekday or a weekend. This, I think, is what want back most of all. I want the sense of time back. I want to know what waking up and going to work on a Monday morning feels like, as miserable it may be. I want to know what 4:45 pm on a Friday afternoon feels like. And more than anything, I want to know what it’s like to have the same two days off as mostly everyone else in the world. Every single week.

September still feels like a benchmark, I guess. There’s always going to be a feeling of newness and rejuvenation anytime after Labor Day weekend, even though the days still feel the same. I’ll even go as far as make resolutions, similar to what most people do every January 1. I’ll go to the gym more, this year, be better about what I eat, travel more, write more.

This year, I’ll write more.

So for once, I want to write a post and not press the ‘save draft’ button on the top right-hand side of the screen, but rather the ‘publish’ one. I have a ton of posts in my draft folder that I started a little while ago. Most of them were random observations: how much I hate the T, how it would be cool to write a book about why a lot of things in our society suck/why there are so many douchebags in the world, and a pretty lengthy one on why I’m looking forward and dreading my high school reunion. Those never made the cut and probably never will in their entirety. All b-sides, if you will. So instead of writing a post that may or may not be saved as a draft, here is a summarization of the content of every draft I’m about to delete forever plus all of these random thoughts going through my head right now, in bullet form, of course!

- There is nothing like going to the bookstore and buying a new book. I don’t really buy CDs or DVDs anymore, but I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of buying new books. And that Kindle shit is just plain dumb. Seriously, if I’m buying a book, it needs to have actually pages not digitally enhanced fonts and a mechanism for it to recognize when I want to turn the page. What is this, 2010?

- DMB’s new CD is absolutely fantastic. I’m not saying this just as a biased fan either. My goodness, they nailed this one.

- Time for the Red Sox to trade/bench David Ortiz. GASP! No, really. If your DH had one home run, under 20 RBI and a batting average slightly under .200, you’d be pissed too. Moving him down to sixth in the lineup will not do much aside from having him strikeout in the 2nd inning rather than the 1st.

- I’m amazed at the cast of characters I went to high school with. When I was there, I thought I attended school with a bunch of pretty talented people. We were a Division I high school and almost always won our respective football, basketball, soccer and hockey state titles in both the men’s and women’s conferences. A few of my classmates went on to pretty notable colleges based on the scholarship they received because of their athletic abilities. In our school plays, we had some great talents with some students having incredible voices or an incredible acting skills. Even into college I would tell people that my high school was completely different than any other school out there. Now when I look back, I realize that I went to school with a bunch of ordinary kids. This sort of spun its way into my head while browsing through Facebook’s classmate section. Between the girls who have already had kids, the athletic scholarship guys who never graduated college and the questionable actors whose sexual preference is still just as questionable. Jesus, what a mundane group this is.

- Home is nice now. Pseudo living and working in Boston gets stressful pretty quickly. There is nothing better than getting away for 2-3 days to unwind at home. But as soon as day three hits, I’m ready to go back.

- If I ever needed to write a book about anything (my friends and their lives, retail and the fucking nutjobs we encounter), I’ll have enough material for an anthology.

- Facebook isn’t what it used to be. Also, looking at my friends list right now, I really don’t even remember a good quarter of these people. Delete, delete, delete.

- There’s nothing worse than people dressed up for anime conventions. Better yet, there’s nothing worse than people who think you’re weird for not dressing up for anime conventions. Grow the fuck up and ditch the fucking black eyeliner and Sailor Moon outfit.

That felt better. Delete, delete, delete.

I know what I want to say and I know how to say it. How to write it, though, is a completely different territory. I’ll begin to type a few words on my Macbook and then not like how they look. I’ll like how they sound, but not the way they read. Within here lies my problem. I feel like I use all of the same words, always. Just as a test, I back-read what I wrote here, on a blog, and realized I repeat myself and re-iterate some words and phrases. Not good for someone with a degree in this stuff. Further proof of my college failing me by teaching me too much of the non-essentials of journalism.

Anyway, I don’t write enough. Far less than I should be. The platforms are here for me to exercise my skills, but the desire and drive just isn’t what it use to be.

I’m not sure what scares me more.

So here I am! On assignment! At 12:50 am on Sunday night/Monday morning, lying in my bed with the lights off and Sportscenter on in the background. I have to be up early to go back to Boston tomorrow and work in the morning and what am I not doing? The one thing I should be doing. How I made it through college with good grades and never missing a deadline with The Voice is beyond me.

I have no idea what to write about next or how to approach anything, but yet, I know exactly what I’m going to say and how I’m going to say it. This is either exhilarating or terrifying. Ruh roh.

Oh and it’s also 10 am, probably should mention that too.

Now, I obviously love my Boston sports teams and will be listening to the Opening Day radio broadcast on my iPhone while I slave away at work. I’ll attend a few Sox games this summer and probably watch a majority of them either at home, a bar, or at a buddy’s house. There’s nothing in the world like baseball in the summertime and managing three fantasy baseball leagues at a time. It’s the same routine with the Bruins; some of the best memories I have of sporting events or memorable games have come from the B’s. I fistpump when my teams win, and swear when my teams lose. Come playoffs, I’ll most likely be inconsolable when a Boston team is eliminated or go broke buying championship t-shirts, DVDs and bobbleheads. But holy shit, Boston sports fan are annoying.

Right now, my iPod is turned up to maximum volume and I can still hear every bit of their conversations about getting “fahkin shitty,” “the Sahx,” and “fahkin Manny.” I should make it a point to say that these people are NOT from Boston. They got on the train with me in Providence, clearly one hour removed from any type of Boston accent. I go to check my e-mail and twitter and find out that the game was postponed until tomorrow and that these poor fans who think they got an early start by drinking early and taking the 9:30 train into Boston for a 2pm game actually just got fucked over. Royally.

I think about telling the grim news; the group of 7 guys and 1 girl with a pink Red Sox hat no less. They’re all wearing some bit of Sox clothing with two of the heavier set men wearing Celtics gear. Typical Boston fans and their unspoken Boston fan code for sporting events: if you don’t have a jersey or t-shirt for the team you’re going to see, it’s totally fine to wear another jersey from another Boston sport. You see this a lot at the Bruins games (surprise, surprise).

I decide that I actually feel bad for these people and the fact that two of them “totally fahkin skipped work, bro” and will probably have to do it all over again tomorrow. I mean, as much as I suddenly despised these idiots, I felt for them somewhat. We’re all in this together, right? We’re all rooting for the same team at the end of the day. These are the same people I’ll exchange high-fives with come that game-tying or game-winning home run at Fenway. I might even strike up conversation with them in between innings about pitch counts, possible injuries and just how long before the Sox give up on Varitek (3 months, is my guess).

I kid you not, just as I’m about to break the bad news to them because of the unspoken Boston fan code for brotherhood, some businessman, Blackberry in hand, Metro in the other, does it for me.

“YOU FAHKIN’ KIDDIN ME, BRAH?! WHAT THE FAHK, DUDE?!”

Thank God. Any type of comradely I felt for my fellow fanatics fleeted instantly. No, these people were actually drunken douchebags who probably didn’t even know who was pitching today (Josh Beckett). The poor guy who told them scurried back to his seat and ended up getting off at the next stop. Coincidence or fear of the Boston fan? I’d say a little bit of both.

So, my fair-weathered friends debated on getting off at a random stop and waiting to take a train back (senseless, at best) or going into Boston, finding “some bah near the pahk, if there is one” (holy shit, dudeguys) and “drink till tomorrow.”

Their talk quieted down a bit and they became sullen with the news finally sinking in. One of them looked like someone just stole their ice cream cone and proceeded to spit in their face and step on their toe. “Shit, guys, this really sucks,” he said. Again, I felt bad but that’s only because I’m a nice guy with feelings. The rest of the train ride went on and their talk turned into whatever it is they do for a living. I should also point out that the majority of their Boston accents suddenly disappeared for whatever reason. They got loud again, got off and said they would find a bar to drink away their sorrows.

Ugh, all Boston fans are really in this together. I’m off to work now, with no opening day radio broadcast to listen to. This really sucks.

I’m starting an alternate blog I think. Maybe just for sports related content and nothing more. I would love to get a few other sports fans involved in this. It could be fun and would make me believe that I’m not the only one wasting my time writing stuff that not many people would read, rather even notice.

That’s what made The Voice so goddamn cool. I could have written about anything I wanted (and I did just that, alright) and I knew that a good amount of people would read it. The outlet on which it was released was that of the University’s, so there’s a compromise right there, but it would have gotten read. When I was in middle school and had a livejournal, the best times were when other 8th graders would come up to you and tell you that they read it. That’s nice still to this very day. This is the huge battle with writers, I think, or at least with just me. I don’t care if people like or dislike what I write about, or even agree or disagree on the topics; I just care that people are reading.

End tangent.

But anyway, a sports related blog would be sort of fun. Getting some writers together and actually pulling apart stories and writing based on our own thoughts and opinions would definitely work. But as soon as that happens, this blog would become obsolete. I wouldn’t have the energy to update two blogs, I mean come on, I barely update this one. It’s almost like if I put all of my motivation into one blog that will always provide me with tons of topics to write about, it might as well be something that I’m passionate about: sports.

So that’s that. I’m starting a sports blog. I’ll keep it in my blogroll here, and maybe even link to it later.

Anyways…

My junior year, the only year I lived off-campus, was pretty damn good, I just didn’t realize how good it was at the time. Sure, our heat didn’t work, our kitchen was small and some of us made loud noises in the morning when others were sleeping. But we had it pretty damn good. Our location was smack-dab in the middle of Back Bay; close to the T, close to Newbury Street, close to Fenway, close to Despina’s. All essentials that we would realize we’d need daily fixes of. I miss that. Living with four other people, male and females, was a challenge but in a way, gave us the closest possible realization of what life was going to be like, after college. We bonded, we fought over trivial matters, we took turns calling our landlord to complain about the temperature in the apartment and the drafty ceiling. We got by. All while just trying to be normal students living normal lives pretending not to be freaking the fuck out; we did anyways, always. I miss those days. Everything just always seemed to work itself out.

Being so cold and having it snow more often than having the sun come out is wearing me down, i.e., I miss summer. Maybe it’s because of where I work now, but I want nothing more than to head down to the Vineyard for the weekend, relax, go to the beach and not do a damn thing. Fact: I hate the beach. It must really be cold outside. I want all of my home friends to be, well, home. Go to the beach for the day, go see a movie at night, play mini-golf, all things I’d rather be doing than spending my day at an ice rink while my car doesn’t start outside.

Every Tuesday, at 1 pm, for the past two years, I would conduct a meeting for my news publication. It wouldn’t be much, just a simple 15 minute touchbase to assign stories and review the past week’s performance. Now, every time a Tuesday rolls around, I’ll just sort of think about that. I’m not exactly running meetings anymore at my job, but it’s nice to think about all of that in the past. In a way, the Voice’s weekly meetings were my favorite part of the week. Not because I could get up in front of a room and talk, but because there, in that room, were 15 to 20 other students who loved to write just as much as me. They all believed in the Voice, just like I did. That was the amazing rush for me, knowing I had writers with me, my peers that believed in the same thing as me. To this day, the fact that the publication is still going strong with consistent writers and solid stories, amazes me. To not have writer’s block every night before a new edition debuts almost leaves a void in my week. Things just aren’t the same.

I wouldn’t say I miss Suffolk, because I don’t. If I was to write an entry entitled, “Things I Don’t Miss At All,” it’s a safe bet that Suffolk would be all over it. However, most of the things I do actually miss have to do with it. So how can you miss the little things inside of a big picture when you don’t miss the big picture at all?

Ugh, I’m so philosophical.

I’m home by myself right now in RI without a car. This means one of two things. There will be no lunch or there is a grilled cheese in my future. I’m leaning very heavily towards the grilled cheese.

I think my little brother left his homework on our kitchen table. He’s doing long division now with remainders that take up the entire line on the piece of looseleaf. This makes me feel old only because I remember doing long division and complaining that Mead should make horizontal notebooks specifically for long division problems. Clearly, I was a special child.

Last entry, I wrote that the Red Sox wouldn’t make the playoffs. I probably jumped the shark a little bit there because since then, John Smoltz, Rocco Baldelli, and Takashi Saito all joined the team making them a little more likely to be the wild card team if all stay healthy. Also, the Celtics went on a steep decline, the Bruins dropped two straight on home ice and the NFL Playoffs slowly are becoming the least-watched postseason on my TV. Maybe at the end of every entry, I’ll make some preposterous claim about one of my favorite sports team because there’s a good chance, whatever I say is absolutely false. I won’t test my theory on the Bruins or the Red Sox and the Celtics have enough to worry about. So how about the Patriots? I predict that the Patriots will make no major moves in the offseason to acquire a stronger presence on the offensive line or in the corners on defense. Doo, doo, doo…

But more on Baldelli. How excited am I? A Rhode Islander of Italian background playing on my favorite sports team? Well if that’s not a huge qualifications for the purchasing of a new Sox t-shirt, I don’t know what is. I wonder if I can get away with writing about Baldelli for my column? He is from Rhode Island! And is now a local, professional, ball player with Boston!

Done.

- The Boston Bruins will win the Stanley Cup.
Don’t laugh at me. I’ve been a Bruins fan since before I knew how to speak. This is the best Bruins team I have ever seen. Period. And that’s counting the Neely, Bourque, Oates and Juneau days. Furthermore, my dad who is significantly older than I and the only other hardcore B’s fan I really know, thinks that this is the best team he has seen since 1972. Guess what happened in 1972?

A premature prediction makes me say the Bruins in six games over the Red Wings. Classic Old Time Hockey.

-The Red Sox will not win the World Series. (Or even make the playoffs.)*
Good news is that the Yankees won’t win the World Series either. But unless the Sox can pony up and trade for Peavy, sign Sheets or somehow make a big acquistion to add some kind of a bat (what’s up, Hanley) this will not be some type of magical year for the Sox.

*If the team stays as is, as of January 3, 2009, the Sox will fall short of even making the playoffs. In a competitive division, let alone a competitive league, you have to keep up with the Jones’ if you want to be successful. Now I’m not saying sign every big name player who is a free agent, but maybe someone who doesn’t have a history of injuries and an ERA above four. Just a thought. Also, if Josh Bard is our starting catcher, or even a frequently-used backup, we’ll be lucky if we win 85 games.

- The Patriots will make the playoffs, be AFC East champs, and…
Well for one, next seasons’ playoffs will start in the new year, 2010. One year at a time.

- Brett Favre will retire.
Consider these facts.
1) Favre’s running back was calling for him to be benched during his poor performance in his last game.
2) His entire offensive line sucks.
3) Eric Mangini was fired.

Unless Mike Shananan or Bill Cowher miraculously take over the New York J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS, expect another 5-11 season, sans number four.

- Brett Favre will somehow re-unite with the Packers.
Aaron Rodgers showed that he wasn’t ready for prime time just yet even amidst all of the premature talk that he was Green Bay’s quarterback of the future. Favre might not be playing for Green Bay, but if he comes back, anywhere to football, it’ll be with the Packers.

- The Celtics will win banner 18.
Versus the Lakers, of course. In seven games, no less. At home, in Boston, no doubt. Tim Donaghy still has his connections, I’m sure.

- Even if I’m wrong on 4 of these predictions, I’ll still have a better batting average than David Ortiz.
I went there.

When I started listening to it more closely, I’d think about college and moving away and how sometimes you have to leave everything behind, take a deep breath, and jump. And from there, whatever happens, happens. But now that I’m exactly two years and three months older, the song takes on a completely different meaning for me. It’s not about leaving certain locations but rather, leaving certain moments in your life; growing up.

In the past two years, beginning in January, I have lost more family members than I ever have in my entire life. I think the count is 5, a pretty big number when the amount of funerals I’ve been to before my junior year of college would be two. In some aspects, I’ve been luckier than others. But the part when Mayer sings about driving away, and everyone still being safe and sound until you drive further away from a light and into the darkness, seems more real this time around.

I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer. Honest. But in some ways, it’s comforting to be able to relate with something so closely, even though it’s a negative. So this Christmas, be happy. Don’t let life stress you out. Worry about next Thursday, next Thursday. It’s the holidays; no need to not be excited. Plus, Santa doesn’t come to kids who aren’t happy.

Merry Christmas. To you.

Truth be told, it’s one of the nights I look forward to every year because no matter how productive or unproductive I might be, I know it’ll be a lot of fun. The Christmas season in general is always a nice time of year.