Thankful

It is so beautifully diverse 

In opinion

In look

And still so almost-similar

These tenths of percentages of difference

That separate he from his aunt

Create enough space by which

Love and real care can flood in

A life enveloped in family is a life worth living

The lofty pursuits of career and culture

Are not unlike chasing the elusive first high

The needle never feels as good the second, third, fourth, or fifth time around

The pills never as potent 

I don't speak from experience 

But all who have raged with those demons

Say the same thing:

The first taste is the best. 

Yet family can age and transform

And seeing a cousin weep in front of us

Over her lost sister

The prayer, over our food,

Looks in both directions:

Thank You for what we will eat

Together

And use to work on our future benefit

And at the same token

Thank You for the gift 

Of all those before

Those silent, large-looming figures

Such as Gabriel, or in my own life,

Donald

Who are the backs upon which we stand. 

It is beautiful the way we as a people remember

The way breaking bread with our blood

Seems to be instinctive and necessary

I return home full of not only belly but of life

A slice of pie in an otherwise insular group of people

The laughter is sincere

The well wishes are doubly so

So today, Donald and Delia

I toast to your memory

Not a holiday will ever go by 

Where you aren't thought of

And deeply missed. 

The family to me is fascinating

In it's inability for me to read

The family is not something we chose

These groups of people are thrown together without any other criteria than genetics

And from this connection

Comes support

Boundless selflessness

Laughter

Humility

And respect. 

We check in with those elder than us

And bask in our achievements

I marvel at their wisdom

Their prowess for cooking

Their ability to mean what they say

To say what they mean. 

Layla, I hope more than anything at this moment

That your sister and Gabriel are indeed enjoying Thanksgiving somewhere "up there" as you put it

You deserve it, as do they

And today of all days,

I am so thankful to have shared a table

With your beautiful family

While I think of my own

And it's own beautiful moments 

And diverse people. 

Family is all we've got

And it's all we need. 

I am done living in fear

Over something real I feel

In fear of it's rejection. 

Never again. 

Chili

3 can diced tomatoes

1 large can crushed tomatoes

1 large can kidney beans

1 reg can white beans

1 med pkg stew meat

1.5 lbs 80/20 ground beef lean to fat

1 white onion

1 large bar hershey's dark chocolate

4 large carrots

2 bottles of high alcohol chocolate stout

1 large bottle of cayenne pepper sauce

2 shallots

4 garlic cloves

1 cup sugar

Salt

Pepper

oregano

cumin

1 large red pepper

1 large yellow pepper

1 large green pepper

In large heated saucepan on high, add stew meat, and cook until all sides are browned. 

In large pot with steep sides, add crushed tomatoes and diced tomatoes, salt and pepper, heat on medium

Once browned, add stew meat to large pot.

Add ground beef to saucepan, brown meat as well. Finely chop the meat as it cooks, so few large clumps remain. Add punch of salt and pepper to meat.

Add ground beef to pot.

Add kidney beans, white beans to pot.

Finely chop garlic, shallots, onions, add to pot

Dice peppers and add to pot

Add 2 bottles of beer to pot, turn heat to high until boil. (about 12 minutes)

Once boil is achieved, reduce to low for simmer.

Add chocolate bar and half bottle of cayenne pepper sauce, stir and cover. Let cook for 10 minutes.

Taste, add more cayenne sauce for desired spiciness.

Add 1/2 cup sugar, stir, and taste for desired sweetness.

Cook on low for at least 2 hours, stirring every 15 minutes, scraping bottom.  Optimal cook time is 3 hours.

The best damn chili you've ever, ever eaten.  I promise you.

I need a record player as soon as possible
And Astral Weeks on vinyl
Sundays will be perfection
Sweet smells of whatever I'm cooking
Red Wine Flowing
Dark Beer flowing
I believe I have transcended

Just call me the Hoover Dam
Because there's a lot
Being held back
And trickled out
Bit by bit

The List

I made a list of things I want to put in my new apartment
The what-would-I-always-want-for-all-reasons-occasions
It starts with "ice cube trays"
Followed by "record player"
It's not a wish list, but more of a checklist
There's "small bar" on there
And "mop"
More than anything, I want to make a space
That I can feel wrapped and rapt in
The place that is home
This entire journey began 19 months ago
On Mercer Street, between Bleecker and West 3rd St.
Where I had my life completely flipped upside down
Where I paused, looked around to soak it in
And watch as the Pit in My Stomach,
Now completely unnecessary
Was regrettably handed his pink slip
And Evaporated.

You don't need a Pit in your stomach
About moving South, about uprooting and leaving
About desperate attempts to change someone's mind
That had already made her mind up
When she drops you like a bag of potatoes.
The Pit, as redundant as the office worker
Absorbed in the merger
Who's counterpart in the existing company
Already does her job.

You don't need a Pit
When you look around
To see the indifferent faces of NYU students
And realize that very few people give a damn about this
And while you are loved by so many
thankful for this
You and you alone must wipe off the dust from the boots
And take the next step.

There is no Pit
When you call your sister
Your Mother
Your Father
Your friend Ann
And you break it to them
That you lost her
And you probably didn't have to
If you had only bothered to at least
Entertain the idea
Of talking about the Future
And formulate a plan
To move up and onward.

You don't need a Pit
When you start rationalizing to others and yourself
That it ALL had to do with WHAT you do for a living
And a salary line
Even when you cringe each time you verbalize it
Knowing that it's bullshit.
But when the lines go silent afterwards
What else is one to think?

There's no Pit
When you can't eat
Taste buds dead and decayed
Nothing ruins the taste of peanut butter
Than unrequited love, Charlie Brown.

There's no Pit
When you do indeed take that one step forward
And another
And another
And the finality of the situation
Provides this peace and serenity
The cabs and walkers all return to slow motion
And you hit shuffle
Dig the inner earphones deep
And the choreography that is New York, NY
Commences.

There's no Pit
When there's nothing at stake anymore.

At the bottom of my list
The what-would-I-always-want-for-all-reasons-occasions
I have now written
"Grown Up"
It's immediately preceded by
"Xbox"
Fair enough.

Writing Exercise: Midnight Train to Georgia / The Boxer

The city ate her up and spit her back out
And she waved her white flag at me, seething
She's leaving the left coast, limping and bleeding
She's leaving without ever really succeeding

She's gonna root near her roots
And make home near her home
She's leaving and wants me to follow her down.
Always another adventure to see
Always another request made of me
A time and a place she needs me to be
Chasing the girl who chases the dream

So here we go again
I'm buying in with money I would never spend
Leaping without looking at the water's edge

We held a yard sale to sell off some stuff
We put our lives out on the lawn 'til I'd had enough
These things, they still matter; they still mean a great deal to me
Time has taught me that this life is fleeting
And I'm happiest when I'm not kicking and screaming
So as the iPod on shuffle plays "Don't Stop Believing"
I weep.

I'm grey and get greyer with each passing year
And the years start to tumble together, it's clear
I still feel 18
Still feel so 18 and green.

Boy on a broken block

Shuffles his backpack, wears it

Backwards on his front

So the books won't hurt his back

The Tina Effect

Tina is the name of the first woman in New York that I asked out following my difficult breakup with Lucy.  She was pretty, quirky, she liked the same music as me, and made me laugh, and so I decided to ask her to dinner.

After four dates, it seemed forced and strange.  She kept agreeing to see me, kept letting me pay for dinner, kept laughing and saying she had a great time, and also never showed me signs that her interest increased beyond that surface stuff.

And she was doing me a great service, because I didn’t really like Tina.  She did this strange animal voice and rudely cut off conversation.  I also wasn’t that physically attracted to her.  This isn’t a knock to her, she’s pretty, just not the person I saw myself desiring and wanting that I expect as a potential partner.

Yet through this I persisted.  I agreed to a fifth date, I talked to her friends, I kept going on and on and eventually went ahead and kissed her.  It was uneventful and not passionate.  I was trying so hard for a woman I didn’t want, who didn’t want me, who allowed me to pursue her, while I myself did not want to pursue her.

And then comes the crux of the situation - Tina says she doesn’t feel the spark “physically” that she really needs and thinks we should be friends.  Well, exactly.  Same here.  But somehow I got offended.  I got hurt slightly.  My pride, more than anything, got wounded.  But why?!  This is a woman I did not want, who I did not even lust after, who I found to be mildly frustrating.  Why?

Because Me dating is a performance. No different than being on a stage acting out lines.  I say things I have never, ever said to people while I’m on a date.  Phrases like “fair point, fair point” I say when a woman says something I blatantly disagree with, so as not to stir the pot.  I have never uttered those words in conversation, ever!  Louis C.K. says men are 8 guys in one on a date, and he’s right.  It’s so hard to feel comfortable in my own skin when I’m with a woman, because I immediately feel she wants me to dance like a fool on stage, “dance, monkey, dance!” “Show me why I should like you.”  The pressure is on me to impress them, not the other way around.  The power sits with them, and I pay for everything, never try to be confrontational, and am this vanilla and nondescript nice guy, who isn’t heavily one thing or another, and tries to downplay his own accomplishments and passions, under the expectation that I might be coming off as a braggart.

They, meanwhile, in my view, can sit back as the Don Corleone of the situation and decide whether or not to invest in me.  I’m the pharmaceutical salesman of the dating world.  She doesn’t squirm, she doesn’t waver, she speaks confidently about her life and her passions, states her opinions on topics, and doesn’t care if I’m not familiar with them.  She knows I’m pursuing and therefore sits back and gets pursued.

I’m not angry or upset about this phenomenon, because I create it.  I set up that dichotomy and perpetuate it over the course of a few dates.  I set up the situation where I have never been myself on a date, not even for an instance, and she in turn is pretty sure that she doesn’t like who I am or isn’t sure who I am.  She knows, however, that I’m a good guy, and she’s right.  I know I’m one of the all-time good ones.  And in life I’m on point with so many things that are important to me, and I’m successful and ambitious.  But it never comes through, because I was too busy performing.

Because I’m performing, I want to please whomever I’m acting for, and in the case here, it’s Tina.  So a rejection by Tina is a rejection of my own dating style, the person I worked so hard to project, but was never really me.  It led me to pursue women (there are a bunch more, trust me) who I didn’t really want, who are perfectly nice and attractive, but not for me.  There’s nothing wrong with them, but they are not right for me.  Nor am I for them.  But I always persist.

I don’t know how to stop the Tina Effect.  Maybe I never will.  I always know my encounters with women go better when I’m surrounded by friends, because I can be myself, snarky, darkly funny, and passionate.  They can see me get out of my seat because of a song lyric or movie quote.  I can gesticulate and sing and point at others.  I can be me: loud, observant, funny me.  I don’t worry about being “found out” to be a chubby unsuccessful loser, something I act on a date to avoid (it’s also not true).

I think the real byproduct of the Tina Effect on me is I’m 30 and single, and nearly everyone else around me is not.  It’s not the worst thing, because I am totally free to come and go, but I definitely long to share my life with someone, well, the right one.  And my biggest regret this year is letting a few really quality women fall through my fingertips because I haven’t been able to move past the Tina Effect.  I have been so busy performing that I never got the chance to enjoy their company, to soak in the present moment, and see for myself how I felt.  In turn, they politely declined to see me again.  I had it coming.

On Teaching, updated

John Schmitt
Personal Statement
Masters of Arts, Adolescent Education – Social Studies

In March of this year, I left my life as a successful musician and songwriter living in Brooklyn to spend 4 weeks walking the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain. During this time I walked over 500 miles in rural villages, climbed a dozen mountains, made friends with people from all over the world, and experienced more living in 4 weeks than most do in forty years.

One day in particular, I was due to climb the mountain O Cebreiro, the most daunting and famous ascent on the Camino. The night before I had learned of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, and the tragedy weighed on me in a palpable way, so much in fact that I insisted on walking alone that day. I had taken up distance running less than a year ago, and the running community had welcomed my friends in America and me with open arms; we had enveloped our lives in a culture of positivity, health, and support. That the very community I had come to cherish was the one attacked by an act of terrorism only made the tragedy sting more. I decided to “carry” my running friends and community with me, both in thought and prayer, and ascend mighty O Cebreiro.

After 5 miles of relentless climbing, I reached the top of the mountain, and the vast expanse of Galicia lay out in front of me. I thought of all the dreams cut short today, not just in loss of life and injury, but those who had trained for years to triumph in Boston, only to have the race stopped and marred by this senseless act. At the same time I thought of a discussion I’d had with another pilgrim who told me the most important thing one must do upon completing the Camino is to take the lessons home with you, to be the change you wanted to see in others.

In that moment atop O Cebreiro, I vowed to be an instrument of change in this world, to work to educate children on the lessons of the past, and to get to work on it as soon as I got back. I would be a history teacher so this sort of thing might stop happening, so that our children can possibly break the cycle of killing and fear.

My favorite teachers in both high school and college were all history teachers who instilled in me a great understanding of historical cause-and-effect. I learned that by understanding the lessons of the past, as they relate to the present, we can shape and hopefully better our future. I believe the role of social studies educators is crucial in helping form this better future, and I know that this is my calling in life.

Current educators and teachers that I know have told me that this is "not the time" to get into the profession. Instead of deterring me, this sentiment only fuels my desire to take up the challenge of educating our children at a time when budgets, resources, and opportunities seem to be less and less. Now more than ever, we have a duty to ensure that the students are always our main focus so we can continue to better their futures.

Upon obtaining my Masters of Arts in Adolescent Education in Social Studies, along with my New York State Teachers Certification, I will begin work immediately on educating our youth and use my talents in music to enhance the classroom experience. I will also volunteer my talents and experience with distance running and baseball to coach students and promote an active lifestyle after school.

In every encounter of my professional life, whether it be volunteering at Mt. Sinai Hospital playing music for the Pediatric Floor, my work as a music teacher in Palo Alto, CA, or time spent amongst my wonderfully large family, I have found an absolute love of and connection with children.  I am motivated by their positive energy, have a great affinity for watching them blossom and grow, and want to be a part of that process.  I wish not only to educate them academically but seek to be a supportive role model and mentor.  Through my work I hope to stay true to the promise I made to myself atop O Cebreiro many weeks ago: to better our world, one child at a time.