Om Shanti

I have the best job in the world. It seems that lately most of the people I know are sort of stuck in a strange place in regards to their working (or not working) situation. People our age have had way more jobs then our parents generation- most people probably don't even have a career at this point or have no idea what their career may end up being. The dream job is definititely worth waiting for, totally worth pursuing. I am there, I found my life's calling, my career, my dream job.

I took 2 years after college to just "figure things out" by hanging out and waiting tables. Eventually I decided to follow in my mother's footsteps and get my Masters in Early Childhood Education. After 2 years of interning full time in Brookline, Ma and then a year at a progressive pre-school in Cambridge, Ma., I fell into a first grade teaching position at a school in Coney Island in Brooklyn, NY. While my first few years of teaching in the Boston area prepared me for my first real "I have my own classroom" teaching job, I was not prepared to be a minority in a predominantly black and hispanic neighborhood. Brookline and Cambridge are extremely multi-cultural and diverse. Where I grew up was also extremely diverse. Coney Island was not. This was an eye-opening, jaw-dropping experience and very much an education into a whole other world than what watching MTV can not possibly give you.

Those years of teaching in CI gave me a completely new perspective on my life. I realized how friggin lucky I was to be born to my parents and to basically be given everything I needed to be a productive, happy member of society. These kids are not quite as lucky. They are fighting an uphill battle every day and will be until the day they die. Believe me, some will leave Coney Island or whatever other ghetto they live in because they want something more, something better. Most others will not and will continue the cycle that plagues these inner city, poverty stricken neighborhoods. And I'm not saying that every parent is the same, some were amazing. But living in the 'hood is a scary place. Ask Jay-Z, he'll tell ya.

The first 2 years there were probably the most difficult 2 years I've ever had to deal with - emotionally, physically, mentally, it almost broke me. Lots of conversations and many tears later, I realized I had a purpose and I needed to perservere. 5 years later, I knew it was exactly the job for me. But not exactly. I knew I needed to be a teacher, I knew I needed to teach kids who are considered "at-risk" who live in inner city neighborhoods, I knew though that I couldn't be a teacher in the public schools of NYC forever. I wasn't going to end up like those bitter, old teachers who were meaner to the kids then their parents (unfortunately thats what happens). I needed to get out and try to combine my 2 passions into a job that would fulfill me completely. I decided to be a children's yoga teacher. I got my certification, I worked a few months at a children's yoga place and then I decided to move to San Francisco.

Somehow, (I still don't really know how they found me) I was offered a job teaching yoga as a specialist at a non-profit pre-school in 2 of 3 different locations in SF. The Whitney Young Child Development Centers are located in poor and disadvantaged neighborhoods and service many "at-risk" students as well as many kids with special needs. This was it. I knew all my years of teaching would bring me to this place.

I walk in every morning to a barrage of 2-6 year olds hugging me and begging me "can I go with you?" These children love me and tell me that every day. I hug and kiss them and expand the minds and bodies of these precious beings. I teach them about peace and about loving themselves. I listen when they tell me they miss their dad who is in jail or when their friend is being mean to them or all about their new baby brother. When I meet their parents on occasion, they always thank me. But believe me, its not all roses. Sometimes I want to pull my hair out- disciplining is just not fun and just not what I feel like doing anymore. I left public school for that reason. And when I hear those stories, those awful stories, I want to cry for them. Sometimes I even do. But most of the time I am in heaven. I say to myself every day how lucky I am to be doing this.

On the flip side, I also teach gymnastics in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city. I go from Bayview to the Presidio almost every day. These kids are taken care of by nannies and barely see their parents. They live in beautiful houses and travel and eat really well, but ya know, they have their own share of issues. And I happen to love these kids too.

What it comes down to is that kids are kids no matter where they come from. But just know that it is clear to me (being around over 200 kids a week) just who is loved and who is ignored. Money and neighborhood aside, a parents job is to listen to, spend time with, nurture, read to, respect, feed, bathe and most of all- just love their children. What I love about my job is that its teaching me how to be a parent. Which is really the most important job there is.

So just hang in there. It's out there for everyone. Just find that thing- that job, that music, that apt, that city to live in, those friends, that relationship, those kids that makes you say "I am so lucky" every day.

I need a miracle...

I need this kid to get here sooner than later, but, barring a major evolutionary miracle, the little creation won’t be here for another four months. Until then, I’m left with a level of surrealism permeating though my daily life: there’s a major change on the way, but it’s anything but tangible right now.

Talking to anyone with children will undoubtedly always lead to some acknowledgement of their procreation being the single greatest thing to happen to them. I’ve got no reason to believe otherwise, although there is a part of me that believes this is the mantra all parents adopt; sort of similar to how Nomar claimed he loved playing in Boston. But, I believe it to be true, because with the routine nature of my nine-to-five daily tryst under the fluorescents sucking the creative spirit from me, I need that feeling more than anything. I need something to make everything worthwhile.

There is a portion of my brain telling me this is just another in a long line of my Clark Griswold-esque expectations’; I’m just setting myself up for failure again. But, how can something like bringing a child into the world be anything short of remarkable?

I’m not naïve enough to think this isn’t going to be major work. I understand there will be a astronomical amount of late nights, crying, no sleep, diaper changing, not to mention an that lifelong worry and concern I’ve signed-on for. No, I get all that and have to believe that cleaning up your child’s crap is infinitely better than dealing with co-workers’ sludge.

Truth be told, there was a time I couldn’t fathom the idea of having a child, let alone coming to grips with my current reality of impending fatherhood. But, I’m genuinely excited about things. Sure, there is a very significant frightening aspect to all of this, but the excitement seems to find a way to barely nudge-out the worry, leaving me with this surreal anticipation. And it’s this surrealistic anticipation that has me convinced this baby is exactly what I have always needed in my life.

It has only taken a mere eight years of doing the daily working world grind to sap my spirits and plunge my motivation into uncharted depths. I realize this could very well be the summer malaise sucking my concentration, but whatever the reason, I have not been able to concentrate one iota on any matter related to my job.

This has been a recurring situation for several months now. I have moments of brilliance were I am able to complete a tremendous amount of work, but these tend to occur only when I am forced into situation where issues need to be addressed. These periods are followed by long stretches of time where I sit idly while visions of a perfect life on easy street dance with the conflict of my current job and my contemplation of how I can achieve my dream job. Toss impending fatherhood and summertime laziness into the equation and I’m left with an extremely dangerous career situation that has been extremely taxing on my mental health.

And this is where the baby comes in. The 21-year old version of me is about to spit-up, but, I can not wait to become one of those parents who can talk about nothing more than what is new in their child’s life. I feel that I have been working toward one of life’s true miracles waiting for it to change my entire perspective on reality. I need to live for this because right now, it seems to be the only thing that will make working for a paycheck versus pursuing my dream job an easier pill to swallow.

Comfortably Numb

I have never been bereft of emotion when it comes to Phish. The time before tour and shows has always been filled with excitement and anticipation for the unknown. Will the band take me to that place few things in life have ever brought me to? Will I forge new friendships through the experience or further solidify existing ones? What one moment will I witness or share that will glimmer in an instant and making itself unique to only me?

There have been so many moments and memories etched into the fabric of my soul in the decade that this band has been so much a part of my life. And as I sit starring down the barrel of what may be the final two shows I’ll ever see, I’m confronted with feelings I’ve ever experienced before that is, a lack of feeling. I’m completely numb.

This anesthetized state relates back to the peace I made with the band at Shoreline in October 2000. I made the choice to view the hiatus as a break-up of sorts, a chance for me to focus on other things in my life without Phish influencing any of them. So, I got married, bought a house, started concentrating on my career and started to build my own little family. With a wife, dog and first child on the way, I’m well grounded on the path I set out to travel.

Phish coming back was merely icing on the cake for me. Those shows back became more about catching-up with old friends than getting my mind melted by the music the four guys from Vermont were raining down upon us. Which turned out to be a blessing, because, as we all know, that post-hiatus stuff was more bad than good.

But, because my band wasn’t bringing the life onstage that helped define part of me, I started to doubt the credibility of what I took from the music pre-hiatus. Was it really the party that created these moments for me? Ironically, it was in the party capital of world that I finally found my peace with modern-day Phish. Which was also the same run that was probably the catalyst for Phish pulling the plug on themselves.

When the confirmation came, like so many of us, I began scrambling to figure out which shows I could attend. The reality of it all ending proved to be the catalyst that sent me out to Wisconsin at the end of June. But in scrambling, I also realized the current older version of me decided to stay away from Coventry, choosing instead let my run end where it pretty much began, Great Woods.

When we bought our house, which rests a mere 15 minutes from Great Woods, almost three years ago, I couldn’t wait for Phish to return to the venue where it all took off, for them and me. I had visions of hosting all the friends I’ve accumulated through the band over the years in my yard for a big party. I had no idea it would turn out to be a send-off party.

Normally, I’d be in full-on planning mode right now to get ready for hosting people. But, I’m not. Sure, I’ve got some things ready for the makings of a great gathering, but I’m numb to the centerpiece of it all, the two shows.

If forced to name a specific emotion than I would have to say nervousness is the closest; nervous excitement I suppose. This is going to be the last time I get to hang with friends and the band and that has me worried. But as I started to worry about what the shows will be like for me and if I’ll provide my friends a good time, I started to realize I might drive myself crazy.

I’ve come close to mania on several occasions since Trey’s announcement, compounded by my impeding fatherhood and issues at work. Sitting at the beach the other day, on an usually cold August afternoon, I was humbled by the experience of nature and realized just what a small cog I am in the entire plan.

So, I’ve decided to try and let all anticipation float away, to not place any expectation on that 48-hour period. I’m just going to let it happen figuring they’ll be plenty of time to digest after the last note is played. I’ll be striving for those moments you capture by simply taking the time to press pause. They have always been the most meaningful to me because they are captured without preconceived thought. Those moments never end.

Keep track of your friends -- you're going to need them in end.

Almost six years ago, I wondered to the sexy next-door apartment-style dorm, in hopes of meeting other new swimmers, to explore several keg party possibilities. Several guys on the men’s team met me downstairs, checked me in, and introduced me to the rest of the team. While that night ranks amongst the best, too many crazy moments to talk about, one sticks out in my mind: meeting Vanessa, the friend who introduced me to Phish. I had heard about Phish in high school, but preferred the Grateful Dead and Dave Matthews Band for whatever reasons I had at the time.

Fast forward one year and many great memories later, I was offered the opportunity to attend the July 4th, 1999 show in Atlanta with my USC swimming teammate Katrina, but choose the Dave Matthews Band show, also at Lakewood, three weeks later. It was there that I physically met Rob, a.k.a. LTR, who I had been trading music with the past year. Both he and Vanessa emphasized the coolness that was Phish and the up coming Big Cypress. Both assured me of their presence at Big Cypress, and I proceeded to convince my sister to attend. While they never made it to BC, my sister and I were introduced to a completely new and different lifestyle: the Phish. In fact, the infamous killahwave.etree.org began as soon as I arrived back in Columbia, with the motive of ASAP show acquisition.

She and I caught two more Phish shows during summer 2000, with Vanessa, Katrina, LTR, and many, many others. Then the hiatus announcement came – I remember watching the first Vegas webcast on my computer while studying for a test. NYE 2000 was a letdown in comparison to 1999.

Fast forward to February 2001, and the Trey Winter Tour announcement. My then boyfriend camped out all night at a small USC box-office for tickets because I had a program due the next day. Of course, I occasionally walked over there to hang out and to take a break from the doldrums of programming at the lab. Not only did we get second row seats for LTR, my friend Lilli, my ex and I, but we also got 8th row seats for Vanessa, Jen and Mark.

The trey show quickly approached, and brought an unexpected call from LTR: “I was in an accident on I-20, it wasn’t my fault, but the 4-Runner is totaled. I am going to wait for Jarrett, and grab a ride with them, but most likely won’t stay in Columbia tonight.” I was disappointed, but at least he was coming. I pre-partied with some other friends, Bino and Jonas, whose huge, central hangout house was teeming with trey going phans. Upon arriving at my then boyfriend’s house, LTR had arrived with a new Atlanta crew: Tim, Ian, David a.k.a. Sip and Jarrett. Eventually, we convinced them to stay the night, and the rest is history. I kept in contact with Sip and Ian, went to a number of shows with them over the summer and fall, and eventually started dating Sip in October 2001.

That summer was an important turning point in my life because I also was introduced to the peeps. I had been perusing many message boards while at my two jobs, but didn’t post much, especially at Phans.com. It was there that I met Kevin, who decided to introduce me to the peeps (and I am forever grateful that he did). Soon-thereafter, I met Frank, who thankfully convinced me to break up with my ex-boyfriend and to take a new, more focused direction in my life. The fall semester that followed was full of high’s, such as dating Sip, the SCI run and Oysterhead, and many lows, including a micro-managing boss’s wrath and failing two classes.

However, the accumulation of friends, both older and younger, the wisdom of the peeps, the unending faith and support from my parents and sister, and, of course Sip, formed an overly adequate support group that facilitated my unlikely computer science comeback, and resulted in eventual acceptance into graduate school. These wonderful people not only helped me realize my potential in many, many avenues, but also to accept my “outside-looking-in” tendencies instead of trying to be the center of attention in any one of my seemingly infinite interests. I am and will always be forever grateful.

Fast forward three years: Coventry 2004. Thankfully, most of the aforementioned people will be there to culminate the end of a significant part of our lives. Many of us will never see another show together, while the rest will seemingly fade into the sunset as we continue to chase the proverbial musical dragon. Notably missing are LTR and Marie, as their new baby has lead them in other directions, comparatively with the Dead bringing them together in the first place. Not seeing many of these wonderful people is what I will miss the most about Phish.

30 Phish stories I can tell my kids one day

Otherwise known as "the 30 most memorable moments I've experienced thanks to Phish" - by a foreign fan:

1. Attended a wedding in Vegas
2. Walked through cornfields in Indiana
3. Crossed over the Niagara Falls on foot to Canada
4. Went to a recording studio in SF
5. Survived a hurricane in a Nashville parking lot
6. Hit the Rock n'Roll Hall of Fame
7. Nighttime drive through the Arizona desert
8. Fooled a Customs officer at a Mexican border patrol into thinking I was American
9. Spent 15 hours in traffic, 13 of which at the wheel
10. Played hacky-sack on a GA highway emergency lane in blistering heat
11. Discovered Flip The Cup and played played played
12. Had a real phamily Thanksgiving dinner
13. Drove an RV cross-country with a nitrous tank
14. Took a midnight winter stroll across the Charles River
15. Went on a 3-night Vegas binge and survived
16. Took a limo to a private party in Vegas attended by rock stars (Mike and Fish)
17. Literally tumbled out of a limo
18. Walked a San Diego beach brown-bagging a PBR tallboy
19. Walked through a traditional NY street fair
20. Saw 4th of July fireworks atop a hill overlooking the SF skyline
21. Saw 4th of July fireworks atop a hill overlooking the Philadephia skyline
22. Played bowling in an Indianapolis suburb
23. Saw a sunset at the Gorge
24. Drove along the Columbia River to Portland
25. Saw Crater Lake at sunset
26. Had a religious moment under a full moon at a concert in northern Maine
27. Witnessed a snowfall inside Madison Square Garden on NYE
28. Went on a 3-night binge in a spaceship in VA
29. Flew to Vegas and SF from Europe for 2 separate weekends
30. Hit 4 shows including a festival on a business trip to NY

and there's more
Thanks guys.

Coventry: An essay by TC

I was asked to write a 300 word essay for a Coventry ticket. Even though I knew the person asking me was too drunk to remember, I figured I'd play the game - I like games. So I sat at my computer and, like I so often do when I write, started typing without much thought just knowing I had to hit 300 words. Here's what came out:

Mail Order. Lick the stamp, seal it up, make sure you have everything you need. Self-addressed stamped envelope. Did you write down all the shows? Should you put it in the mail? You know there’s something wrong, you know it. Tickets come and no work can be done even though the shows are a month away. A month a month a month and we’re in the car riding road tripping piling in with food and friends up the Interstate, down the Pike.

The Lot. Cars slowly moving parking weaving through wooks to find the nearest graveled spot to let you out. Wander wander wander. Muffins. “TOUR EXTRA!” What’s shakin down the street? The herd flocks, ‘Let me know,’ they think, ‘I need to know’ and they do know as soon as they turn the corner and hear “Molly Nugs E Paper!” “Phatty veggie burritos!” “Porters Oaties Fat Tire!” Oh, they know all right, they know that their every last temptation desire need love can be found with a simple wave of a hand blink of an eye flash of a dollar. The energy begins to grow.

The Venue. The time rolls near your missions clear, find the nearest bathroom before you head in. Ah, no time, you feel the energy starting to prick the little hairs on your fingers as you make half time plans with your friends that rarely work out. “TICKETS OUT, HANDS UP, BAGS OPEN!” The energy grows. You make it through the doors into a sea of necks and heads, shoulder-to-shoulder you waddle, staring, phriends surrounding and the energy grows. “TOUR EXTRA!” The river of voices build magnify multiply heighten to a point of spontaneous combustion and then and then “WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” The energy is a alive now it feeds you floats you pulls you to grab the shoulders in front of you and start jumping up and down because you want to, because you can. You find your seat and check out your view of the stage waiting in anxious anxiety as you check your watch and estimate the time to the moment the energy has carried you to. And the pre-show music stops. The time has come. Everything you’ve envisioned from the minute you licked that stamp has finally emerged in front of your eyes.

The lights go out.

Little treasures hidden deep within my drawers

The announced ending has had a profound effect on my appreciation for Phish's music. First, as if it was even possible, it's made me listen to them even more. Rabidly, as if with their last show, all my CD's would disappear, vanish into thin air and I'd be left with empty CD shelves. Alternating between recent shows from the 1st part of the summer tour, to oldies and classics from 93-94, back to breakout shows in 96-97, etc etc, back and forth in Phishtory, weighing and comparing and appreciating the changes, the styles, the influences, the progression, the boldness and innovation, the evolution of their music. "The more you put in, the more you get out" said Page in Bittersweet Motel. It's true for all of us as well: the more you listen, the more you recognize the subtle shifts and changes, the tiny innovations. You learn to get in their heads and anticipate, you become prepared and "knowledgeable" , your sense of appreciation grows and grows as you comprehend the scope of their music, its power, its potential, the endless possibilities.

But these hours of listening are tainted with nostalgia these days, as the "deadline" approaches. In listening to all these shows or old albums, but also in re-reading press clippings, articles, books that I've already leafed through many times years ago, I cant seem to shake this lump in my stomach. Almost every tune I listen to sends me back to a specific moment, somewhere on a lawn or in an arena; a rush of adrenaline fills my heart as I catch a quick glimpse of what it was like at that time, to feel the bass shaking my ribcage, or the lights blinding me with ecstasy, or a drumbeat kicking in a powerful groove. The memories are vague and hazy, but are multiplying and multiplying. Little instances hidden deep inside my head, swimming upwards to the surface, briefly re-emerging after years of oblivion: faces, notes, feelings, emotions, shivers, jokes and smiles. Everything seems fresher. Even familiar, it remains as powerful as ever: so much emotion in such silly noises.

This is what strikes me more than anything. Phish has given me many things over the years and has shaped my life and character in ways I'll still be unraveling in 10 years' time I'm sure. I get to keep the memories, the travels, the adventures, the wonderful people and friends made along the way, that I fully plan on keeping in touch with, with or without this band. The end of Phish in noway means the end of all the fun we've had. We'll just have to become a little more creative, find our own canvas to paint on.

What will disappear though, and what I'll miss most, is this wide spectrum of emotions that are experienced during a show. The intense feelings of elation, and happiness, the states of confusion and loss followed by familiarity and relief: a screeching guitar riff to hold on to, a lifeline in the vast ocean that some jams can become, or a single piano note as a small but essential foothold in the climb to the jam's peak. The anticipation as the light goes down and before every single song, the excitement when hearing teases in the middle of nowhere, or just imagining them and wishing with all your might that the band is on your wavelength (or vice versa) and plunges down that road; the swaying of a slow song, the pounding of a fast song, the dancing and getting DOWN of a funk number... The trust and faith we have in giving the keys to the ride over to those 4 guys on stage, with only one simple instruction:

"Blow our minds".

Where else am I going to find that ? Not in another band. Never at this level. "The more you put in, the more you get out". I doubt I'll ever reach that level of familiarity with a band that'll allow their music to move me in such ways. The live experience is one thing, but the live Phish experience is another altogether.

So this summer, be sure to squeeze every last drop of emotion out of the songs you see. For even those that you dislike might be on their last outing, and in every song there is something to treasure, even if it's just a simple chord sequence, or a word, or a note. Be generous with your smiles and your hugs, your high fives and your woohoo's. Lap it all up as you get hosed, for this is the last time it happens. We have years and years to be critical and negative, let's just appreciate this gift one last time, together.

Induce this!

I enjoy my ritual four day weekends home every five months – invariably, my mom tells the same story six times and I end up arguing with some member of my family over a redundant misunderstanding. With family, it’s to be expected, I think. Last May’s visit was no exception – albeit the summer teaching assignments were issued two days before I left. The majority of the trip was spent planning, rendering my ability to spend time with my family at zero.

“How can I prevent this from happening?” I asked myself. “Technically, I knew my assignment would come at the end of May. I should have anticipated this.” I thought to myself.

“Or, what if the teaching assignments had been disclosed earlier, instead of the last minute?” Maybe that is where I should direct my anger.

“That’s it!” I thought. “Dr. Smith is responsible for my inability to spend time with my family because he could have given the assignment earlier, thus giving me the chance to prepare before going home.”

As farfetched as that sounds, it is analogous to the developer, consumer and copyright holder relationship in the Induce Act. For those who are saying, “What the f*** is the Induce Act?,” it’s current senate legislation that affects the liability of manufacturers and developers who make products that could be used for copyright infringement. Comparable to Dr. Smith controlling my actions based on a job assignment.

I’m sure many are now thinking, “Well, isn’t that the law now?” No – it’s not. About twenty years ago, motion picture giant Universal Studios took on Sony Corporation of America for copyright infringement liability regarding recordable VHS cassettes used with the Sony Betamax VCR. The result was the “Substantial non-infringing use” test. If the product can be used for non-infringing actions, in the case of Betamax, it was timeshifting (or recording and watching a television show at a later time without any monetary gain), then the manufacturer would not be held liable for infringements caused by the consumer.
Invariable, the “people need to stop downloading illegal music” argument rears its ugly head. While I completely agree with this perspective, I do not think that holding manufacturers responsible is the answer. Semiconductors have been successful based on consumers maintaining liability for their actions – legitimate or not. Technology would be no where near as advanced and customizable had the Universal v. Sony case been overturned.

The Induct Act can partially be attributed to the MPAA/RIAA’s refusal to operate under a post-dot-com era business model. Downloadable music sites such as LivePhish and LiveDownloads (SCI) have proved and established the viability of this market, raising the question – “If it’s profitable, why the f*** won’t they do it?”

Blame the lack of trust on America’s decreasing ability to accept responsibility for his/her actions. The popular trend of fat people blaming fast food distributors for their obesity and gun owners blaming gun manufacturers for “accidental home shootings” has started to haunt us – legislatively speaking of course.

Not only could this injustice severely constrain future technology, but also if this bill passes, my thesis work could hold me liable for third party copyright liability. The work includes “securing” (or removing security vulnerabilities) from an ad hoc network layer overlay for inspecific peer-to-peer applications. All of the unfamiliar computer jargon correlates to a way of establishing direct routes between individuals for a plethora of applications, such as file-sharing (like Kazaa), anonymous message boards (like Freenet) or communications (like AOL Instant Messenger). Additionally, the “ad hoc” designation means that the network is “self-configuring”, or doesn’t require a centralized location to connect. Analogously compare it to the Motorola Talk-Abouts that people use at big shows – an established frequency to communicate allows each person to “connect” and talk without relying on an additional tower to route the communications.

However, the “applications” that will run on top of my thesis work have yet to be developed. The purpose of developing for “inspecific p2p networks” facilitates ease of transition from one application to another using the same “secure” routing information. Imagine a medium sized company purchasing blackberry-esque devices that can seamlessly and securely communicate, share files, connect with company servers etc, for internal usage by associates throughout the world. Although similar applications exist, they are not platform inspecific, comparatively incohesive and completely insecure.

According to the Induct Act, if an average person thinks that an entity “could” facilitate copyright infringement, then the manufacturers and developers, in addition to the actual direct infringer, will be held liable. I have questioned my involvement in this project, only to realize that quitting is just giving in. Why should I stop working on a valuable project because I could be sued two years down the road for copyright infringement cause by an “inspecific application” that hasn’t been created yet?


Check out the Electronic Frontier Foundation to take action against the Induce Act!