City Series: NYC

I'm on a bus right now to Philadelphia, my second home. After about half an hour of traffic in NYC, I'm finally on the Turnpike on a beautiful aesthetically pleasing ride, while the weather outside is furiously scorching. At 10:30 AM.

Driving past the NYC skyline is always inspiring for me.

I have the world in my backyard. A city sprawling with corporate types, hard laborers, hipsters, bums, immigrants, and everything in between, lies a mere 15 minutes away from me. The city is so enormous, that it is almost unrelenting. An island, a rock, just completely filled with nonstop blocks of storefronts, apartments, and schools. The wide streets form a a grid navigated by energetic and fearless yellow cabs and equally energetic and fearless pedestrians who's second nature is to casually jay walk. Somehow, getting trampled by a pedestrian becomes a serious threat.
 
The buildings here are probably the closest things to actually living up to the name "skyscraper." The Empire State Building can almost poke a hole into the blue dome ceiling above us all.

The energy here is just different. If American culture values and relies on competition to be successful, as opposed to the all-for-one/one-for-all mindset that resides in Japanese culture for example, then the Big Apple is the damn Olympics. Cultural melting pot. Busy and non-stop. And cut-throat competitive.

Japan is Wimbledon.

They call New York City the World's Capital. I call it my backyard.

Too bad that means the Hudson is my swimming pool.

You're all invited.


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Have a nice, safe weekend everybody! Stay hydrated and give your mom a hug and a kiss.

Erick

Memories

Anyone that has grown up as the youngest in the family has a unique perspective on life and cousins. Growing up (growing up includes the present..aren't we all still growing?), I was the youngest of 4 children, me, my sister, and two of my oldest cousins.

I have so many random memories of our childhood that it feels so great just looking back on them..but the feeling becomes sad when I realize that these memories are buried in the past. Yes, we'll have each other forever, but we all have our own lives now. We don't live a block away from each other anymore. And since my memory is infamously terrible, I'm gonna jot some down here so I'll never forget them. Well here are two fond memories that I shared with Erika, Dom, and Cezar. If I think of more and don't get lazy to write them, I'll make another post.

Blizzard of '96

I think this was the very first blizzard that I been through. I was only 5 at the time, but I have some awesome memories of that time. I remember the snow that my family was shoveling kind of formed a maze..at least it looked like a maze because I was like 3 feet tall! I remember having the time of my life just running through the snow, not being able to see over it, but still having immense fun. No worries.

I also remember that Dom and Cezar built a HUGEEEE snow fort and froze it with water. Considering I was a tiny little human being, to me, this was the most amazing snow palace that I ever encountered. It had little tunnels for me and Erika to run through, windows and turret holes (I think it did, maybe my imagination is running a little wild right now) for us to launch snowballs out of, and it was built on a hill, which made the scene look epic when me and Erika held down the fort while Dom and Cezar attacked us while running up the hill like mad men. This scene right here is probably one of my favorite ones to look back on. :)

The Fart Van

We all went to the same elementary school for maybe a year (?). Dom must've been in 8th grade, Cezar in 7th, Erika was in 3rd, and I think I was in Kindergarten.  My mom or their mom would take turns driving all of us to school in the morning, St. John's in Bergenfield, and this fine morning's was my mom's turn.

So we pull up to the 7th and 8th grade building that's separate from the rest of the school. Dom gets out..and Cezar was second..but he was a little hesitant. And out of no where..my mom, Erika, and I all smell a disgusting, putrid scent just wafting in the van. By the time my mom realized who did it and before she could scold him, Cezar slammed the sliding door and was off to class. The bandit made off without any repercussions.

Random Thoughts: The Art of Pickup Basketball

Pick-up basketball (a game of 5 on 5, where players sometimes "pick up" other players to form a squad) is a setting that can be likened to a brawl, fight, or even a battle royale. Minus the punching and hurting others purposefully. It's similar to these violent clashes in that it pits your crew, versus some one else's. Your friends versus another group of friends. It's a battle for pride.

First off, you can understand who has your back. If you go to a court alone and join a team full of strangers who don't know each other, it's likely that there will be one person who hogs the ball or takes too many shots. It's possible that you get lost in the shuffle, as the players on your team would have no idea what your skillset is. But hey, that's part of the fun sometimes. Proving your worth to people on the basketball court.

In my opinion, though, the best way to play is with your friends. Everyone knows their roles, what everyone else is capable of, and best of all, that people will be supportive or will openly criticize (positively) your actions. You could miss all your shots in one game but still have confidence as your teammates will urge you to keep taking shot they know you can make.

Second, when you play with friends who know every move in your arsenal, chemistry is built. I can't tell you how many times my squad has won when the other team may have some better players, solely because our team chemistry is too much for the other team. Just as the Mavericks proved in these NBA Playoffs, a team that plays like a team will always prevail.

But lastly, the best part of any pick-up game is the outcome. The end score. When the score limit of 11, 16, or 21 is reached by one team. When some one makes that game winning shot, one of two things can take place. Either the person unleashes all the pent up emotion that built up during the game and lets out a scream (I've seen players jump into their teammates as if they won a championship..relax now), or the person simply pumps his fist, and acts like he's been there before. The second action seems to be the most common, as one unspoken rule of pick up is to be respectful..but that's not always followed.

Pick-up basketball is more than the words that I've written here. There is so much raw emotion, anger, fury, and madness that could happen on the court, especially under the summer sun. There is also calm, level-headedness, and collectivity that also could take place, and that's when the game is at its best.