A few days ago, I asked my friends and family to submit questions they want me to answer for a post. Some responded with intellectual, thought-provoking inquiries (read: Queen Elizabeth). Others asked completely nonsensical questions (read: Spencer Griffin).
This is me answering all of them. I’ll try to be as candid and off-the-cuff as I can, because you deserve it.
What scientific breakthrough do you hope happens in your lifetime?
I don’t know if it’s technically a “scientific” breakthrough, but I’m all hot and bothered by the thought of a working Hyperloop system. I’d love to be able to travel all over the country with time and cost considerations minimized. I could play softball in CT and still work in CA. I could be home for holidays easily. I could visit friends and family all over the place.
Describe your last night in Connecticut before the move.
I was hammered.
In all honesty, I believe the question-asker here was referring to the second to last night home before I drove across the country. We had a get-together at Spartan’s for my friends and family. We filled the place wall-to-wall.
We laughed and smiled. We took ceremonious shots. We reminisced. We cried. I cried.
I was driven home in my brand new car by two of my very good friends (good lookin’ out, Glenn and Jay). I woke up the next morning and started to pack.
What was going through your mind when you dressed up at Relay for Life?
Haha! Still waiting to see if someone can find a photo.
In high school, I was very involved with our student government body that was in charge of our team for Relay For Life. By “very involved” I mean I went to the event each year, whether I raised the amount of money I was supposed to, and was a general lunatic.
It was an overnight event and at around midnight each year, there would be a fashion show. Each team would be given a bag of odd items they would have to create an outfit from. Each team chose one model, and then there would be a runway fashion show of the different submissions.
I was the model each year I was there.
And these outfits were absurd. I remember balloons and duct tape. I remember chaffing. I remember streamers and a weird hat.
Someone find photos.
East coast or west coast?
In the words of the Notorious B.I.G., “If I got to choose a coast I got to choose the East…”
I’m more of an east coast person, personality wise. I’m busier. I’m rushed. I don’t really relax or lean back like Californians do. I’ve gotten better since I’ve been out here, but it takes a lot to get used to.
More on this dynamic later.
What is the meaning of life?
Having a life with meaning. To me, it’s about bringing people from different backgrounds together: either for a party, over a news item, a piece of writing, anything. Life is about learning from others, connecting with others, enriching your life through other people’s experiences and expertise.
Slam, marry, kill: Jennifer Lawrence, Sandra Bullock, Queen Elizabeth
Great question. Important question.
This, of course, is the timeless “slam, marry, kill” scenario in which you are given three people and you must designate one to slam, one to marry, one to kill. Since “slam” is one option, the premise is that the marriage would be plutonic. Kill is self-explanatory.
Everyone got it? Good. Let’s dive in.
Though I can easily see each one of these lovely ladies falling into each of the categories, what’s awesome about this game is that it forces you to commit to one. You have to be decisive. You can’t be wishy washy. Life is made up of too many shades or gray sometimes, this game is simply black and white. And slamming.
Slam: Sandra Bullock. Preferably on a school bus that is speeding out of control.
Marry: Jennifer Lawrence. We’d get really drunk and rowdy. It’d be awesome. If I married Jennifer Lawrence, our celebrity nickname would be Martin Lawrence.
Kill: Queen Elizabeth. Because this is America.
What makes Spencer Griffin so lame?
For those of you who don’t know Spencer Griffin, he is the least known member of the Griffin family on the FOX cartoon sitcom Family Guy. Just kidding, he’s a wonderful gentle giant whom I’ve know for years. I’ve always cherished our friendship.
What makes him so lame? I don’t know man. Kid’s a dump.
Pulp or no pulp?
I don’t understand the question. Is there whiskey with pulp?
If you could breed two animals of any kind, what two animals and why?
A cat and a dog. Because the cat would NOT be into it at all.
What was it that made you become a more successful person? What drove you?
Success is relative. I don’t consider myself successful, but I think I’m on the right track.
What drives me?
My mother. My brothers. My friends. My family. Where I came from. The people who associated me with that and wrote me off.
Set goals. Write them down.
Bet on yourself. (More on that later.)
Did you ever have any self reflections while working in the C-store?
The C-Store was the convenience store instead the UConn Co-op bookstore, at which I worked for all four years on campus. The C-store was the “bitch job.” No one wanted to be there. You were by yourself all the way in the back. Management would regularly forget that they had someone in there. When I became front desk management, I would forget the person I sent there. They, of course, would need a break and would need to eventually need to be relieved so they could go home.
Freshman year I worked the closing shift there 8-midnight on Friday nights for a couple months. I don’t think I had very many self-reflections in there, but I do remember eating a ton of junk food and drinking on the job. (Sorry, Gail. Love you.)
Surfrider or J. Timothy’s for your last meal ever?
This question, of course, draws on the “last meal” scenario during which you must choose your final meal as a living person just before you are brought to the electric chair. And these are two mighty fine options.
Surfrider is a burger joint in Santa Cruz that will literally make you see Jesus Christ himself. Fresh, homemade sourdough buns, grass-fed burgers. The Indicator is my go-to. Cheddar cheese, a giant onion ring and BBQ sauce. I will LITERALLY never understand vegetarians.
J. Timothy’s is, of course, a Buffalo wing joint in the heart of Connecticut. Their “dirt-style” wings are fried and then dipped into a delicious, homemade sauce.
AND THEN THEY’RE FRIED AGAIN. AND DIPPED IN SAUCE. AGAIN.
J. Tim’s. It ain’t close.
Please leave new questions in the comments. I’ll do another one of these in a couple weeks
DAY 12: MAKING MY WAY BACK TO CLEVELAND DAY 11: ON FIRE DAY 10: ON CONNOTATION AND DENOTATION DAY 9: ON THE TIME I BROKE MY RIBS DAY 8: ON THE FOUR UNDERSTANDINGS FOR A HAPPY LIFE DAY 7: DEAR ERIC DAY 6: ON WHY YOU’RE HAVING TROUBLE DATING IN YOUR 20′S, LADIES DAY 5: ON SUNRISES AND SUNSETS DAY 4: ON PARADISE DAY 3: ON SMOKE AND WHISKEY DAY 2: ON HOW CLOSE I WAS TO NOT EVEN GOING TO COLLEGE DAY 1: WHY I’M WRITING EVERY DAY FOR 40 DAYS