Nealmeister

Nope, Neal didn't fall off the face of earth

I've been thinking long and hard for a while whether I really want to blog any more. Blogging was great as a student; the medium naturally dovetailed from my daily journaling habit--a habit that I started in the 5th grade. That was 1991. This is 2009, when, more than ever, the personal lives are becoming ever more public. Social norms are changing -- at least somewhat -- and the minds of that Zuckerman kid and the rest of the crew at Facebook are foaming at the mouth, waiting for the day that we all jump the private-public divide and provide people with all of the intimate consumer data that they've so desperately wanted. When that day comes, I hope I can take part in the Facebook IPO. And when that day comes, I'll be just a little sad, because it means that shows like "The Real World" and the idea of living a private life might be bookmarks in history.

I digress. Really, since the last time I've posted, I've moved to Chicago, feeling out the new bearings, training for (and successfully running) races, playing host and feeling great being hosted. I now have a beard -- that won't be lasting for much longer -- but I think the point that I'm trying to make is that I've outgrown blogging just like I felt as though I needed to grow out of Boston.

Alas, good things are too hard to give up. So I'm going to give this whole thing another try. Rework the medium. So stay tuned.

In the meantime, here's something that will do the trick: every single status update from yours truly on Facebook between the end of August (when I left Boston) and yesterday (when Jess and I finished up our nice little urban adventure in Chicago). My life is not any more interesting as yours. The thing is, I guess I'm willing to put it out there for you to judge.

On Facebook, Neal Boyle...

1. walked 9.17 miles through Chicago with Jess Stankus today. Urban adventures=major success. (11 hours ago)
2. and Jess decided to go down and visit The Bean in Millennium Park at about Sunset. Then, we decided to walk to the Magnificent Mile, which lead to a walk to Rachie's Starbucks, and which finally resulted in a walk all the way back to Andersonville. 9.17 miles. 1320.5 calories burned. I'm impressed with ourselves. (Yesterday at 21:20)
3. will be putting some Charlie's Ale House into his belly. The sun is shining in Chicago. The Bears are owning the Browns. ND is climbing in the rankings. The occupants of 1350 West Winnemac are relishing in another amazing Halloween. So much to be happy about; so little space to express the glee.(Yesterday at 14:20)
4. Halloween has turned into something made for TV... seriously... (Sat at 22:35)
5. Go Irish! Beat Cougars! (Sat at 08:47)
6. Hands-down quote of the night @Bessye: "It's not about getting it right; it's about getting it easy." (Fri at 21:02)
7. feels and looks like he belongs on That 70s Show... and it's only B-list Halloween costume night!
8. (Fri at 18:06)
9. Evacuate the free weights floor, people! There is a Neal Boyle twin on the floor, and the real one will be damned to let the impersonator out-do him in the medicine ball push up contest... (Fri at 15:37)
10. has a yummy-smelling pumpkin... (Fri at 12:09)
11.  doing up more touristy Chicago stuff in the Loop with the East Coast girls. Sears Tower Skywalk it is!
12. (29 October at 13:22 )
13. called 312-867-5309 (29 October at 01:10)
14. This Boyle is (too shy to be) made for live Karaoke @ Cubby Bear... (28 October at 23:49)
15. @ Goose Island BrewCo w/the Boston (and VA) girls, doing up TGIW in Wrigleyville. Go Phillies!!! (28 October at 19:33)
16. Korean BBQ followed by Chicago Brauhause in Lincoln Sq = getting set up for a wicked amazing night on the far north side! (27 October at 19:28)
17. is happy that the 6-year old inside of him continues to live the dream and never grows tired of the way 2700 series Budd subway cars race along elevated tracks in the north side of Chicago...(27 October at 17:31)
18. clerked for a Bankruptcy Court judge. Is "Introduction to Federal Court" really necessary? Can someone please slam me with a Federal Rule Book? Ok, not really... but the hyperbolic Facebook nonsense is irresistible, especially during Illinois MCLEs! (27 October at 08:04)
19. earnestly awaits the arrival of Kristyn+Denise in the Windy City, but first, not without 10 more hours of Illinois CLE amazingness. If only Mitch from Old School would show up, too. Life would be nearly complete. (27 October at 00:15)
20. Oh, CTA, how you can't be trusted during rush hour. Thank God Neal got on the Red Line before it decided to run express to Lake... (26 October at 06:50)
21. wonders when the Red Line will ever roll on in to Argyle station... (26 October at 06:33)
22. thinks seasonal influenza is--like a couple of logs in the fire or a fresh Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie--a special gift from God that Neal just needs to snuggle up with and enjoy. (25 October at 23:27)
23. along the brittle treacherous bright streets / of memory comes my heart singing like / an idiot whispering like drunken man / who(at a certain corner suddenly)meets / the tall policeman of my mind. (25 October at 09:56)
24. watching the Undertones at the Notre Dame Bookstore with Kev+Jess. Booyah! (24 October at 19:43)
25. Go IRISH! Beat Eagles! (24 October at 11:52)
26. Are you questioning my badassedness? I mean have you seen my guns??? (22 October at 23:18)
27. Thoughts+Prayers are with the Hoells and the Santosuossos right now... (22 October at 10:18)
28. has got two extra BC/ND tickets, courtesy of Jess. Anyone want to make a trip from Boston and/or any Domers in need? (21 October at 20:18)
29. can rock the beard in a pinstripe suit, a form fitting shirt and a Brooks Brother tie. Bad, Neal, very very very bad (albeit, delicious, haha)! (21 October at 13:34)
30. Are you a coffee, or are you a slice of pumpkin pie? You're too delicious to be just a latte. You're pie. I love you. (20 October at 17:41)
31. is looking for another race to train for. All you runners and triathloners were right: the adrenaline rush is... addictive. (19 October at 20:19)
32. might have run the Urbanathlon, but man, oh man, that massage followed by some old school pampering needs to be scheduled ASAP. Neal=can't walk="hilarious". (19 October at 00:41)
33. Notre Dame, what a shame. Whatever, I still am crazy in love with the alma mater... (17 October at 19:34)
34. Men's Health Urbanathlon 2009. What? WHAT! Thanks to all you folks who kept me running, to all the causes that kept me inspired, and all the other runners who kept things honest. Now, it's time to celebrate Domer style. GO IRISH! BEAT TROJANS! (17 October at 12:19)
35. Here it comes. 12-mile course. 1-mile Soldier Field stadium stairclimb. 5 challenging urban bootcamp obstacles. There's only one Neal. There's only one Men's Health Urbanathlon. And holy cow, racer #2081 is going to tear her up tomorrow morning! (16 October at 16:31)
36. Based on Facebook, I gather that (a) it's blizzarding in Boston, (b) everyone's traveling to South Bend (Go Irish; Beat Trojans!) and (c) Falcon is awesome because he hid in the box and not the balloon. Me? I'm Facebooking. (16 October at 07:22)
37. and Rach finally broke down and turned on the heat. It is a little chilly in Chicago, after all... (15 October at 18:01)
38. What? Bob Saget is the voice of "How I Met Your Mother?" But I've been watching HIMYM for how many years now? Doh! Neal, oh Neal... (14 October at 23:30)  
39. ...planning on a walk through Andersonville, right after CPK and Glee. Pre-MH Race, no-caffeine, no-beer Nealski = no funski. (14 October at 20:59)
40. Woot and Woot! The Townies are headed to the Windy City come December! Go Celtics! (14 October at 12:31
41.  Illinois plates on the Corolla. Goodbye Bay State; Hello Land of Lincoln. Next up: Illinois Supreme Court swearing-in... followed by plotting a strategy to acquire a Jeep Wrangler. (13 October at 16:24)
42. Tuesday, Tuesday, so good to me... (13 October at 08:38)
43. got to Chicago just in time for the 'L' fare hikes, which seem to be whole heck of a lot less merciful than those going on at the 'T'. (12 October at 11:32)
44. ...capping off a wicked awesome, random Columbus Day weekend marked by, among other things, a Bartling visit, a visit to Das Boot, and that little 26.2 mile race with some Phillies baseball (not really sure where or when I became a Phillies fan, but it seems to work), a little more meatloaf, and whole heck of a lot of grape soda... (11 October at 23:15)
45. cheering Jim+Colleen Bartling and the St Greg's HS kids on at Mile 8 of the Chicago Marathon! [p.s.--it's 29 degrees here!!] (11 October at 07:00)
46. So, The Cranberries are playing in Chicago @ The Riviera Theatre on November 25th. Anyone want to go with Nealski? You know you want to sing along to Linger followed by Zombie... (08 October at 20:59)
47. ...with so much going down, he often wonders what really is up... (08 October at 01:12)
48. forecasting snow in Chicago on Sunday. But wait, the foliage is still (basically) green! This is penitence for Neal's shortcomings... (07 October at 21:42)
49. Alas, networking and catch-up coffees. I've got Mr Holte and Ms Martinez to thank for the plenteous rain! (07 October at 14:46)
50. is witnessing music being made @Tonic Room, 2447 N Halsted. Chicago's music scene beats Boston. Sorry, kids, the Bean just don't compare... (06 October at 22:52)
51. Life as a Corporate Attorney on sabbatical is wicked stressful, thusly, I'm off to the gym (and later, to Tonic Room on Halsted, if anyone's interested or inclined). (06 October at 16:31)
52. can't decide whether he wants to keep the faux beard or lose the faux beard. These are times when polling the Clery's TGIW crew would be necessary and appropriate. (06 October at 06:43)
53. Lie to Me, baby (and Brett Favre, grrr, you're making Lauren Lynch go madddd)! (05 October at 22:27)
54. The Bears, followed by Lake Shore run, St. A's, and then legs day @ Cheetah Gym. Perfect autumn afternoon in Chicago... (04 October at 14:09)
55. Holy crap... squeaked that one by! Go Irish! (03 October at 18:46)
56. On the Indiana Toll Road en route to the 'Bend. Go Irish! Beat Huskies! (03 October at 10:00)
57. Great job, Rio! "Now the village elders can come home [to Chicago] and take care of the kids being killed on [Chicago's] streets and focus on getting [Chicago's] schools in order..." (02 October at 12:00) ·
58. Go Cubs Go! (Hopefully no rain delay) (01 October at 18:27)
59. When in Chicago, do as Chicagoans do!?!?! (01 October at 18:16)
60. It's official— I passed the Illinois Bar. Thankfully, because of the love + support of all you friends, family, fans, and even enemies. Y'all put up with a lot this summer, including that horrible prayer for perpetual summer rain . But, alas, ring in Fergie + the Black Eyed Peas... and Go, Cubs, Go (with John, Hillary + Alan)!!! (01 October at 11:42)
61. just wants to vomit. It feels less like Christmas morning and more like the moments before the elementary school spelling bee. C'mon Illinois bar examiners; post July's results already! (01 October at 08:21)
62. scored Cubbies tickets with John, Alan and Hillary Thursday night. Pittsburgh Pirates are going down. Go, Cubs, Go! (30 September at 15:11)
63. might not be as cool as Brody Jenner, but Chicagoland bromance applications are currently being accepted. Apply herein. (29 September at 12:52)
64. Second City... let that wind blow. (28 September at 20:40)
65. apparently swapped hurricanes for tornadoes. When in the midwest, do what the midwesterners do, one must suppose. Good times. Now how about those fried cheese kurds at Culvers? That sounds like a better midwestern treat (and a half)...(28 September at 00:15)
66. Old St. Pat's or St. A's? This church shopping thing is getting complicated... (27 September at 12:29)
67. Jesus Christ, God Loves Us! GO IRISH! BEAT BOILMAKERS! This is what college football is ALL ABOUT!!!! (26 September at 22:28)
68. Another Urbanathlon training run. Mostly flat, but with some rolling hills and also with good variety of surfaces: asphalt, concrete, gravel, sand and grass.(26 September at 11:16) ·
69. Go Irish! Beat Boilmakers! Go Hokies! Beat Hurricanes! Go Bulls! Beat 'noles! (26 September at 07:58)
70. "my crocs make that manageable." (25 September at 20:46)
71. + Rachel present Friday Night Game Nite. 1350 W Winnemac #3W, Andersonville. Be there or square. You know you want in... so bring it already! [ps--GO HOKIES!] (25 September at 17:35)
72. Met my match at Cheetah Gym whilst dirty-doubling: the dude (yes, dude) who planned on using the 125 lb. dumbbells and kindly asked if he could use my bench. First off: yes, sir, you may. Second off: Steroids much?!? Third off: You can kill me with one swipe of your paw. That would hurt. I take the steroids comment back... (25 September at 14:52)
73. Just found out that Tedy Bruschi is half-Filipino. Guess what? So is Neal! The day is officially complete... (24 September at 22:10)
74. will be saying 'Aloha' to Hamburger Mary's with the Castrop sistahs and Ms. Lauck. If you want in too, hit the digits... (24 September at 18:06)
75. can no longer listen to The Beatles. They used to remind Neal of Sunday Brunch with the Boyles... or even "Across the Universe." Those are good, nostalgic, feel-good associations. Now, The Beatles are just associated with being stuck in the makeshift office (read: Andersonville Starbucks) and the baristas that keep on glaring in his direction (read: sexual harrassment). Yarghhhhh! (24 September at 15:25)
76. is marketing his goods+services to all of Chicagoland. (23 September at 09:01)
77. thinks that 80s music after a night of Taco Tuesdays is the perfect way to end the 21st day in Chicago.... (22 September at 23:58)
78. is listening to Joni Mitchell, drafting cover letters, scheduling coffees, and plotting on how this Illinois Sub-Teacher's and Prelim Teaching Certificate should get used... Oh, and figuring which passport beer should get consumed tonite @ Crew (disappointed that he can't have another Rogue Dead Guy). (22 September at 14:17)
79. misses having in-unit laundry. But at least he's just figured out his next photography project! (22 September at 12:28)
80. Hospital Scrubs, Orange Crush, Chocolate Ice Cream, Elios Pizza + watching "Role Models." Neal may just have morphed into a chicita... (21 September at 23:20)
81. Didn't think anyone could beat Meg Hughes' "Tour de France" spin class, but alas, in Chicago reigns a spin instructor who has fine-tuned that form of torture... (21 September at 19:47)
82. Funny how whether you're in Boston or Chicago, the Red Line always has got its (endearing AND annoying) quirks. Woot public transit! (21 September at 08:56)
83. Bear Down, Chicago Bears! Craziness... (20 September at 18:18)
84. Beautiful fall day in Chicago=perfect sweatshirt weather, perfect Parish "shopping" weather, and perfect flag football weather... (20 September at 09:58)
85. Thank you, Lord. Irish fans will gladly take that (lucky+undeserved) ND win over MSU. Makes for an easier ride back to Chicago, too... (19 September at 20:27)
86. Got an extra ND/MSU ticket. Anyone want it? Let Neal know. Go Irish! Beat Spartans! (19 September at 10:48)
87. Oh, Notre Dame. What beautiful things my eyes see before me. Go Irish! Beat Spartans! (19 September at 10:24)
88. Go Irish! Beat Spartans! (19 September at 07:34)
89. is a tad homesick+missing boston, at least... (19 September at 02:38)
90. Chicago-style dinner party=success. Thank God (and Jewel-Osco)! (19 September at 00:28)
91. and Rach are hauling @$$ trying to get this dinner together. Woot woot! Go Game Night in Chicago!!! (18 September at 19:36)
92. After seeing "Across the Universe," rereading "The Year the Title Forgot to Come," and partaking in bike adventures w/the Citymate, I think MaryBeth Burke was right: being the candle in "Beauty the Beast, the Musical" is a noteworthy goal (even more so than being staff@ Crew). (18 September at 01:51)
93. Lake Shore-A'ville-Lincoln Sq run: 8.25 miles. Clark/Foster to Montrose Hrbr to Hollywood Beach to Winnemac Pk. 30 days to the Mens Health Race. Run, Neal, Run! (17 September at 19:14)
94. That's right, there're big waves, seagulls+plenty of sand at Lake Michigan. Oh, and a beach at the end of my street. Chicago=wicked amazing. Neal approves... (16 September at 14:42)
95. The Jehovah Witnesses found me at Starbucks. They are aggressive. I think they were sent. Someone confirm or deny these suspicions! (15 September at 09:56)
96. Good Morning, Chicago. The sun has yet to rise, but somehow, somewhy, Neal is already rarin' to go. Not sure what's going on here, but let it roll... (15 September at 05:17)
97. "You're too stupid to have a good time." Thank you, Patrick Swayze. RIP. (14 September at 23:19)
98. Tom Brady is back tonite! Anyone else up for Monday Night Football @T's Bar & Grill in Andersonville? Hit the digits... (14 September at 13:41)
99. Spending the morning working out of the Starbucks in Andersonville. How yuppie cliche of Neal... (14 September at 08:56)
100. Lauren Lynch wins, and she has Jay Cutler to thank for that. Grrrrrrr... (13 September at 22:50)
101. Inaugural Lake Shore Run. Clark/Foster to Belmont Harbor and back. Let's see how Chicago's trails treat old Neal's feet... (13 September at 17:58)
102. Got it, folks. Bear Down. Off to O'Hare with Lady Martinez... (13 September at 15:21)
103. Since I've moved Chicago, no drop of rain has fallen sky. Keep the blue skies shining down on me (oh, and Bear Down, Chicago Bears!)... (13 September at 14:43)
104. En route to U2... at Soldier's Field! (12 September at 19:43)
105. = p.o.'d Irish fan. Armando Allen was in bounds. Big Ten refs, Neal's got a bone to pick with you. (12 September at 18:19)
106. Go Irish! Muck Fichigan! (12 September at 00:14)
107. Calling Allen out of bounds was the worst official review I've ever seen. (12 September at 15:22)
108. The quest for a desk continues... and all these furniture stores in Andersonville do the trick (at least for ideas)! (10 September at 18:03)
109. Whether in Boston or Chicago, still finding myself listening to KISS-FM. Breaks up assembling all this stuff from Ikea... Oh, Neal! (10 September at 12:47)
110. The Chronicles of Narnia wardrobe is taking forever to reassemble.. Lucy better pop on out when I'm done with some Turkish Delight! (10 September at 14:08)
111. T's Bar+Restaurant in Andersonville w/the Castrop Sistahs! (09 September at 21:53)
112. can't get Green Day's "21 Guns" out of his head. Thank you, Mix 101.9... (07 September at 23:34)
113. Wine cups? Yes, Chicago! (06 September at 22:49)
114. after dropping Will+Chris off at O'Hare, this kid is kicking off his freshman year in the Windy City by unpacking (because boxes don't unpack themselves...) (06 September at 10:09)
115. Went up for push ups for 21 (again), courtesy Lynch. Irish 21, Wolfpack, 0. (05 September at 16:00)
116. Went up for push ups for 7, courtesy Lynch. Irish 7, Wolfpack, 0. (05 September at 15:22)
117. Go Irish! Beat Wolf Pack! (Obviously, in South Bend for the day...) (05 September at 10:29)
118. Crew in Uptown... with the Comiskey Field hopefuls... (04 September at 13:48)
119. ...hoping someone wants to help a Nealski and has got an extra ND-Nevada ticket... (04 September at 11:53)
120. is scouring for tickets for the White Sox/Red Sox game. And 1500 others things to be done in Chicago right now. (04 September at 08:53)
121. "#220, you have no game. But there's something cute and adorable about you. Make a move. --#113." Alas, life at Durkin's. Definitely an "I" + not an "E"... (04 September at 01:09)
122. Hopleaf with Chris+Will. Amen for Andersonville (which=new home) (03 September at 23:09)
123. made it to Chicago. Let the fun begin! (02 September at 23:52)
124. En route to Chicago, via I-90, with Chris+Will. ETA, 8:45pm CDT. So long, Boston. Neal will always love that dirty water. (02 September at 03:42)
125. Boston will always be home, but heading west, oh boy, this has never felt so good and so right. Chicago or bust, baby! (01 September at 06:14)
126. Oh, move to Chicago, Neal hopes his arrival to your grand city is nothing like his departure from Boston, which has been nothing short of wicked wicked WICKED aggravating. (31 August at 17:22)

In re: Edna, Mrs. Bee, Grandma, or just Ma

When Jess and I decided (or, maybe it was more like I decided, but Jess agreed) to host Thanksgiving at our apartment in 2007, I couldn't contain the satisfaction of being able to show off to three ladies that I could pull this thing off without messing up royally: My little sister Ro, my Mom, and my Grandma.

Now, the first two weren't too much to worry about. My mom being my mom and my sister being my sister, I was absolutely certain that they would jump in as needed. Mashed potatoes? "Nope, you're not doing those right..." and so my mom would jump in. Making a veggie tray? "You're kind of slow at this, let ME do it..." and so my sister would jump in. Always coddling me, the two of them.

My bigger concern was my grandma. I spent my whole life trying to impress her, so I had to prep Jess a little bit: "If you think I'm picky, if you think I'm intense, well wait until you meet my grandma. I'm basically fruit cut right off that tree!" Obsessive compulsive disorder eased in on my end and with that, Thanksgiving preparations began. I found myself at Johnnies Foodmaster making sure we had the perfect amount of light cream (not half & half, not heavy cream, light cream), getting the right kind of tea bags, and inspecting dozens of custard pies to find one that looked amazing, (hopefully) tasted amazing, yet looked homemade enough so that I can pass it off as something coming from the fruits of my labor. The pie was important; if there was one thing that I had learned over the course of my then-25 years in being, it was that custard pie at Thanksgiving meant a great deal to my grandma. If there wasn't one, I'd be sure to hear about it sometime, probably later in the summer or at my Aunt Lynn's Yankee Swap at Christmastime. I wouldn't be able to live that potential mess up down, regardless of how many cups of tea I'd make for her.

When my sister told my that my grandma died this morning, that Thanksgiving, oddly enough, was the first thing I thought about. I immediately thought about how lucky I was to have been able to host her at our place. And moreover, to have her let me know that I was doing a good job, that she was enjoying herself, that she was happy to watch me grow into a young man, and that I finally found myself a nice girl.

As to that last point, I let out a nice chuckle then and did this morning too. I had to explain to my grandma that Jess wasn't my girlfriend. So then she asked "oh, your soon new wife?" To which I responded -- shaking my head, muted laugh, all the while carefully placing sweet potato muffins, custard pie, and dark turkey cuttings into her take-away bag -- "Nahhh, Jess has Alex" but that she was one of my best friends from Notre Dame and, for the time being, my roommate while she was at Suffolk for law school.

She didn't believe me. Amidst all of her hard-headness, she still had this playful side that border-lined tricky mind games: "Oh, that's what you say now. You don't have to lie to me. Here." She'd palm a $20 bill to me "for the date and for the dinner" when we dropped her off at her apartment in the Charlestown Projects. I ended up buying a couple of bottles of Red Truck Wine with that. I never really told her (and I guess I can't now) that I wasn't dating Jess. I still laugh because here my grandma was, trying to set me up with my roommate! Unbelievable.

 

• Page from Mrs. Bee's Gardens public service booklet, 1984

The last time I saw my grandma at the Winthrop House -- when I finally mustered up the courage to get out the car in the parking lot without hoping to God that she was asleep -- my grandma couldn't place me immediately. Was I William or the other William or was I Sean?  But she sure remembered that Thanksgiving, apologized profusely, and then continued on about how much of a great time she had at our place.

The custard pie came up. She didn't care too much for the sweet potato muffins, but man, with that custard pie, she relayed to me about how she kept on cutting smaller pieces of the pie until it was gone. She indicated much she really wished she could have a piece of it now. We got decaf tea (although I don't think she knew it was decaf) and I pushed her around in her wheelchair. She asked "what was cooking," so I told her about my many trials and far more prevalent errors related to my spring gardening venture; about how the Illinois bar exam was in 72 days and that I was secretly praying for a cold and rainy summer; about how I was finally doing it -- moving to Chicago -- but that I secretly had butterflies about leaving Boston and my friends and family and everything I knew here; about how I wish I could do more for my parents because I secretly cared about them and loved them immensely, even though I never told them that nearly enough. I told her about how I had a couple of her pamphlets from Mrs. Bee's Gardens at my house and that I was planning on getting a set of them framed because, for one reason or another, the whole thought of those gardens in the Charlestown Projects influenced me in more ways that I imagined. Those gardens planted the seed of humanity inside of me and helped me remember -- in a metaphorical sense -- the roots and sacrifices from which I was able to spring forth and stand where I was standing today.

I was getting too nostalgic. She immediately changed gears: "so, now you're still an attorney, right?"

"Yup," I said.

"Good, because I need a good lawyer. I always thought your father would be a good lawyer. I think Stevie Pothier became a lawyer. Do you remember Stevie Pothier?" I kind of nodded, and she pressed me on to carefully pushing her and her wheelchair. "Now, here, wait a minute."

Now if you didn't know my grandma, she had this way of carrying herself as the Queen Bee; the penultimate politician; a generous caregiver to others who was often a relentlessly tough nut to her own kids and grandkids; the quintessential dreamer; a woman who still thought about some day owning a horse farm in the rolling hills of Connecticut so that all of her 27 or so grandkids could some day learn to ride; the baker of the most amazing Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies I've ever experienced to date; the curious storyteller of Charlestown urban legends, which, even though I now know are not true, still haunt the 10-year old inside of me. Sometimes, I honestly thought that she was crazy. Other times, I knew that she knew what she was doing. And most of the time, even though I knew that I wasn't her favorite grandchild, I was thankful that I got to know at least one of my grandparents.

"I want you to meet my grandson. He's a big shot lawyer in town."

I grinned and sheepishly waived, shook my grandma's friend's hand, and Mrs. Bee kept on going. "He made me this custard pie last Thanksgiving that beats what crap-ola they feed us here. Next time maybe he visits, his wife will make him bring one with him." She turned to me and offered me her trademark grin--the grin that made me pretty certain that she still had the kicks in her. I just shook my head and laughed a little bit. Unbelievable, grandma. Unbelievable.

Edna Boyle, Charlestown, Mass.

1929-2009

Change is Inevitable II [In re: United States Gypsum Company]

I went to the 6pm Mass Young Adult Mass at Saint Mary's with my parents, and sat up near the front with my mom and my dad.  I really didn't say much to my parents.  I happened to bump into them on the way to church as I rushed down Main Street, and with our coat collars up and wool hats pulled down near our ears, I abashedly asked my dad up what he was going to do.  So we talked, and there was a lot of "I think, I feel, I'll figure" it out type of conversation going on.  Finally, we happened upon the great granite and brick structure that is Saint Mary's, and felt obliged to walk in.  When we got to the pew, my dad commented on my shirt: "Varitek" he said.  Then my mom asked, with Filipino accent and all: "oh, why, honey, you're not cantoring tonight?"  I kind of shrugged it off.  It was the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, and the first reading, from Isaiah chapter 8, verse 23 or so. 

Anguish has taken wing, dispelled is darkness:
for there is no gloom where but now there was distress.
The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom
a light has shone.

I let the reading sink in my head and the thoughts process the matrix of my mind.

Now there comes a time when you really do begin to worry about your parents.  I don't know if it's part of the natural life cycle or what, but it seems like, in the midst of weddings and engagements and pregnancies, talk of the parents is the next in line hot topic among my friends and my junior associate co-workers; we're either tackling the fact that some day, our parents will get old and die, or we're avoiding the topic because we're too scared to confront the change and the love-anguish associated with the idea.  I always thought I'd be long off from thinking about my parents in that way, and luckily, I think that's a far ways away still.  But somewhere admidst the homily and the Nicene Creed during Mass, I started thinking about the United States Gypsum Plant at the end of Terminal Street in Charlestown.  I really couldn't comprehend that USG was going to idle a good portion of the Boston plant come the end of March; that all these employees, who watched me and my siblings grow up, were being W.A.R.N.'d under the Workers Adjustment and Retraining Notification Act; that, even though all of these people survived USG's Chapter 11 reorganization and crazy USG company picnics at Canobie Lake and even crazier times working just beneath the Tobin Bridge, in an instant, they were all suddenly being let down and let off.  I'm sure, for some, this was like the miracle in the works waiting to happen.  And I can assure you -- there will be many a commuter who will be happy when they don't have to drive over the Tobin Bridge through the steam from the USG Plant's steam stacks. But I, I felt like a piece of me -- even though I didn't work at USG (my sister, though, worked in the lab all through undergraduate and graduate school summers) -- was dying off.  And I felt like, suddenly, I was worried about what my dad was going to do.

I'll always remember when I got into Notre Dame.  It was my birthday in 1999, and since I had been feeling a bit nauseous at school, I dodged my friends after seventh period, called in sick to work, and just went home (I didn't know, at the time, that I ended up missing my own surprise 18th birthday party).   I came home to find a thin letter from the ND Admissions office.  And so, you know how the urban legend goes "if the letter's thin, there's no way you're in."  Well, I eventually mustered up the courage to open the letter.  The rest is pretty much history, but I did call my dad and hiked down to Terminal Street to the USG plant to show him the letter.  And in lockstep Rudy style, I put on a green hard hat and walked through the USG plant with my dad.  "Little Neal's going to Notre Dame" he'd announce proudly.  And of course, all of the familiar, tired faces at USG lit up a bit -- whether congratulatory or a bit bitter -- and extended manly hands to shake my soft  adolescent paw.  I remember the way the fine dust from crushed gypsum rock felt with every shake; it dried the hands and crusted in the same way thin layers of overly diluted plaster crusts on the surface of a spackling spade.  I recall the tears that were in my dad's eyes when he read the letter at the front entrance of the plant.  And I'll always remember the thought I had standing there under the bright, orangish lights inside the factory: "thank you, USG, for helping our family pull through.  And thank you, USG, for making sure I didn't end up throwing cement bags for the rest of my life."

As with any good post, I guess I don't know where this is heading.  But what I do know is this: with the USG Plant idling along the shores of the Mystic River, another piece of middle America, industrial America as we know it in Greater Boston, will move into askew memories of an (industrial) time that once was.  Another opportunity for some middle-class, blue-collar, working-class family to live on the hope of getting ahead -- much like the family I was born and raised from -- and subsist on at least a half decent living, will ride away on the waves of what is, to many, a vibrant and transforming economy.  And with that, I'm left to wonder what else is left for the working-class folks of Greater Boston to do.  I wonder, with pause, what my dad will do.

It's one big Fiesta

Well, Notre Dame isn't in a college football bowl game this year.  Oh well.  I've already suffered enough heartburn and heartache over it, not to mention being completely traumatized by the Fiesta Bowl.  Instead of being completely bitter, though, I'm throwing all my support back to my Big East roots and rootin' the Mountaineers, big time!

Go Mountaineers! Beat Sooners!

"Nevar" Hate in 2K8!

• The first thing I want to say about 2008 on my blog: I love Chicago.
• An affirmative action I want to contemplate beginning in 2008: Rule 705 Motions or ... .
• Some things continue to sit well in 2008: for sure, Harry Potter movies.
• Nicknames that shouldn't (and can't) stick in 2008 in 2008: Carlton; Carlton; Carlton.
• Overrated for 2008: Showering, productivity, lack of McDonalds.
• First wrong reference/realisation of 2008: "it's what i eat and what i do".
• Magic number of 2008: 2050.
• Looking forward to in 2008: Becker's Litany of Saints @ Easter Vigil; 7/26; joy; 27.

The nickname won't stick (hopefully)

First off, let me share with the world the text message I sent to a few people this morning (late this morning) as I tried as hard as I could to not move my body (for fear that things would get 'agitated' and 'you know' would 'happen'):

Ugghh gawd.  Thing #5860 I did not miss about alcohol: massive hangovers the day after where the recurring though is "oh, dear sweet lord jesus, what did I do? I am so sorry but please PLEASE I do not deserve death."

Sound desperate?  That's because I was (and really--still am).  In fact, I am being a total schmuck; while my friends are scrubbing the tarp for the "Cups Nook," I'm blogging on Typepad mobile.  I am awesome... and being horribly selfish.  At least the music in the background is good (think: Vince Guaraldi Trio's "A Charlie Brown Christmas" Soundtrack). 

Back to the main details of last night.  First off: Hill and I went to this amazing mexican place on Halsted in 60614 -- about a block away from the Citimates' place -- called Mayan Palace.  Maybe it was good because Hill and I got to catch up on gossip, because our waiter (Alejandro) offered us a celebratory New Years' flan, or because the frozen strawberry margaritas (first alcohol in 65 days!) were unbelievable.  Whatever the reason, I now love Mayan Palace and can't wait to go back....

After a little trip to Walgreens for some Pepcid and some cash, we stopped by Kev's place and then to a bar in the 'hood.  I'll cut to the chase: after tons of ice cold Heineken and blowing about $160 on rounds of Jäger Bombs (say my receipts--and this is a good place to reference--they've only caused trouble before--and by now, I've submitted poor Rach to becoming the newest "you're doing shawwwwwwts with me" victim), I commit the most atrocious of hambone-esque 02129 moves (actually, a couple) to /POST CLIPPED/  But I have this weird feeling that "Carlton" is going to stick as my official nickname forever... I officially hate myself. You just had to be there :)

All I got to say -- in sweet defense -- is that I love my brooks brother tie and my gray wool sweater. I would take neither off for no one.  No one.

 

Moving, Lonergan, and Seventy-Five Days

An agent through which vital powers are exercised.

Fall is finally becoming fall in Boston, in November.  Crisp and cool, just the way November should be.  I always thought that this type of fall weather lends itself to the nostalgia that replays inside my mind and supports the frustrated writer that lingers inside of me.  That's what I thought about when I was walking up Walker Street after I got off the bus this evening.  I was thinking about how much I really love my street, and how cool but strikingly red the fireball glowed from the utility pole at the top of my street, and how much I really loved what I do--even though I bitch and complain about it at times.  It's that new slug of a slog that I have to fight out and figure out.  I could quit.  But I love the playing field.

Beneath that fireball, though, I bumped upon Todd and Meg's U-Haul.  Todd and Dan were in it, amid all of the Todd and Meg's life that was getting squeezed into a 17-foot U-Haul.  Now, I always get really funny with change, especially moving.  I play things off like I'll see someone tomorrow.  I try to keep things "normal."  I laugh a bit and [/MESSAGE CLIPPED/]

The iPhone Commercial [ORD/SBN/MRY]

This is going to sound really weird.  But every time I hear/see the iPhone commercial, that little nostalgia button inside of me gets triggered.  It's like the music and the iPhone voiceover voice are really soothing.  At the same time, the shots -- I don't think I can call it cinematography -- have this flow that puts me into the Rudy/Skipping class for the BrewCo with Hill/Doors of Notre Dame/"walking across South Quad at dawn after pulling an all-nighter" kind of feel.  Everything's in soft, clean, incandescent-boosted hues.

And it all begs another question that I'll just answer.  I really miss Notre Dame.

I guess that's why I'm wicked excited to be making the trek on the third week of vacation.  Instead of celebrating a year on the job, I'll be celebrating the ND Perpetual Keggers, ND Football, ND Wedding.  And I really can't wait to go to the Grotto.  It's my favorite spot on campus, especially late in the summer when the Indiana humidity, 1000 chirping crickets, and faint sounds of the lake culminate in just one really surreal experience.  Just thinking about it makes me sigh.  And when I close my eyes and just think about it, the feeling of being relaxed pours over me.

Perhaps this is a little bit of hyperbole.  Perhaps it is.  But I think it answer's Erin's question from a few weeks ago.  I still think about that place.  And it still matters.  It matters to me.

Thank you, iPhone.

Tales from Friends Getting Married

From mi amiga Veronica (via mi roomie, Jess):

Three weeks before the wedding and on four hours of sleep. I managed to set fire to a bagel in the cafeteria and evacuate the whole building. I had three firemen trying to comfort me while I cried. One offered his friend to strip at the bachelorette party.

I’ve done a lot for before 9am on a Monday.

I know already that this one is going to be a wicked awesome wedding...

Re: emails from friends

The email message:

It's weird how reading your reply to George made me realize how I never hear you talk about Notre Dame that much anymore. Either corporate indentured servitude is stifling your nostalgia or I'm just not around you in a social setting that much anymore!

Nealmeister's response:

Oh, I do think about it a lot. I think about Notre Dame, and the ocean, and the woods in Maine, my parents and Sunday morning bruch, and that four of swords card from the tarrot card deck four years ago (or five summers ago). I think I'm just not around many people in a social setting anymore (unfortunately), and as such, all of the nostalgia gets kept to myself. The things that make me laugh with my friends, the things that I really love discussing, the things that I really love spending my time doing, there's really just not that time anymore. It's somewhat sad; those were all the things that made up my personality. But it's amazing how once you get to the real world, your "personality" no longer becomes relevant. Well, at least in the corporate world. It's all about cash. Nobody really much cares about what I think (or the brilliant things in life, for that matter, like the ways clouds form on the eve of a thunderstorm in the middle of the summer; or how beautiful the congregation sounds at church when they try to sing, even though they're somewhat out of key and sound somewhat shrill; or the sound of the tires to my corolla when I'm driving through the less congested roads around the Middlesex Fells), unless it has to do with a transaction. Which is hard. I'm sounding like a frustrated writer...

The reply back:

Damn, that was intense! Brilliant! I just had to check and see if you still had it in you. But I hope I didn't open a can of worms on you.

Clearly: popular

I have so many draft posts, here's a quip from the collected memories of my pre-graduation trip to Chicago last year.

You can take the kid away from Boston, but you can't take the Boston out of the kid... especially when Boston keeps on following you.  I know, I know.  Chicago should be Chicago.  But once I trekked from O'Hare on the Blue Line to Logan Square, I was wicked excited to hear that Hill and Alan had the same thing in mind: Dunkies, please. 

Who knows, Chicago might have yet another piece of Boston contained in it at some point in the near future...

Thoughts from the blackberry

music: anna nalick/breathe

location: 93 bus stop, sullivan & bunker hill streets. 
weather: steady rain
previous discussion: w/Dave p*rkins, re: essex, rain, england and new englanders

The asian woman collecting empties out of trash.  No one thought about what happens to her when you fail to sort your deposit bottles out of the trash and into the recycling bins.  Random thought, yes.  And I know people get really annoyed with them digging through their trash.  But, think about it.  It is really as much about their livelihod as it is ours. 

That was the gross juxtaposition at the bus stop -- socially, culturally, socioeconomically. And I could not help but think: "dear God, neal, in light of doing this whole attorney thing, in doing this whole yuppie thing, in accomplishing something that I clealy am not completely cognizant of but yet let sweep me away, please, please don't let me become so jaded that I forget my roots.  And lose passion -- or is it compassion -- for people like the asian lady collecting cans."

music: john mayer/slow dancing in a burning room

marriage, blackbird style

Well, one of my PE girls had this post on everyone getting engaged and married in her life.  I felt the need to post here, because I feel a similar, simultaneous need to play "catch up" but yet ask "why?" 

Redux:

i find it highly amusing and somewhat unsettling that people at work are pointing out various people i should date. i couldn't possibly think about that right now. i'm too distracted by work that it has got to be 1 of the very last things on my mind. i also find it highly amusing that 1 of the people pointed out to me was someone my friend kristen went out with. and soha gave her a nice talking-to about that one. why on earth would i go out with someone who we disapproved of? (we don't mean "disapprove" in a bad way, just 1 of those things you just shake your head "no" at) that would just be all kinds of wrong.

i'm also at that point where i'm finding an increase in friends who are or will be getting married. and it doesn't really freak me out, it's just... there. i don't really know how to describe the feeling. it's just like, oh, ok. i don't know, i'm just thinking.

and then i have my best friend, who just broke up with someone she was with for almost 4 years. and i had no idea their relationship had been leading up to it.

so what's the point of this?  i don't really know, i'm just typing.

She's a Maneater...

Well, New Year's Resolution #102 is already broken.  I haven't blogged as much, nor have I posted the pictures from DC yet. 

Alas, don't worry!  The pictures from Millie and Al's (an experience which was talked about in the Office, for sure) will surface as soon as I can make it to my parents' house.  Who could really hate on the Jello-shots?  Not me.

In the meantime, let me share with you some of Rachel's pics.  You should turn on iTunes and turn on that Nelly Furtado song, Maneater. 

H, H & N, with N in a near-t/t/e-chomping stance.

pointless, except it makes me smile in the wee hours of the AM.

late night ramblings during late night with conan

Well, Conan's in Chicago, I'm working (at 1:23AM), and my roommate is 600 miles south-south-west of Nantucket.  Clear skies in Boston.  Against my better judgment, I have all of the blinds open in our living room & kitchen.  Heat's a wasting.  But the view of downtown boston, the Edwards Jr. High School, and the traffic on I-93 is kind of appealing.  Anything to procrastinate... kind of.

Right now, we're in the 12 days of Christmas.  It's day 2, and I'm currently counting down the days to (a) Epiphany, because I'm at least 1/2 filipino, and little Christmas is important to the pinoys, (b) the mofo new years reunion, because the reunion is my mini vacation, and (c) the fourth of july [an inside joke to an email sent out today.  if you weren't privy to it, don't feel bad.  many weren't privy to it.].  I'm contemplating going to trivia night at game on with carrie, geoff, mike, and jenn tomorrow night.  I may even go to "men's club" at sully's on thursday night, and gina's birthday party friday night.  Maybe.  We'll see.  Hmmm... work...

I really need to do some work, so in lieu of a complete post (and to cap off my ramblings), I'm pasting what I wrote on Vin's wall on Facebook.com.

Neal Boyle wrote
at 1:18am

conan's in chi-town... what a perfect thing to watch while I'm in my notre dame hooding, sitting on my green couch, doing (yet more) work for, ahem, work.

now that I'm totally missing my roommate right now, I should add that there's plenty of hospitals in the greater boston area. they're always looking for nurses. and we have a spare room. hint hint.

don't say i never offered...

ps- conan on stage is pretty cool.

A Pondering Thought from the View on the 34th Floor

Prayers of Thanksgiving, I feel, come in so many different ways for me.  Often times they are hard for me to articulate and communicate because they come about through some tangential experience--in the broadest sense of the phrase.  I don't know if they're sensoral or behaivoral or psychologoical or truly a message from God, but what I do know is that they raise me up in weird ways.

Often times, it better helps to experience them when I'm walking on my own (say, Notre Dame campus during Purdue Weekend) or when I can shut a door for a few minutes (like, here at work, with the view of South Boston and Dorchester Bay).

I had a lot to say and write, but I'm just going to paste the YouTube clip in here, courtesy of Ysmael.  (And yes, I'm so sorry that I couldn't make it out for the Notre Dame v. Army game NDMI/PKs.)

Today's an Adam Vinatieri Three-fer

So the Colts play the Pats tonight, and I'm hauling ass trying to get as much work done as possible so that I can at least do stuff in front of the television (and with some warm apple pie, courtesy of party animal, e-co, and e-co's new love) so that I can actually get to watch some of the game (unlike the notre dame game yesterday--where I was being really lame and watched on ESPN gamecast).

The Colts and the Pats just bring a smile to my face.  Everyone knows that I'm all about College Football.  I could really give two shits about NFL ball.  Most of the time, if I had to chose between being locked in the library at school and watching pro ball, I'd willingly go to the library... and stay there.  But the Colts and the Pats.  Maybe all the "spiteful hating" that I've learned to love to do has brought me to love watching this match-up for the sheer comedy because it's so, well, drama-filled (as I MTV-ize pro ball).

Take Peyton.  It's always a ton of fun watching him squirm like a kid in junior high.  So whiney.  So much like Rudy when he was playing football on the lot.  I just love laughing at him, and actually, I'd really love it if CMart could come up from DC and watch with me so that we could hate on together.

There's tons more to hate on, but I'm feeling like a bad broken record.  Let's go for the Adam Vinatieri roll call today, because he's the reason I'm actually blogging right now instead of drafting pleadings.  And note, out of my need for nostalgia, this is brought to you by Papa Gino's...

"It's good!" ... I actually passed the Massachusetts Bar, thanks to the likes of the brain trust, multi-colored flashcards, the loverly staff at BarBri (especially Paula), Professor Judge and Dean Keenan (for helping me call two questions on the essay portion), Robert Feinburg, Esq., my mom and dad, and friends and lovers and fwbs, and viewers like you.  You can find evidence of my passage here.

"It's good!" ... I've donated more of my income since September to charitable purposes than I have to any other combined personal cause.  Thank you Microsoft Money for auditing my checkbook.  But with charity comes love.  That's why I'm hanging the autographed Snow Ball picture of Adam Vinatieri that I won in an auction at Best of Charlestown in my office at work.

"It's good!" ... because I really could use some Papa Gino's pizza right now, but let's face it, the Triple Play and Adam Vinatieri's pizza deal last year were better than Teddy Bruschi's ...

"It's good!"  ... ok, enough.  I've stopped laughing enough now.  But I do have to announce, my son, Neal, will become a kicker as well.  I couldn't have him be a pouty bitch like the other QBs in my life, could I?

Ok, this needs to stop.  Now.

Love thee, Notre Rutgers?

I really love Notre Dame.  That should not be in dispute here.

But I did think, for my love of the game, how extremely awesome it would be if Rutgers could pull some BCS shiat off.  Come on, think about it.  It's a perfect Cinderella story.  So I copy from ESPN.com, a bit of Craig James and all, love ND, NB, JR, and other Charlestown guys who have made it to 46556 from 02129.

A Rutgers run would add fuel to the college fire

By Craig James
ESPN.com
Archive

Give me a show of hands from all those who would love to see Rutgers go undefeated and play for the national championship?

I've got my hand up. What a story it would be.

College football is on a monster run in popularity, and this would be nothing but jet fuel on the already hot fire.

Why? Because tons of casual fans, not to mention serious college football fans, would be pulling for the mighty underdog Rutgers to pull off the unthinkable. One of the original college powerhouses would have made a monster stride to compete with the big boys of college football.

The Scarlet Knights are 7-0 and have these remaining games:

Sunday vs. Connecticut (ESPN, 8 ET): Rutgers will win this one with defense.

Nov. 9 vs. Louisville: An emotional and physical challenge for the Knights, but I think they can do it. The Cardinals are good and physical, but I think Rutgers has the power to stay with them. Not many out there realize how hard Rutgers' defense plays. We all know about the running game and Ray Rice. Rice wouldn't be doing what he's doing without a physical offensive line and blockers in front of him. It's a home game unlike any they've seen on campus in a loooong time.

Nov. 18 at Cincinnati: Should win here, too.

Nov. 25 vs. Syracuse: Again, at home and a better team than the Orange.

Dec. 2 at West Virginia: Gulp. Here's where Cinderella's slipper either stays on or gets blown right off. For those of us who've been to a game at WVU, well, it ain't a place for the weak-hearted. Rutgers will have to force turnovers, win the time of possession and get just plain old-fashioned lucky here.

Bottom line: Louisville and West Virginia are going to be tough opponents. But those two have been so focused on each other that perhaps Rutgers can slip past them.

Especially the Cardinals, who will play host to the Mountaineers next Thursday in a much-hyped game.

I wouldn't be presenting this scenario if Rutgers had bad breath. Umm, some of you will know what I'm talking about. Rutgers isn't a team with warts on the nose, droopy jeans or many other nasty traits.

Rutgers is a good, solid and well-coached team. 

So there you have it. Rutgers taking on Ohio State for the national championship. What the heck, crazier things have happened in this sport. Or have they?

 

Heisman update

Troy Smith, QB, Ohio State: still the man of the best team in the country. It seems as if Smith keeps getting better. I've said for a few weeks now that he's a QB now and not just an athlete. Smith's starting to look like a future Sunday QB, too.

Ray Rice, RB, Rutgers: Cinderella team led by this young man. The charging runner has 12 TDs and is an inspiration to his teammates, too.

Steve Slaton, RB, West Virginia: Big national TV platform coming up against Louisville. Slaton's really fast and the offense is balanced.

In a nutshell, it has been a long time since the Heisman race has been so lackluster. There aren't many voters out there who aren't thinking about Smith as the guy. Rice has a shot if he can get to 2,000 yards and Rutgers goes undefeated. Of course, something really strange would have to happen for Smith to fall off the perch.

Then again, Rutgers staying unbeaten would qualify in the really strange department.

Craig James is a college football analyst for ABC Sports and ESPN.

The Mofos/Perpetual Keggers take over Notre Dame again...

/ RELEASED 07 OCT 2006 /

Life is full of surprises.  For everything else, there's d-r-a-m-a.

Well, when you're with the ND Mofos and ND Perpetual Keggers (which I guess are one in the same), you know you're in for tons of drama, even if it's self-instigated by our own, loving, endearing, comedic, spiteful hating on each other that is making me laugh as I type.  Or maybe it's the picture from Corby's up above with the guys [clockwise from the white guy in white--Alan, Kevin ("Fluffy"), Ysmael, and Me (and apparently, now my nickname is "Papi?")] that is making me just chuckle [I have yet to understand why I look wet, but maybe someone can explain that to me?]. 

Either way, I hauled ass at work during the week, even pulled an all-nighter Thursday night into Friday, flew standby from Boston to Chicago, and hooked up w/Hill & co. in Lakeview so that we could trek another 90 miles to Notre Dame.  Oh how sweet life is.  You all know by now that Notre Dame is home for me.  The stories seem to communicate that the experience thrived off of one giant alcoholic experience, but that's only part of the story.  The rest of it -- and probably most important to me -- revolves around so many other things (which sweetly, and starting to be askewly, culminate in what is affectionately referred to as "Neal nostalgia"), and so many other people, but for sure, the mofos.

Ok, before I get all nostalgic on you people, let me just get it out there.  After the Purdue game, I found my way to dorm mass at Siegfried Hall, met up with Fr. John, bumped into tons of ramblers, and then went on a walk around campus on my own.  It rained during the Purdue game, so the campus smelt of a needed football victory and of freshly fallen rain evaporating in the now-setting midwestern sun.  Did the grotto and managed to hold back getting teary eyed.  Started walking around campus, and DID get teary eyed.  There's something about seeing the Dome -- and then flashing in thoughts of my parents and growing up in Charlestown -- that musters up uncontrollable emotional reactions inside of me that, yes, manifest themselves in a teary-eyed me walking around God Quad and South Quad.

Cheesy--yes.  Others have said it before, like Rudy's dad: [Upon entering Notre Dame Stadium] This is the most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen!

Ok, I'm getting wicked tired now.  It's late, and I'm up later than I'd want to be because me and Jess have this thing for watching Boston Legal.  But the Keggers revealed their official tailgating flag, and I though that I'd share...

And in other events, while the peasants (I know I was always "copper with flints of gold!"), other people in the Neal-circle were DEFINITELY living it up Plat'num during the ND-Purdue game, ahem, Dan and Kim:

Lucky hoes!

In re: the Loser

So Eva Longoria is on Jay Leno, and the people of Mod Quad East suspect that she may be of child at the moment.  Some noticeable features: puffier face, "different" boobs, and changed hair color to hide all of the other changed physiological features.  I'm laughing now, though, because I'm just really kind of tired but running on adrenaline (still) from work.  And oh yeah, my body hurts.  Working out does that.

I have a whole bunch of short posts that I need to publish soon.  It's not that I haven't created them, but that I've just drafted them.  So maybe in a few days you'll get my bitch fest on getting my 3000 mile check up, why my "relationship" with Brady Quinn is strained, and of course, some nice and nostalgic posts--all reflections from work orientation.

And here's the kicker, though.

You would have had to watched 7 news tonight to figure out...

Go Irish! Beat Blue!

Well kids, I'm back blogging again. 

After a very very long hiatus, an admission to myself: all of these unfinished posts that I have unpublished are never going to be finished, so screw it, they're not going up.  Part of me feels bad because I felt like I had some awesome leads -- rafting in Maine, this whole "thank you god for this most amazing" feeling while I was down in NYC, and a bunch of other things.  But ohhhh well...

To the important shiat: Notre Dame football.  I don't try to replicate good football rundowns because I suck at communicating it.  The Blue-Gray Sky has got a pretty good post: Handy Household Tips for scUM removal.

All of this, and I gave away my Michigan tickets at home this weekend.  So Ro, Will, Joe and Travis roadtripped in my little Corolla from Boston to South Bend, and I guess they're meeting up with my sister's fiance (that sounds wicked weird!) to do what I wicked want to do: tailgate, drink cold duck like I'm ghetto-plat'num, and of course watch Notre Dame dominate Michigan!  I'm wicked jealous!!!

But you know what... watching at GameOn! will be wicked awesome after my first week of work EVER!

Muck Fichigan!

It's been a while

I've got that Staind song stuck in my head this morning.

But just as I post again, I'm heading off with Erin, Ro, Keith, Greg & Ed to go rafting on the Kennebec River up in Maine a couple of times again.  Even though it's pouring rain in New England and it looks like it's going to be in the 50s this weekend.  Jackman, here we come back!  So for the time being, you're stuck with the "ten-sentence-or-less" update I guess...

Don't worry.  I guess I'll be back Monday or so, Moose ears and all.

But to answer the questions...

• The Bar made me say "Oh SHIT!" many times.  It was analagous to being Elmo-ed.  But I haven't really thought about it in a while now.  That biatch is in some else's hands, BIOTCh and all (lol).
• Me and Jess have moved in to our new pad in Charlestown (and we got a spare bedroom, wink wink)
• I haven't made all those promised phone calls...
• too many people getting married (but I'm wicked excited: a closer Boyle relative got engaged!)
• I'm excited-scared-and-everything-else-in-between about work.  Orientation starts in New York City mid-September.
• Vacation and TV are such great things.  And by the way--CSI has surpassed Law and Order SVU on my "favorite TV shows" list.
• Perpetual Keggers'/Mofos' Reunion Game: Purdue.  But I might die at work the week before...

That's it folks.  Thank yous are still coming. And cell phone reception sucks on my street, but I'm trying.

Go Vacationland!  Beat Bay State!

A Prayer of Thanksgiving and a Prayer of Good Luck

First off, I want to wish everyone Good Luck on whatever state's (or states') bar exams that you begin tomorrow.  I think we've all prepped as much as we humanly can, getting beat up by BarBri and PMBR and so on... so now we need to kick in the creativity and hope and the inspiration that brought many of us to become lawyers in the first place. 

I like that vision from a hope standpoint, so that I can just keep on moving on.  But I think for all of us, there will be a few things that we maybe don't know--or really see--when those essays and state multiple choice and MPTs come in front of us.  Hopefully, that spark inside of us will keep us going.  Good luck, you!  Kick it, punch it, spit in its face... the bar exam is the enemy so go in and fight like it's your job! Booyah!

Second is a little more personal.  After all, the blog stems directly out of the Journaling that I've been doing since I was in the 5th grade.  The only difference now is that I kind of subject myself to the public light (that's what the comments, or the emails keep telling me... haha).

I have some groups to thank.  The obvious is God, being Catholic and all.  But those prayers I really said on my own, so I won't detail here....

When I emptied out my locker at Suffolk last night, and saw Brett Lovins when I was in the middle of a haze (and I think my conversation with him maybe got him worried, yes?), I realized: this bar exam is the culmination of really 20 years of formal education for me. 

It all started in Boston Public Schools -- at the Harvard-Kent School with Mrs. Kissling -- and since then I've been fortunate enough -- through St. Catherine's and Boston Latin and Notre Dame and Suffolk -- to meet so many educators who decided to work with my issues and get the best out of me.  In every ghetto, in every city, there's the geeky little kid who colors inside the lines and really likes to read and who really was shy and who couldn't win a fight for the life of him.  That was me circa 1986.  The balancing factor thanks goes out to all the guys, girls, adults, priests & nuns, coaches, camp directors, friends near and far, cousins and aunts and uncles and neighbors, and so many others in Charlestown and beyond who have really been great mentors and friends and have "had my back," literally and figuratively, advising and laughing and joking and criticizing and laughing some more.  For pointing out my faults and celebrating our victories.  This entire journey represents a joint venture of sorts.  I KNOW that I would NOT have got through this with out you all.  You get my thanks every time I see you, hang out with you, drink with you, vent with you, laugh with you, etc. etc.  But I just needed to recognize, you know!

And lastly, my family.  The Boyles. 

My siblings--Will, Ro, and Sean--are really my best friends, even though we fight and scream and basically live our lives in a drama-ful fashion, like we are straight out of MTV's the Real World.  Remember when we used to play "Mattress Coaster" when we lived in the Bricks?  Or all of our fart jokes?  Or the von-Boyle singers?  Remember when we moved to Lexington Street?  Our days up at the Bunker Hill Pool and how Greg the lifeguard made us do belly-flops into the deep end?  Oh, the days.  As much as I've hated being the oldest, I love you three.  I don't think anything could replace that and I kind of feel like I'm doing this for you as much as for me.  We shall do a toast up in Maine, for sure.

But more importantly, my mum and dad.  I can't really type this without some tears, but I love you and I thank you both so much for the sacrifices that you've made to make sure that your four kids can move on up.  I don't think that there's  any greater love than that.  And that's why, when things are looking grim in the middle of those essay days, I can count on your love and inspiration to carry me through.

* * * *

I'll be away for a while kids.  After the Bar, I'm going white water rafting up in Maine with the Charlestown kids.  Then the move-in to Russell Street begins.  Finally leaving home.  Free at last!

Good luck all of you guys!  And now, a little Irish Blessing because it's always worked...

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

And, one last  (because this one is (and has been the whole summer) pretty cool)...

Sunday, July 23

My Best To All This Week    

I don't mean to be overly dramatic over some silly little test, I merely continue a tradition in hopes of inspiring those who may harbor doubts over the coming days. And no matter the results, having experienced this firsthand, I respect all who give it their best shot.

Good luck to all taking the bar exam this week.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day
...
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

                                      

 

              

 

 

Specific Intent Crimes Much?

I had this joke about World Gym that I wanted to write about, but started to get scared about some defamation tort or another.  All I could think of was Schecter in my BarBri torts class, or what's her face from PMBR, rattling off defamation non-sense.  So I'll just paste the five stories I read on boston.com below so that you can try to assemble some whacked-out, drama-filled story of hate on your own!

FYI, Tina Fey was looking fantastic on Leno tonight, especially since she has like a 8 or 9 month old child, right?  She's so wholesome and cool... her husband's family is from Ohio, so I could totally relate and totally laughed... and her clip singing with Jimmy Fallon at Katie Couric Cancer Fundraiser reminded me of when Jimmy Fallon came to Notre Dame and showed up to the same dorm party that Kiflin, K-mos & Co. were at.... ahhhh nostalgia.

I need to finish up some essay flashcards so that I can do them while I'm eating breakfast alone at Friendly's tomorrow morning...

It's almost here.  Massachusetts Bar ends on Thursday.  Details of the aftah-bahhhhh plans will follow as they get formed.

3 Boston officers arraigned
The officers were accused of "selling their badges" to drug traffickers in a probe that could implicate other Boston police officials. (Boston Globe)

WORCESTER: 8 hurt in lightning strike

Ex-Patriot Ted Johnson arrested

Romney returns minimum wage bill

8 grocery employees stabbed in Tennessee

 

Ex-Pentagon officials accused of fraud

 

neal wants YOU on team FLUFFY!

ok, so maybe you won't get the title unless you were in Madison, Wisconsin the same weekend that I was...

Here's the deal.  I was watching Leno and got a little freaked out with Colin Farrell.  For some reason, I was like a hyper-sensitive viewer (maybe because I was blinded on my walk home from Suffolk WHILE doing my colourful flashcards, mind in brainfever, looking for a way out...) and felt a bit at dis-ease.  What is up with him?  Something awkward compared to the dude from 6 Feet Under and the Office.  So I continue to flip through flashcards, wondering why Massachusetts doesn't just adopt and codify the rules of Evidence already.  Then I give in.  I just need to watch some TV, goddamn it.  And not that I claim to be anything like Colin Farrell, but I realized I was weirded out because, at least from my present sense impressions, I could empathize: the thumbs up; the acting a little pissed off; the quasi-a-d-d.

Then, Conan came on.  Conan be cool.  And I started realizing: Conan is kind of funny, but he's also kind of scary.  Uma Thurman.  Not exactly wholesome Lindsay Lohan, but still scrumptious (a little bit of Kiflin & Kristin there for you).  Molest!  Yummy.  Hmmm.  Funny times.  Scary Conan.  Frightened.  Laughing.  Hmmm, I should call Vin.  Conan's on.  I bet she's watching.  Why aren't I tired??????  I just want to go to fuckin' bed!

I don't know if it's the No-Doze or what.  I'd like to think it's just the adrenaline.  What I do know is that going to bed isn't going to be any much better because I am just going to dream about contracts, and contingent remainders floating by easements, and manmade death traps that should have had warning signs, but didn't, and I'm dreaming, and "oh shit, there's an excited utterance that you're going to now use against me or someone else!!!"  Ayyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! 

What I do know is that I could take the Bar Exam tomorrow.  It just needs to get done.  I need to be able to work with people and solve like, problems, and not multiple choice problems.  I need to be able to drink Chocolate milk and not worry about [name your tort/evidentiary rule/breach of contract].  I need to read more than multiple choice questions.  I need to be needed, and unfortunately, the Blue PMBR book, my BarBri MAT (Massachusetts Essays Testing) doesn't give me any kind of human satisfaction.  I'm sick of random nose bleeds that I've been getting, and I'm starting to think that my estranged family and friends and neighbors are sick of me sounding like I'm a paranoid law android straight out of some demented lawed-up contortion of a Radiohead album every time I walk and talk. This like sucks, "literally from my perspective" (that was for you, Alan), walking around taking my "break" through the Boston Common by walking with my iPod on at some products-liability deafening decible level, trying to zone out on some horrid Nelly Furtado hip hop, but afraid of losing any oh-so-important 4-1-1.  Yeah, I know that this is a right of passage.  Just another week.  Just another week.  Just another week.  Just another week.

Wow, that was a tangent. 

But you should have seen me 18 minutes ago, when I was rocking to Weezer, Kelly Clarkson, and Hanson.  You would have been mortified.  And you would have laughed so hard.  Wicked hard.  So hard honey nut cheerios would have been coming out of your ass...

Currently listening to: "Say It Ain't So" (Weezer).

Colin Farrell & The Beckhams.