Wizard Life

After I got back from that hellish drive I described in my last post, I kicked back and went to a party. I have been to this party before: The Annual Man House Christmas Party. Last time, I arrived into a room crowded with upwards of 50 guests, all of them dead silent. They were listening intently to my friend Jason as he screamed out names scribbled on packages and handed those gifts. Not so much a white elephant gift exchange, but everyone gets a gift at the man house Christmas party. Last time I got a balance, like a chemical balance, and this time I got Ninja climbing claws. Always very obscure, generous gifts.

Anyway, in anticipation for this year's Christmas party, Nathan and Matt and I decided to become wizards. Or play the wizard game. No; become wizards.

One becomes a wizard by drinking beer. Harry P was known to down his share of High Life in his later years at Hogwarts. The better wizard you are, the more you can drink.

The length of a wizard's staff is the only true way to measure the apptitude of a wizard. The longer, the better. One will drink a beer, finish that beer, and duct tape a full beer on to the top of the empty beer. The bigger one's stick (wizard staff), the more beer they have drunk and the more respected they are with their fellow wizard brethren.

Matt, Nathan, and I decided to become wizards at this party. One reaches official wizard status when one's staff is over thyine own head. This is all in the handbook.

Only one problem with becoming a wizard: it is difficult. About halfway to my wizard status, when my staff was about waist high, I realized the commitment and responsibilities that come with being a wizard. The commitment meaning being committed to your status. When you reach wizard status, your words become undecipherable by the average ear. You walk with a stumble, and are inclined to grope members of the opposite sex. They are the biggest threat to your chaste wizard lifestyle. And when you are a wizard you are burdened with the responsibility of your choice for the next 36 hours. The next day is usually the roughest on those who are wizards. Hung over is what you lay-people call it.

Basically a daunting task. But those committed and responsible people who choose to complete their training and become actual wizards-roughly 14 beers- are forever more enlightened.

I am sad to say, I was no wizard. My staff only reached to my neck. I expelled plenty of toxins in the form of vomit, only to understand I was too naive to become a wizard that night. Maybe some other.

Matt and Nathan are wizards. Or, they were. And I will forever live with the shame in my heart for wussing out on the challenge.

As the old wizard saying goes: A hangover is brief, and glory lasts forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boU6ztxor6M

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihye6-OCgYQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UaPXV6aTRMQ

Marathon Runner

31 hours. Straight. In the snow for the last 6 hours. And I mean snow. A lot of it. People spinning out in front of me. Emotional basket case by the end. I literally cried. But god damn it, I'm a man and there was no way we were stopping to stay the night. I would rather die in a blizzard than have to live with myself after wussing out and staying in a hotel. This is how I do road trips.

That was my drive from Santa Fe back to Olympia. Summed up. Before we started the drive, my brother and I made a commitment to do it straight through. We thought the drive would take 25 hours. 25 hours is doable. From Santa Fe through Arizona and the entirety of California, my brother and I only stopped to get gas. A couple of coffees and a Thin Lizzy CD had us set. Then we hit the California-Oregon border.

We were 20 hours in at that point, a little frazzled from the long road behind us, but spirits were high. However, the mountain pass into Oregon was status 'Chains Required'. We didn't have chains so we ignored the warning and I white knuckled my Subaru over the pass. We barely made it. Another 3 hours of driving and then we hit Salem, Oregon. That is what did me in. It took us 6 hours to get from Salem to Southern Washington. The roads were in worse conditions then they were over the pass. By the end, I was shaking with fatigue and anger. It was the most dangerous drive I have ever done. Thank god my brother was there to scream at the other idiots on the road. He helped keep my sanity intact.

We made it home, said hello to my folks, and I went to my room and cried. I was on the phone with Molly and I broke down. Now I know how those Vietnam Vets feel. No sleep and a bunch of Asian cars coming at you, spinning out all over the road. I wept like a two year old. I haven't cried in some time, and it felt good to let it all out.

It is also good to be home.

I'm an Idiot

Tomorrow I drive back to Olympia, and will leave Santa Fe for good.

I will miss Santa Fe dearly. I have made great friends, had great times, and learned great things. The opportunities I had at the radio station were unlimited, and I've learned valuable skills that will carry with me to to NYC. My editor taught me much, and I hope I've constructed a solid base of experience to work from.

I have also learned I am an idiot. A stupid idiot, who can't interact socially. Not really, but I've been blowing it the last couple of days. This may be one of those things that sounds worse than it actually is- but I still think it's bad.

Let me explain:

For some reason lately, instead of saying goodbye to people, I have been saying 'good-luck'. It is always enthusiastic and sincere; and completely out of context. For instance, I call some people up for work, people that I have never talked to before. The conversation goes perfectly fine, but at the end I sign off with 'good luck'. People hesitate with confusion, and I just hang up the phone. "Good luck". "Good luck with what?," they undoubtedly ask themselves. More likely- "that kid is an idiot".

Good luck? Doesn't it sound condescending? Yet I can't stop saying it.

The worst instance occurred when I was saying goodbye to a co-worker and a friend. Actor Dan Gerrity is the assistant news director at KSFR. He was kind enough to mentor me during my short tenure at the news station. He is also kind enough to be a reference on my resume. We had a heartfelt goodbye, shook hands for a long time, and everything was going smoothly until I paused in the doorway and said, "and good luck!"

Good luck with what? He isn't going anywhere you idiot. He was shaken up, but managed to mutter, "ohhh thanks, you too". It wasn't sincere. What does he need luck for? I'm the snot nosed brat who is going to a new city with absolutely no experience and no prospects. I'm sure he almost said, "keep your luck you fool- your going to need it".

I can kiss that reference good-bye.

My Opus and Shameless Self Promotion

I have peaked before my time.

Last week I informed my editor that I was working on my opus. The journalistic masterpiece of my career. And I'm only 22. I'm like Keats, who did his best work shortly before he died at 24.

I spent days researching my subject: chili peppers. Genetically engineered chili peppers that will kill us all. People actually think this. I researched both the potential end of New Mexico's chili pepper industry and the conflict surrounding genetically engineered foods. The editor was so enthused with my piece, he instructed me to do a write up of my work. Does this mean I am a published author? I think so.... READ AND LISTEN TO MY ARTICLE.

Throughout my research, I formulated my own opinion on GMO products. Essentially- they are horrible. I went to a forum about GMO crops, and farmers from all over the world outlined the destruction these crops have done to both the crops themselves and on the farmers. Biotech companies have destroyed the lives of farmers, pumped our food full of unsafe products, and put patents on living things. The horror caused by genetically engineered crops is beyond belief. If New Mexico puts a GE chili into production, it will be the nail in the coffin for the chili industry.

I encourage you to formulate your own opinion about the food we eat everyday. Corn, canola, soybeans, and cotton are all genetically modified. And they aren't tested by the FDA.

Read these wikipedia entries for background on GMOs.

GMO Food

Monsanto Biotech

You like my self promotion?

In other news, some friends of mine at the radio station put together the best local music I have ever heard. I will load it on here as soon as possible.

My brother is in town. We are driving back to Olympia on Saturday.

Friends!

I have made great friends in my short time here in New Mexico.

Above are pictures of Kalie and Joe. Good buddies of mine.

Joe goes to St. John's University, skates hard, and parties harder. Every weekend with him is a good experience. He still lives in the dorms. When I stay over, I always end up crashing in an empty dorm room. Last night I didn't have a sleeping bag, and the window above the box spring I slept on remained open all night. When I woke up, there was a layer of snow on me. It snowed throughout the night. Everything in moderation.

Kalie is one of the few girls I've met who can actually skateboard. It's weird because she is more enthused about skating then I am. We will be walking down stairs and she will get all excited, claiming, "ohhh man, I got this. I could ollie this." When we skate together she yells at me when I want to stop for the day.

My friend Pete Gardini's wife gave birth to a baby girl last week. He is one of the only friends I have who is married, and is now the first close friend of mine to father a child. A 6 pound 12 ounce baby girl named Olive Gardini. The birth process took over 24 hours and when I last talked to him he sounded a little beat, but very excited. We already talked about how he is going to intimidate all of her future boyfriends.

On a different note, is anyone bummed about how many times a day they check their Facebook? I check it at least 3 times a day. I remember when I first signed up for Facebook. I told myself I would promptly delete it when I finished college. Psssshhhh- forget about that, Brett. Sometimes I find myself wandering aimlessly on Facebook, looking at pictures of people I don't even know. It depresses me. I thought about deleting it, but then got scared. "How will I keep in contact with all my friends?" I'm like an addict, suckling on the the Facebook teet.

Papa Pete

Cowboys and Recycling

"People been saying that cowboys have been a dying breed for a hundred years, they just die hard I guess" -Miles Culbertson, Director for the Livestock Board of New Mexico

That quote was one of the most well spirited things I've heard during my short 'career' as a 'journalist'. Imagine someone saying it with a rural twang and a potential wad of chew in their mouth. Then you get a real sense of how it sounded. Deep rooted in country back roads.

The reason I talked with Miles Culbertson of the Livestock Board was to get numbers of professional cowboys in the state. My interest in professional cowboys was peaked when I did a brief story about a National Monument in New Mexico hiring pro cowboys to wrangle cattle out of the area. Feral cattle had wandered into the park, and they were very ill-tempered. Charging at hikers and all of that. The park manager gave me the number to the cowboy they hired, as well as the number of the Livestock Board.

The definition of a 'professional cowboy' is extremely vague. Miles explained it to me, saying, "All cowboys are ranchers but not all ranchers are cowboys". OK. I tried to play it cool on the phone with Miles, pretending I understood that perfectly. But,I didn't get a true idea of what/who a cowboy is until I called Devon Canaply, the cowboy hired by the park to remove the feral cattle.

He answered the phone gruffly, like I disturbed him. As soon as he answered I went into my usual and typical monologue, "HI!!! This is Brett Cihon from KSFR News and I want to do a story about cowboys! You guys are so weird and interesting!"

This isn't exactly what I said, but it was along those lines. Most people I talk to are more than happy to give me an interview. People like being in the limelight. Well no, some people like the limelight. Some people, as I quickly found out, are actually humble.

Devon stammered with his words for a few moments and said, "no sir, this doesn't interest me at all". I was taken aback. Until now, people (other than Val Kilmer) hadn't refused an interview request. Shocked, I asked him why.

"Well, it's just our life," he said. "It's not interesting, it's what I do." "I don't like the spotlight...I am a working man and there is nothing special to make a story out of". I explained to him that most people, correction most Urban people, know nothing about cowboys. "Well, if you have questions about what I do, you can ask, but I'm not going to do the cowboy piece," he said.

I talked to him a little while longer, embarrassed I had come on too strong.

After I hung up, I reflected on the call. It sickened me to think about how I approached this man. His job seemed like such a novelty to me, and I thought he saw it as a novelty also. A weird break in a sea of white color and 401(k)s. He must have known that what he did was obscure, right?

No. This man had been a cowboy his whole life. His friends were cowboys. Him and I are different. His parents didn't pay for him to go to college, nor does he want to live in a big city. He doesn't think being a cowboy is an 'obscure' profession. He lives his life raising cattle.

I felt bad I viewed his lifestyle as a novelty. More importantly, I forgot that most people aren't like me; don't see like me. When I called him up, I was used to talking to PR people, people who wanted to be on the news, and I forgot what a lot of this country consists of-people that aren't like me.

So, I'm trying to find another cowboy. It won't be the same, though. These cowboys were recommenced to me by the livestock board. "They will want to talk to you," Miles claimed. But now I think a true cowboy won't want to talk to me. A true cowboy wants to do his job in peace, and doesn't have time to talk to a cashmere wearing news reporter like myself.

We have started doing little video clips at www.ksfr.org and www.ksfrnews.com. I hold the camera sometimes.



I did a cool report about the horrible state of recycling in New Mexico. Here it is, 13:20 in.

Ohhhhh Mexico

I went to Mexico with my cousin Mike.

I have officially stepped foot in Mexico. Finally. My entire life, I was ashamed that I had never been to Mexico. It's quite superficial of me, but it's true. When talking about foreign countries, people would undoubtedly bring up their "crazy trips to Mexico". Something gnarly always happened in Mexico. I would retort with, "yeah, well one time in Europe...", but it was never as good as their Mexican story. Now, if you try and out do my foreign adventure stories, I will throw Mexico at you and you will stop in your tracks.

And now for my crazy Mexican stories:

First, it was snowing in Mexico. I primarily envisioned Mexico as the land of Sun, Burritos, and illegal drugs- but only two of those stereotypes rang true. It snowed today in Juarez, Mexico. My cousin and I got thoroughly soaked while purchasing burritos and illegal drugs. Not really, I didn't buy any illegal drugs, although they were certainly offered to me.

Second, even higher on the list of things to buy in the industrial border town of Juarez are women. For the first half mile after you cross the border (we crossed on foot) every man I encountered would offer me women. They would realize the color of my skin, and thinking I was definitely over in their country to score some tail, would propose I follow him to get some chicks. They offered in all sorts of ways. One guy promised us a warehouse full of pus**, which is intriguing because of the pure logistics of the warehouse, but I kept my head down and continued walking....towards the warehouse.

No, just kidding family and Molly (the only people who read this blog?).

I was surprised at the poverty we encountered. It truly was a third world country. We crossed an imaginary border and into a third world country. The day was sobering on many levels. Yet, everyone seemed happy, and the further we got from the border the more 'normal' things became. It was still a third world country, but one that wasn't trying to peddle you sisters and drugs.

Because Juarez is not a tourist town, very few people spoke English. I would try to ask for the price of an item, in English, and they would just stare. People could say, "English.....No", but that was it. To break the ice I would start out with "Hola". Then I would stare at them for a of couple minutes with a stupid grin on my face, and they would laugh. Then I usually said, "Uhhhh, It's like uhhhh Muy Frio?" The pronunciation was butchered. They would nod and say "Si, Si" while laughing.

Along with this trip being my first time to Mexico, it was also my first time to Texas. Texas was a damn fine state. It reminds me of where I grew up in Olympia; an area of different ideals. People like their land and their trucks, and there ain't much wrong with that.

No truly crazy Mexican stories. But to all you-'I'm sooooo world traveled' people, I just got one more in the bag.

I hope I'm not just making these people up. Does anyone else think people compete in college with the places they have traveled to? Am I one of these people?

Sleep Walker-Talker

Back to NY.

I never sleep walk. Well, for a period of about 3 years starting when I was 8, I would sleep walk. But usually only if I was sick with fever.

This has all changed. My third night in NY, I woke up in Molly's roommate's bed. No idea how I got in the there. Luckily she was gone- had left town for the weekend. All the lights in the apartment were on. The most logical explanation is I left Molly's bed, went to the bathroom (hopefully in the toilet) and plopped myself down in Lauren's room. I did this all while unconscious.

The experience was scary. It was completely unnerving waking up in a strange bed, in a strange room, not knowing where I was. I had been drinking throughout the night-wine- but I wasn't 6 sheets to the wind or anything like that. I hope it doesn't happen again.

I'm driving into Mexico tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do there, since I am effectively out of money, but I'm sure something will come up.

Famous People I Saw....

On tonight's edition of the NYC blog update, I will tell you about the famous people I got a chance to gawk at. Not many people, just two. Chevy Chase and the Hebrew Hammer. Seeing famous people makes me feel famous.

First, Chevy Chase. On the first Sunday I was in NYC, Molly and I met Dan E. at a comedy club in Chelsea. I can't remember the name of the comedy club, maybe "ass cat" or some other whacky name that a bunch of theater kids thought up. The name of the club was weird, and throughout the remainder of my trip, I would call it something completely different than it actually was.

I was a little apprehensive about going to the club. I respect improv. My brother is a talented improv dude. I have seen funny improv. But most of time it's not too funny. It is entertaining, yes, but laugh out loud funny-hardly. Improv shows are usually laden with jokes that are much too slapstick for my refined sense of humor. And usually, improv shows are filled with kids who are trying to put on a little show of their own. You know what I mean? Laughing loudly, being obnoxious, trying to get attention. Filled with those kinds of people. Mean less to say, the thought of spending two hours in the club was daunting. But, Dan seems cool enough, and I trusted Molly's judgment.

It was a free show and the venue was packed to the brim with about 120 people. No one was further than 12 feet from the small stage. As the opening act began, I was surprisingly impressed with the humor. When they brought the whole cast onto the stage, the announcer said, "and we are happy to have with us a true comedy legend tonight... Chevy Chase"! I was astonished. To see a famous actor that close is quite cool. His humor was lacking, but as my mom pointed out- he doesn't have much improv training, and he was originally a writer. The whole show was better-than-average improv and I spent most of the time leering in Chevy Chase's direction.

I also saw the Hebrew Hammer- Adam Goldberg. Molly, Rachel, Andy, and I were cruising down a popular street in Brooklyn, looking for a shop that sold kittens when we passed him and a girl. Originally I didn't recognize him, and and I made a mental note of how hipster he was dressed. He held his cigarette like a girl, I thought. After we passed, Andy excitedly whispered, "that's Adam Goldberg". We all kinda stood around in shock as we were stuck at a street corner with him. I wish now I had said, "Hey, Hebrew Hammer," but it is too late.

Those are the famous people I saw while in NYC. And Andy. He is big in the NYC extra scene.

I also saw the outside of the restaurant in Seinfeld. I may have been more starstruck with that than I was with Adam Goldberg.

PS- I hate how I used the word 'saw' a bunch.

Mitch Cummstein

Brett's Back Baby

Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh. New York City. The Big Time. The Big Apple. The Big Easy. Something like that, right?

God, I'm a sentence into this post and it already sounds like something straight from Zach's blog. Wasn't that like Zach's brand of humor up there with the Big Easy joke? Missing my buddy.

But yes, I have just returned from visiting Molly in NYC. And I am in love. In love. With NYC. Molly is a great gal, but a city like that... what a hardbody. NYC isn't exactly my stereotypical type, I usually dig a leggy and unique brunette like San Francisco, but NYC has it going on. Very full of life. Vigorous at all hours of the night. A real go getter.

Just to be clear- I'm comparing NYC to an attractive woman. Is this coming through?

I don't know where to begin with explaining how my trip to NYC went. Consequently, I will discuss the time I spent there over a period of a couple days. This first post is just an overview, and I will get into the heavy, deplorable stuff in upcoming posts. Stay tuned.

Everyone is extremely hospitable. I was squired around town by Molly and a revolving round table of her friends. We toured the city- from uptown to midtown. I went to museums, bars, and every place in between. Along with molly, my good buddy Jake Fields did a lot of my squiring. He is one of my partners in crime from France. He is a good kid.

Other than that, wait for more posts and more pics. Sorry it took me so long to update.