25 August 2004
REALLY, MOM AND DAD, THIS IS THE LAST 'FIRST' DAY EVER, PROMISE: Can't believe it's starting again (but who can? everyone always says that; it's one of those trite things that you've just gotta say, cos it's true).  If you don't know, I'm the communication department graduate assistant at Villanova, which provides a great way for me not to waste away my life as the few grad classes I have progress.  Life has a neat little way of making your omnipresent need for electronic devices even more obvious (I wanna BlackBerry, but I'm waiting until the good folks at RIM integrate Wi-Fi).  Just wanted to shout a quick 'hi'...I keep making promises, promises of updates (there used to be a brief blip here from 12 May 2004 that I deleted) but never seem to get around to it.  We would like to include our thoughts on Senior Week, Graduation, and the summer...and, hopefully, we will.  Until then, let's just say, hey! I got to chill with Andy Roddick (below and blurry) and did a bit of a documentary for a summer grad course I took (here and hopefully not too boring).  By the way -- the summer's not over until after the US Open, so keep enjoying yourself, and we will here as well.

ARCHIVED UPDATES
12 January 2004

LAST 'FIRST': Ok, it's been the fodder of many a Villanovan's away message over the past couple days, that harbinger of something so obvious and inevitable -- why, you'd think someone like me wouldn't sink so low as to mention something like it.  But I think the sheer numerical fact is impressive enough to merit reference in this space.  It is indeed our last first day of school -- and even if you're one of us crazies considering grad school, c'mon, this really is the last time you'll have a set, compulsory courseload to get what generally has become a natural extension of primary and secondary education.  And just think about it...since kindergarten, we've been going through the grind of 9 months on and 3 months off.  Fifteen years sounds about right.  In case you didn't realize, that's -- as Mrs. Dolan says -- most definitely a large part of our lives, especially up to this point.  I was looking ahead through my Microsoft Outlook calendar, and saw the '100 Days to Graduation Celebration' just about a month away.  Time for an anxiety attack?  Why not.

What really drove this whole better-get-ready-for-the-real-world-cos-it's-comin'-soon thing was the letter from Notre Dame High School about an alumni directory listing (for which they requested a 'donation') and also a blatant out-and-out request for cash money for various school/sports 'needs.'  Anyone want to help me donate a couple mil for an aquatic center?  We could call it the St. Thomas Aquinas Aquatic Center...get it?  No?  Yea, I know, it was a lame attempt.

As promised -- I have been working on some new web schtuff for you loyal readers; namely, in the history section.  First up, appropriately, is a Villanova section.  You'll see that within the next few days.

Also within the next few days, I'll be seeing my breath.  We've been having lows near zero degrees here, so the fireplace is seeing more action than Jim Gardner.  Yea, I know, that was also pretty poor.  And if you're not in eastern Pennsylvania, you have no idea to whom I'm referring. 

Anyway, keep warm.  And keep in touch.  It gets lonely on these cold winter nights.
 

12 December 2003

Click here to listen to our communication senior project documentary.

17 September 2003

Here's just a bit of a preface. 

Check this out.  Yea, she's a little older than I am.  But her daughters are around my age.  Eh, on second thought...nah.

I've been listening to Dashboard Confessional a lot lately for unknown reasons.  And I just thought you should know.  The New York Times calls their new album 'the most important rock record of the year.'  I've got it, and it is pretty good...but I think I like the old stuff slightly better.  You know, when it's just Chris and his heartfelt, unplugged guitar and no backing band.  I've heard those tracks on Listen.com's Rhapsody service that Gateway was so nice to provide me with this new computer.  Sweet (but emotionally draining) stuff, man.  Give me a cup of hot chocolate and a fluffy comforter and throw in a couple feet of snow with that guy crooning and I'm won over, and beaten down.

COOKIE COOK COOKS: School is underway.  Senior year is here.  And because it's so depressing -- the thought of leaving this four-year vacation -- that I refuse to discuss this subject at any length right now, except for the fact that a) Villanova (and its inhabitants) look absolutely gorgeous in the weather that we've been lucky enough to have so far this fall and II) I challenge you to find a more serene, peaceful place than main campus at around 2a any weeknight from Monday through Wednesday.  You're on.

Well with me being 21 and all, you'd think I would have completed a circuitous route around the Main Line to da pubs.  Ya thunk wrong.  I went into Erin Pub on a random 'mug night' and it was quite possibly the most boring 20 minutes of my life.  Yes, true, perhaps that was because I didn't have any beer in my system.  But then you have to remember how disgusting I think beer is.  It's too bad, because most of you seem to enjoy it.  Heck, my dad used to subscribe to Beer Connoisseur magazine.  So much for following in his footsteps, poor guy.  I guess it's an acquired taste, much like oysters.  And I'm sorry, but oysters just plain gross me out.

Instead, you can find me performing my civic duty as a designated driver (gee, what fun) or at Christopher's, which just has to be the best restaurant/bar on the Main Line.  For me anyway.  I just crumble into pieces when I see frozen drinks.  Love that schtuff.

Speaking of crumbling, have you ever wanted to have the ability to rotate your eyeballs in different directions, quite like the cookie monster, when soft-baked Toll House cookies are placed before you?  I wouldn't mind being able to do that, and I just wondered if someone could sympathize.

I wish I could pay someone to maintain this page.  Because I realize it's boring when nothing changes except this update once a month or so.  I'd like to get some more pictures uploaded to the gallery, and to complete the history section.  I recently purchased a sweet new Gateway with Windows XP Media Center, so I basically have a TiVo right in front of me.  As you know, I was getting very frustrated with the laptop.  So this is a welcome -- and beautiful -- change, as it completes my workstation quite nicely.  Pictures to follow -- I promise.  I have no excuse anymore!

One more thing before I let you go.  Do you agree with the following statement: 'Fashion is more important to me than war, famine, disease, or art.'  Think about it, and let me know.  It's been my desktop wallpaper for a while, right under 'I wish I had been aware enough to enjoy my time as a toddler.'

Oh, and Andy, if you're reading this -- sweet job man.  Congratulations!  (Go ahead, y'all...roll those eyes.  Just remember Mandy didn't have her arm around you.)
 

August 2003
SUMMER NIGHTS: There is a particular quality about the quintessential summer night -- and it's not easily replicated nor often seen.  Tonight, however, is one of those nights (in theory anyway...that caveat courtesy a less-than stellar weekend).  The humidity is low, there's a couple bunches of white fluffy clouds spread across an expansive blue sky, and the air just *feels* right: you breathe in the sum of nature's parts, and all is good (save for a few pesky things, like life).  It's also a bit foreboding.  Once nights like this roll around, school can't be far off.  Not that that's a bad thing.  But after a month of seeing ad after ad proclaiming 'Back to School Sale!' -- even Chris mentioned the impending resumption of the infamous Staples ad (you know, the one that features the gleeful parent with beaming smile toting a glum schoolbound child down aisle after aisle of BTS-filled-goodness) -- you start yearning for the life of a hermit.

Anyway, I am looking forward to this school year, but we won't get into that in this moment.  Chris and I have moved into the master bedroom of 1219, and we're tweaking the setup now and then.  With my massive desk and Chris', well, diminutive __________ (let's play Mad Libs! NOUN!), it should prove to be a sweet layout.  You'll see pictures of the whole place soon, once Justin gets his scrawny butt down here at the end of the week.

Just a few more summer nights left...
 

ASHTON, MANDY, AND ANDY: In one of my lives -- that of the fast-talking, perpetually college-aged top 40 radio show host -- I have had the opportunity to brush elbows with some popular and established musicians as well as the up-and-comers.  (I was going to say 'I've been lucky enough' but in foresight, that seemed a bit on the groupie-with-fanpage side, and I don't want to convey that image, no matter how much I salivate over Britney Spears or long for the abs of, well, how about Justin Timberlake, for starters.)  That's been cool, of course.  But the more interesting meets have been in yet another of my many lives -- that of a rando sketch, living the life of a 21 year-old, now quite removed from the realm of parental supervision and control (don't worry, mum & dad, we still luv ya). 

I've told the Mandy/Andy story too many times to be able to recapitulate it again for y'all here.  Basically, I sat next to Mandy Moore on the tennis court (yes, that's the correct preposition...we were right behind the baseline) for a couple sets of Roddick mastery and was hit by one of his serves.  No, no, I'm OK.  Mandy was playfully concerned and Andy was playfully pissed off about that.  (Rhyming names tend to make playful couples.)  And I got to talk to A-Rod during a rain delay -- thanks to him for throwing me his Gatorade sweat towel to mop off the rain). See you both at the US Open!

Most of you already know my Real World/New Orleans Danny story.  I interviewed him for the Abercrombie & Fitch Quarterly's Christmas issue (2001) and friends and I have been able to chill with him a few times since.  Fast forward to this summer.  Tai, the Princess of China (or at least of Glen Rock, NJ) sent me on a mission to procure for us somadem' Von Dutch trucker hats, much like the ones you've seen, well, all the names wear.  Gotta stay on the cusp of fashion trends, yanno.  I find this place in Newtown, PA, a city that has to be the 'Main Line' of its area, what, with Starbucks culture and not a stitch of kitsch to be found.  I love the smell of money walking around in the form of beautiful people.  So I purchase two denim hats, and converse with two St. Joe's female employees.  They hear I go to Villanova, but I don't know any of the names they're throwing out at me.  None.  'Oh, yeah...I've head of him/her.'  Riiiight.  Go to parties, much, there, do ya, Ian?

Leave the store, need Starbucks to feel like I belong.  I'm glad I'm wearing the Ralph Lauren polo shirt and khakis instead of the Hollister scrub-wear I was planning to don.  Double Espresso, Venti, whipped cream.  New York Times, too.  No, keep it.  Thanks, have a good one.  Walking back down the street, loving the hardware store with the John Deere green garden tools and burlap mats out sidewalk-sale style.  Glancing down the alley where I had walked earlier to gain a better people-watching position.  Double take.  I know these two guys walking up the alley.

It's Ashton Kutcher and Dax, his friend from the MTV show Punk'd.  I'm speechless, for once.  Three pairs of eyes meet, and for a second, time stops.  (No, that was actually just the Rolex you're wearing.)  Ashton sees my hat, does his trademark head-neck-thing (ask me to do an impression) and says 'Where did you get that?'  I said I just bought it in a store right down the street...probably stammering, still, Ozzy Osbourne-style...and that I'd be glad to show them where it is.  Ashton said they'd been looking for this store because a new shipment of these rare Von Dutch hats just arrived -- and I said I bought the only denim ones.  Arrive at the store, exhange man-handshakes, get thanked a few times by a grateful duo, breathe again.
 

JUST THE FAX, MA'AM: It seems that my 'moments' last about half a year, and for the delay, I should apologize, except for the fact that I don't owe you anything.  It's more on my shoulders -- I should be writing more often for my own benefit.  But you shouldn't be bothered with those sentiments either.  You're interested in the details, no? 

At work I sit right next to the fax machine that spits out press releases like that's its job.  (It is.)  Few cover sheets catch my eye; the ones that do are usually the lame ones -- "Just the FAX, Ma'am".  So old.  So not funny.  And it's usually accompanied by an ornate line drawing that would make Al Hirschfeld roll around several times in his grave.

Well, I haven't left the Main Line.  Chris Wilson, my fairly handsome quasi-Jewish, sorta-Mexican roommate and fellow senior at Villanova, and I have moved into the Abrams Run Luxury Apartments in King of Prussia -- and luxury they are, and better be for the amount of rent we're currently paying.  Mark Trostel and Matt Boyce are right 'round the corner, but our patios face the same direction.  A direction that causes the sun to wake me up around 8 every morning.  So I need to invest in a dark curtain, since you all know I enjoy sleeping in.

For now, Chris and I have our own rooms, but that will change at the end of August, when Justin Adams moves in for his record-setting fourth year with me.  I'll be living in the master bedroom with Chris, since our life schedules don't involve fantasy baseball leagues that keep Justin up and type-type-typing through the wee hours of the morning.

Chris has decided to decorate the living room and hallway with Black & White pictures.  What's unknown is why I capitalized Black & White.  And why I just made that statement, drawing your attention to it as if I didn't trust you, devoted reader and lexicographer, to pick it out.  Dubbs, as we call him, has provided his roommate with a Kodak disposable camera, with which the roommate has proceeded to take 'art shots' in downtown Wayne late at night.  It's amazing he was never stopped by police, for Papa Bush would not have been pleased.

Oh, how I miss thee, Palmer Swim Team.  The lack of tan I have obtained to this point is very telling, yet only a part of it.  I was up at the ol' stomping grounds, visiting last week.  I brought Matt Boyce with me...I think he was bemused, in a word, to see what went on in my world for 13 years before he knew me.  But the vision was nothing that a couple beers at Bethlehem Brew Works couldn't erase.
 

Archived Updates
THE BEST OF 2002

Best independent movie: Igby Goes Down
This is a tragic and horrifyingly dark comedy starring Kieran Culkin in an impressive coming-of-age film that refreshingly lacks triteness.  He's backed (surprisingly) well by Ryan Phillippe and Claire Danes.  It's got a good message for upper-class adolescents living a disconnected life of luxury and those of us existing in a slightly more, well, bohemian culture alike.  The best movies leave the -goer speechless after the final credit rolls.  This is one of those movies.

Best major motion picture: Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers  It may seem like I am capitulating to mass market opinion (and if the lines for the 11:59 show on opening day were any indication, I may just be) but I cannot get over this series.  For three hours I was transported to another world at a time only the mind of John Tolkien and, amazingly, Peter Jackson could dare to conceptualize.  The Rings franchise is lucrative indeed, but the cinematic experience it delivers makes the $9.50 admission fee seem paltry.

Best compact disc: Hard Candy (Counting Crows)  Adam Duritz and his bandmates somehow continue to achieve the close-to impossible: producing 'desert island' albums.  (These albums are, for those of you less whimsical listeners, track-based deposits of instantly unforgettable lyrics and music that are unskippable, even with the fickle finger -- a CD, in other words, that would be on a list to take to a deserted land).  Poignant, funny, introspective, emotional -- this is Duritz at his best.  Holiday in Spain, the album's final track, is reminiscent of the epic closer Fading Lights on Genesis' We Can't Dance -- the best last track on any album, period -- yet not as esoteric, not art-rock.  It's a lyrical closing-the- book on one chapter and opening another.  I talked about being transported to other worlds by Lord of the Rings.  This album serves the same function, only sonically, and continues the long tradition of the Counting Crows' ability to do so.
runner up: More Than You Think You Are (matchbox twenty)

Best songs: I'm With You (Avril Lavigne), Unwell (matchbox twenty), I'd Do Anything (Simple Plan)  I don't really like the punkish, devil-may-care attitude that Ms. Lavigne exudes but this song simply blew me away.  No other song captured the unrequited emotion of the vapidness one feels when love is so close, yet far enough away that it's never to be had.  It was on repeat during my many walks in the rain -- that was indeed me you saw alone on the West Campus Soccer Complex with Avril piping through the Sony earbuds.  Unwell describes me nicely (Rob Thomas and I seem to be kindred spirits) -- I may seem a little eccentric, but there's another side of me that I'll put out there if you take the time to get to know me.  I'm not quite sure why groups like The Vines and The White Stripes blew up in 2002.  I think they were blown -- out of proportion.  Now I don't now much about Simple Plan, or the punk scene for that matter, but I'd Do Anything is so basic and true.  Here's a guy who would do anything just to hold you in his arms or to fall asleep with you -- he's just too afraid to tell you.  That's me as well.
runner up: Cry Me a River (Justin Timberlake)
C'mon.  The video for this bitter song is a killer.  Eat your heart out, Britney.

Best television program: NBC's Must-See TV Thursday  There is no better program lineup on any television network than MST.  Friends, Scrubs, Will and Grace, and ER are all classic shows that add warmth, humor, and dramatic intensity to life.  And the infant Good Morning Miami, while not a classic, is still often worthy of must-see billing.  ER's Anthony Edwards' exit was heart-rending and cinematic.  Friends has no competition as the funniest show on television -- and right behind it is Will and Grace.  NBC has made each and every Thursday night into an event.
runner up: The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, and Curb Your Enthusiasm (HBO)  Think of it as Must-See TV with none of the pesky restrictions that make much of network television seem recycled and overly censored.  Curb Your Enthusiasm is the brainchild of (and stars) Seinfeld creator Larry David.  And somehow, this show is even funnier than Jerry, Elaine, and the gang.

Best radio station: WINS-AM, New York City  New York's only all-news station is 1010 WINS, an Infinity Broadcasting Station.  They are the template for how radio news should be: interesting, fast-paced, forward-thinking, and intelligent.  The writing is crisp and clear and leaves the listener question-free as he quotes stories to his friends all day.  It's a dream of mine to be good enough to anchor there one day.  Plus, they have one of the best radio newsmen in Brian Carey, who got his start a couple hours north of here at King's College in Wilkes-Barre, PA.

More to come...e-mail your "Best Of 2002" lists to me!

22 December 2002

A PASTEURIZED PROCESS HOLIDAY: So I'm back straight chillin in the Lehigh Valley home for Christmas break after an exam week that I definitely made out to be harder than it actually was.  Chalk it up to my propensity for procrastination, or merely the lure of these kids I hang out with.  Either way, there's no reason I should be up until 6:30am before an 8:00am art exam, or wait, make that a rando art exam on which Chris Wilson identified one of the players in the art business as "Chef Boyardee's long-lost cousin" and Justin Adams wrote "this name escapes me" for another one.  Time will tell if epileptic seizures prevent our beloved art professor from putting our grades online.  Earlier in the week saw Justin and I ambling through our Music exam (if you are raising your eyebrows at what you think is a cake schedule, I have to finish these requirements at some point, no?) and, prior to that, blowing up (as per usual) on a final speech for our voice class.  It's all about the research you do when it comes time for scheduling, and Justin and I are the masters at that.  Plus we're very lovable and only charge a small fee.

So this is Christmas.  (By the way, I hate that song, and it was only played 1,343,576 times on Snowy 104.5, which was basically on exclusively from the time the lights and stockings were hung from the pipe encasement above our bay window with care).  To continue random statistics, our room went through (by my count) 17 half-gallons of egg nog since Thanksgiving.  And amazingly, 0 trips to Bryn Mawr hospital for cardiac arrest due to egg nog consumption.

Other news includes my re-acceptance for another sweet semester's internship at KYW Newsradio (where you can hear my holiday greeting on-air this season) and a new car now in my possession -- a 2003 Galactic Blue Jetta.  Those of you who lament my departure from stately sports sedans such as my Volvo 850 and the Passat should not necessarily interpret this as a sign of changing times; rather, it is my sacrifice as I anticipate the coming job market in oh, say, three semesters or so.  Then there will be those of you who say "Sacrifice?  You call an '03 Jetta a sacrifice?  Try driving a 1989 Cavalier around and see how many girls you can pick up!"  But then I'd just call you Christopher J. Wilson, being your old sarcastic self because, while you do indeed have a 1989 Cavalier, you also have a hot girlfriend in Stacy Ryno.

Updates over the holiday include the addition of a basketball page where the announcement and unveiling of my First Union Center video voice-over will be made, as well as audio and pictures from Hoops Mania 2002.  I'll also attempt to work on my history page as I design other pages for the Communication Honor Society and the Zion Baptist Church (don't worry, I'm still Catholic).  There's also an etc. page on the way with some little, well, interesting bits.  I know how much you're clamoring for it.  If you happen to live in the Westchester, NY area, keep an eye out for the four-minute television infomercial I voiced for J&J Landscapes, a major tree- and turf-management company in that area.

As I say in my KYW holiday radio greeting, I'm looking forward to a peaceful, relaxing holiday...and wishing the same upon you, two, three, four times over.  See you in 2003.

November 2002

Call me Aaron Lewis, but it's been awhile since the previous 'Moment' update.  But it's all in good fun.  I'm now happily -- and excessively so -- ensconced in St. Clare, one of the new apartment buildings on Villanova's upper-class West Campus.  Justin is back to share my room for a record third year, and as long as he keeps showering, chances look good for an unprecedented fourth.  Chris Kolb (you remember him from freshman year across the hall, right?) and Keith Dougherty round out the apartment four.  Classes, you say?  Yeah, they're going well.  Finishing up some requirements, and I've also got this unbelievable internship at KYW Newsradio 1060 in Philadelphia.  I'm there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday...and while it's great (I get paid and get credits!) it made me realize how much I miss this place when I'm not here.  My boys and my girls...they're the best.  Bar none.  I say I'm in for a 5th year, mom and dad, so start saving!  Oh, and I've become the promo voice of Villanova Basketball. Other things to get excited for: video clips from that very Hoops Mania and What is CHO?  The semester is flying by, and I'm looking forward to taking the rest of the trip with you.


Archived Updates: May 2002

I would say "finally" to modify "out of school" but that doesn't at all capture how I feel about the end of my sophomore year at Villanova.  As you read in the September Moment update, Residence Life had initially stashed Justin and me, his fearless roommate, in a freshman dorm.  The long story ended with what was the best year yet thanks to our placement in McGuire Hall, where the most awesome guys on campus occupied one side of the second floor.  We were lucky to be moved there.  The events that transpired from about two weeks after our arrival to our last exam -- and I've got the videotape to prove it -- left the kind of indelible memory usually derived only from things like a first kiss or a final goodbye.  Hallmate Justin Dzakonski said it best, and I think most of the residents of second floor McGuire would agree: "I'd give up my apartment in a second if all of us could live here again next year."  Cho.
 

If you think this picture is random or otherwise underscores my penchant for fattening foods, think again (well, at least on the the former point).  That's me, Carrie Lucey, and Danny Roberts -- yes, Danny of The Real World fame -- eating at Geno's Steaks (which will always be better than Pat's).  We hung out with him the night (and surprise, the morning) after he spoke at Penn in mid-March.  Danny got to ride shotgun in my new Passat, so all you ladies can lick the passenger seat.

Never run for trains                     

     I was on the 12:10 R5, the last train back to Villanova from Center City Philadelphia on the first Saturday of this month.  I sat down in front of a large group of girls (of course) and across from a college-age guy and girl, all of whom were in the middle of some random game.  The guy (a freshman from St. Joe's) was quizzing the females: "Try to figure out what I'm talking about:  you have an apple, but no peanut butter.  You have a bottle, but no water.  You have a bathtub, but no water."  The girls look at him quizzically and confused, as girls tend to do so well.  Then he turns to the fine female specimen next to him and gives his last clue: "You have a beautiful girl, but no phone number!"  General hooting and "awwe"-ing ensue.  I've never been privy to such a, um, clever pick-up line.  Seriously, though, how cute is that...two freshmen (the girl, beaming for the remainder of the trip, told him she was a frosh at Villanova) starting a relationship on the major suburban hub of an overpriced train system.  For me, it made my night to glance over at her repeatedly after her Romeo departed the train at Overbrook.  I've hardly ever seen a person more content.  Last train to pure bliss.  All aboard!