Combine my Passions and Guarantee Me a Memorable Experience

*-Editor's Note: My former boss recently addressed to me over a Facebook status I posted, that there are very specific things in my life that bring me happiness. I realized that I am a bit transparent in my passions, but I feel that is a good thing. This post covers a large part of the things I love in life.

There is nothing that goes better with good music than great photography...

Come to think of it, a good drink is always a lovely addition as well.

I skipped out of work early a few weeks back to catch a glimpse of a legend on the rise and a structure bound to crumble. The three hour bus ride from Baltimore up to New York City was dark, sleepy, chilly, and rainy. I awoke in New Jersey to see that the beautiful Maryland sun that I left was long gone and the NJ/NY region was rain soaked.
It didn't tamper my excitement.
I got off the bus to torrential downpours outside of Penn Station, enough to keep me trapped in the Old Navy store for at least 20 minutes to plan my next move in the terrible weather. I arrived early enough to catch up with my brother who works in Manhattan, but that plan failed due to the inclement storm.
But that didn't kill my buzz for what was coming.
A paid five dollars to a man who was wondering the wet streets of Manhattan screaming out "five dollas! UM-BRELLAS! Five dollas!" He must have doubled as a hot dog vendor at Yankee Stadium with his projected voice and pockets bulging in wet cash. He knew how to work the crowds. Sadly his product was not as useful as his selling production. The flimsy umbrella gave me just enough coverage to walk the two blocks into Penn Station so that not only my legs and feet were wet but really only my head was dry.
Still didn't break my cool.
I sat on the floor of the main corridor of Penn Station waiting for my friend Matt to get out of work so we could get to the show in the upper, UPPER west side of Manhattan. I put my things down, iPod headphones on, and pulled my camera out. I always believe that if you want to catch the everyday occurrences, especially in New York City, you have to spend some time sitting in one location.
Homeless men came over digging in the trash can I sat beside and looked at my camera, then at what I was shooting at, and then back at me. They looked perplexed by the normal things I was finding behind my lens, as they see them everyday. I snapped and snapped away while doing my best to ignore the gazers and to NOT listen to the band I will be seeing perform live in a few short hours on my iPod. (A rule of thumb I put the test earlier in the day via Facebook poll... still my thesis is undetermined.)
My headphones were ablaze.
Fyfe Dangerfield's "Barricades"-- snap -- Friendly Fires' "Hawaiian Air" --snap snap -- Frank Ocean's "The City" -- snap snap snap.

Penn Station commotion

Penn Station: I heart NY

New York, New York, Yankees

Finally, Matt arrived and we grabbed a slice at the pizza joint I had been smelling for the past hour. We caught up, talked about life as we stuffed our faces with overpriced dough and under-flavored beer. It was perfect. We knew the show would be a hike by train and we didn't want to miss any of it so we left early. The humidity poured into the subway platforms, although above our heads were water covered streets with Fahrenheit levels much lower than in the stuffy underground.  Sweating was not an option, it was the rule.
I went from cold, damp, and hungry to hot, full, and sweaty in a matter of minutes.
Still didn't bother me.
We hopped on the A train to get all the way up to 175th St. in Washington Heights. Practically into The Bronx. We jumped out of the train and up to ground level to luckily see the rain had stopped. We encountered two cabbies having an argument directly in the middle of an intersection and to then realize that the region we were in was predominantly Dominican. We spotted United Palace Theatre across the street which is where we would be seeing the great Bon Iver in concert in about an hour or so.
The theatre was old, decrepit from the outside. Looking at it closely, there weren't even signs of a concert to be had there that night. The marquee didn't mention a concert and I had to ask Matt, "is this the theatre? It looks like a rundown church." He confirmed and we went to find a place to grab a beer in the meantime.
I didn't care if I was to see Bon Iver in a shack or from an airplane above the theatre, I was too excited.
Matt and I stepped into a local bar/restaurant and immediately the amazing smells of rice, chicken, and beans slammed our faces as hard as the gaze from the locals upon us two unsuspecting white boys. We sat at the bar, order a round of beers and some tequila, to liven things up. We enjoyed a few more rounds, got a bit of a buzz going, and closed out our tab to head to the show.
We walked through the theatre doors, showed one person our tickets and instantly, it was as if we had stepped back a century in time. The main corridor of this theatre, which was built in 1930 was magnificent. Intricate detail on all the walls, religious/motivating quotations painted under sprawling archways, chandeliers hanging from the extremely high ceiling, and incredible statues surrounding the entire area. It was something out of a Roman cathedral. Two reviews of the Theatre/Cathedral which is owned by the United Church Science of Living Institute both give a widespread idea of its design.

"Its architectural style is described by the AIA Guide to New York City as "Cambodian neo-Classical" and by David W. Dunlap as "Byzantine-Romanesque-Indo-Hindu-Sino-Moorish-Persian-Eclectic-Rococo-Deco."" ... we agreed with both descriptions.

We selected the one beer option available, a tasty blonde micro-brew, and made our way through the bustling crowd to take some photos. The lighting was dim, giving the entire atmosphere a very special feel. Every single person entering the theatre's main doorway had the exact same expression of pure shock and flabbergast. Cameras were whipped out immediately from every stereotypical Bon Iver fan walking in, which presumably hurt the memorabilia booth selling band t-shirts right near the front door.
We had to walk to the second floor to enter the concert hall only to be told that our drinks (the ones we just purchased) were not allowed past the stairway to the hall.
This still was not going to kill my months of build-up to this show.
I chugged, threw away my cup and walked up to the steps surrounded by purple walls and golden trim and into the main hall.
Within twenty minutes of stepping off the Spanish speaking streets of New York City, I had been shocked by architectural beauty, not once but twice. The theatre was just as breathtaking as the corridor. The stage sat far below the balcony as the concert hall was ominously huge and mysterious. Matt and I had the very last seats of the balcony. The furthest away from the stage as possible. The fragment of disappointment in how far away we were disappeared immediately as the band begin the first chords of "Perth" and the acoustics shook the building, echoing all the way to the ceiling which we practically sat at.

The show came and went in a blink of an eye. Each song corresponded perfectly with the venue and the energy of the building. Justin Vernon's words spoke in reverberation throughout the empty and winding hallways in the back of the theatre. Organization of the seats was terrible: odd numbers and missing letters allowed for confused concert goers to need the ushers' flashlights and assistance in finding their assigned seats (although it seemed neither two parties really knew where the seats were located). The slope of the seats left taller heads obscuring people's views of the stage, where as the back seats allowed for Matt and I to stand if we felt the need. We even discussed what kind of headache it must have been decades ago, sitting behind a woman donning her large Sunday's Best hat. The former "movie palace" is still today used as a church which can occupy a capacity of over 3,200 people. The show at times could play second fiddle to the beautiful landscape of the building. It was easy to get lost in the structure and various ways the stage lighting reflected off specks of mirror and glass within the walls. Sitting in that theatre was a dream for a variety of society; musicians and music lovers, architects and artists, historians and theologists.

The final two songs of the Bon Iver set arrived: "The Wolves (Act I and Act II)" and "Skinny Love". Both songs included the crowds participation immensely. Vernon happily requested for the sold out audience to sing and clap along to both songs, respectively. Have 3,000 people scream -per request of Vernon- "what might have been lost" in a crescendo of volume made this concert a communal experience during "The Wolves".
I left the concert hall screaming "my my my, my my my" and clapping in beat to the snare-drum in "Skinny Love" (my favorite song) with the rest of the crowd as we all rushed as fast as possible to catch the last train going downtown to Penn Station.

I might have said my goodbyes to United Palace and Bon Iver in one fell swoop and sadly didn't show my appreciation with a round of applause. But the memories of one of the greatest concerts I've ever seen and at (hands-down) the most amazing venue I've ever been to will keep me going to shows, taking photos, listening to music. And having a beer when it's allowed.
Months of build-up and excitement and still I try not to let any misfortunes ruin my passions.

**Some other photos from that trip from Hoboken: located here and below

Finding the Extremes and Just Taking the Middle Path Instead... with an ice cream cone.

Recently I have been experiencing a lot of small tests in my life. Troubles and challenges that I have to get by, but if there was anything I learned while ordained as a Buddhist monk last year, it is that life’s tests only dictate your life by the decisions you make in response to those challenges or stimuli.

As we all know, life comes with ups and downs. We have our goods and bads, but it’s how you treat either extreme that determines your character. I consider myself someone who takes the positives and accentuates from them much more than the negatives. When good times happen, I take advantage of them and highlight them each and every day, sometimes subconsciously. But I also reject the bad times. I can learn from them, but I don't like them controlling my attitude and personality.

Much of Buddhism is based upon balance and being content. Being level-minded and even tempered. I look at all situations in my life as the world balancing around me. When very bad things occur, it’s up to you to see the very good things that happen just afterward. It’s natural that they will happen, you just have to distinguish them.

As a small example, I’ll take an experience I had this weekend while in the New York City.

I had just gotten off the bus from Baltimore and got dropped off right outside of Madison Square Garden. I began to walk toward the PATH train to go to Hoboken to stay with my friend Drew. On my walk over to 6^th Avenue, what do I see but an old-fashioned Ice Cream Truck, parked right outside of one of the most famous arenas in the world, in one of the busiest cities in the world. 

There are very few negative connotations with Ice Cream trucks (in my eyes at least) and with its boxy shape, its loud, scratchy music and all the bells and whistles to it, the juxtaposition next to MSG was pretty interesting to me. So I decided to take my camera out and take a few shots, no big deal. I asked the driver at his side window if I could take his picture and I gave him my card and showed him my photos. He loved them. I told him to give me his email address and I would send him some of the pictures. His smile lit up the already bright-light of a truck. He was ecstatic. 

He rushed over and scribbled his email on a napkin and handed it to me.
“Thank you, thank you so much! They are such great photos,” he proclaimed in vaguely broken English. “Here, let me get you ice cream! What kind do you like?”

I told him it’s okay, I just enjoyed taking his photo and no worries. But he kept insisting, already putting the cone under the soft serve machine.

“OK, just a little vanilla would be fine, ha! Thank you, my friend.”

“No, thank you, sir. You have a great night!”

I turned away from the truck with a big smile, like I was four years old again eating some black raspberry from South Main St. Ice Cream shop with my dad. The feeling was so interesting. The excitement of a free ice cream cone brought me back to my small town in New Hampshire and my youthful, “little victories” all while knowing the man on the other side of that truck’s window was happy as well. Only then did I look around me and see anything but a small town, but rather the world’s most famous town.

Some excited ice cream customers.

Another satisfied sprinkles lover.

As I am happily walking away I see the same reactions from everyone else in an eye-shot of the Ice Cream Truck… pure adolescent joy. Elderly men were jumping at the sight of ice cream and then even more excited to hop in front of my camera lens to take a picture beside it with big smiles on their faces and extra sprinkled vanilla cones in their hands. Who knew just standing by a truck outside of Madison Square Garden would bring such infectious joy? I was quite surprised that such a simple vehicle could do so, but as I walked away, I was happy.

I wasn't the only one take pictures of this great gig.

That was my high moment at the time. And I carried it on through to the train, and into Hoboken. I had my headphones on with a skip in my step thinking about how I was going to write such a “fun, upbeat post on my blog." Just as I was about to get to Drew’s apartment, I cross the small side street only to have a car lay on their horn and scream out their window to me, “Yea, you F***ing idiot, just walk in front of a moving car, SH**head!”

Their sarcastic yelling barely even phased me. I literally laughed as I made it to the other side of the street and thought about how I would have taken that comment if it were not for my previous 'high'. I felt bad for the man’s high temper but kept walking as I wiped my hands dry from my sticky, melted ice-cream fingers.

My mind works in ways like this all of the time, so typically these “balancing events” occur dozens of times daily and I consciously think about them. I feel that is how I can stay level-headed.

That was my balance and instead of walking into Drew’s apartment saying, “wow I just had some prick scream at me for crossing the street!” instead I said, “I just had an awesome, FREE, ice cream cone outside of MSG. I took some photos, had a nice conversation with the driver, and went on my way. It was awesome.”

Drew and his roommates thought it was a pretty cool story. I thought it was very cool, and still do. Now I can keep that 'high' for an even longer time with my photographs and story.

As for the guy yelling at me? He might be right, maybe I should have paid more attention to crossing the street, but I’d rather happily skip across the street than concern myself with his short fuse. It’s just about balancing it out. And in the end, having a cone of ice cream and forgetting about the troubles in life for a moment are things that everyone needs once in awhile.

What a sweet life is it.

The Tale of Two Matches ~ Travelog Thursday

Have you ever had a profound experience in your life that returns in smaller pieces later on in your life, almost continuing to remind you of that first initially amazing experience? Not de ja vu. Not anything abnormal, but just a moment in time that brings you back. I’m almost certain people have these occur to them quite often, because let’s face it, our mind makes connections with images, sounds, tastes, smells, and other stimuli with prior experiential things.

I’ve wanted to write a blog about all the different and specific places or moments in my life that a song reminds me of.  It’s a common thing for some people to write about as it is quite personal but yet interesting. But I am going to hold off with that topic and talk about an experience I had last weekend.

But instead of telling you both stories from most recent to longer ago, I’m going to splice it, going back and forth between last weekend and eight months ago where I had an incredibly similar experience.

Last weekend: I had gotten tickets to a soccer match between the USA men’s national team and Argentina at the New Meadowlands Stadium in New Jersey. My girlfriend and I went with her two friends, and their boyfriends. 

Lionel Messi, World's Best Player two years running, takes the kickoff for Argentina.

In June: I had gotten tickets to the 2010 World Cup in South Africa with my good friend Colin, his girlfriend Kelsey and her best friend Emily.

Last weekend: Before the Saturday match, I decided to head up to Hoboken to visit my best friend Drew and hang out for a handful of days, catch up with friends in New York City and have a good time going out and seeing parts of the city. I was to start work the next week, so I wanted to take advantage of my last few free weekdays I had.

New Meadowlands jumbo screen with Landon.

Our emotional captain Landon, versus Argentina's great Lionel.