Street Smart

One of the things I love about living in a city is the rawness of urban life.

And by rawness, I mean that what you see throughout your daily life is not always wrapped in a pretty pink box with a turquoise bow on it.

Urban living forces you to view all the dichotomies of life, by placing them directly in front of your face.

I’ve seen everything from the most horrible acts of violence to witnessing the most sensitive gestures of kindness; all within the same day.

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen someone with their pants down around their ankles; taking a leak on a building wall, while walking to work in the morning.

You also haven’t lived until you’ve seen a man standing on a street corner with a severe case of Tourette’s syndrome; screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to use the word fuck that many times in one sentence.

Nor have you lived until you’ve seen a woman walking next to you on the sidewalk SPIT; missing you by a quarter of an inch.

And that’s not even the half of it.

The trick to urban life is to not allow yourself to become so calloused that you are immune to noticing or caring.

For those of you who don’t live in a city, what I’m about to share may sound a bit harsh. But I guarantee that if you lived in a city you would have to learn how to be street smart, or be eaten up by people who are out there looking for a free ride.

And let me say that being someone who understands bankruptcy, I am totally compassionate to anyone who is genuinely in need.

After living in a city for a few years, you begin to sense the difference between those individuals who are asking for money; wanting it for alcohol or drugs, and those individuals who are sincerely destitute.

You notice the same young college students who repeatedly sit on the sidewalks with a sign in front of them that says, “Today is my birthday, could you please help me with money for food?” And what’s ironic about these same young college students, is that they’re sitting there smoking a pack of cigarettes and talking on their cell phones.

I don’t give money to everyone on the street who asks. I will only give money to those individuals who I feel in my heart to give to. Sometimes I will simply offer to buy them something to eat or drink.

Some may think that’s being judgmental. I think of it as being discerning.

Last Friday afternoon I was walking back from Trader Joe's. And as I got about two blocks from my apartment, I began to hear the sound of beautiful music coming from a saxophone. When I turned to look to my left, I saw a middle-aged man sitting on a portable little stool, playing his heart out on a saxophone. In front of him was a plastic bucket filled with a few bills. It took me a few seconds to notice that he was blind.

As the traffic light changed, I crossed the street and got about halfway down the block, when I heard a loud voice inside me say, “ Go back and give to that man.”

I only had a dollar left in my pocket, but I turned around and walked back across the street and up to this gentleman.

I said, “Hi, here you go (placing the bill in his bucket). And I just want to thank your for sharing your amazing talent.”

He said, “Thank you.”

I walked away with a huge lump in my throat.

Here was a man, who had only one thing to give to the world in the way of making money.

And he was out there doing it.

With all his heart.

Facebooked

Some of my longtime blogging friends may remember about two years ago, I shared a post about what it was like as a stage actor to receive both good and bad theater reviews.

You may have also remembered in that post, I spoke about a particular time in my career when I got a bad review and everyone else in the play got a good one. And the most painful part about this particular review was that I had the lead role.

Last week, I just so happened to click over on my Facebook profile (which I do like once every three months) and discovered that my name had been tagged in a note. When I clicked on the link, it brought me smack-dab, face to face with this theater review.

Yes….SOMEONE HAD POSTED THE REVIEW ON FACEBOOK!

OH. MY. GOD. Could you just die?

It was like a part of my past had suddenly come back to haunt me.

So, do you know what I did? I read the review again, just to see how I felt about it after all these years.

The play was called The Normal Heart.



Interestingly enough, reading it was rather therapeutic because I noticed two things.

I definitely felt myself cringe with memories of insecurity, when I got to the part that read….

“Ron Carnival plays Ned Weeks, an outspoken gay activist and writer who starts an AIDS support group in New York City at the beginning of the AIDS epidemic. Ned is alarmed that his friends are dying. But mostly he is angry -- angry at the media for not writing more about AIDS, angry at the city's health officials and politicians for ignoring the problem, angry at members of the gay community who refuse to curb their promiscuity. Ned is at odds with everyone, including himself. He has never had a long- term lover, never really been in love. But then he becomes involved with Felix, a New York Times reporter, who is able to see the vulnerability beneath Ned's porcupine exterior. But the audience has seen Ned as a nice guy all along, because of the way Carnival underplays the role. He's not angry enough to support the script in the first act. Then, in the second act, he's too angry, railing on and on at friend and foe alike. There's no modulation and little variety in his performance. Others in the cast fare better…..”

Yet, seeing this review again also made me realize something else.

Now that I’m older and looking back, I realize this review was 100% correct. Really. I did portray the role that way. I was much younger and not seasoned enough, as both an actor and a human being to understand the complexities and levels to this character, so I floundered.

But, I also remembered some of the lessons I learned from this experience.

I learned that if I’m not willing to take chances and move into territories which are not familiar to me, then I will never grow.

I learned that as long as I try, there is no such thing as failure. Because I am only able to experience something at the level of growth I am at the time, but can use that time to grow for future experiences.

Which I did.

And lastly, after reading this review again, I learned to see truth……and accept it.

Have a beautiful weekend everyone!

X

I Just Don't Have Any Comma Sense

I think if I had to pay for every time I used a comma, my Visa card would already be maxed.

I love using comma’s, however I truthfully have no idea where they go or where to place them. I usually just insert them wherever I take a breath in my thinking, or whenever I want to make a sentence look more esthetically attractive.

(I’m a Libra, what can I tell you?)

I mean does a comma always go after the word but or so?

But, I like it that way.

So, tell me the truth.

And does a comma always proceed the word because?

I walked across the street, because I needed to get to the other side.

Another place I’m confused about comma usage is in this sentence.

Yesterday, I came home from work to find that the comma key on my computer was missing. I freaked!

Should a comma go after the word yesterday?

And do I really need to use a common in this sentence?

Happy Birthday, my friend.

Lately, I’ve been trying to notice how other writers use comma’s in their blog posts, but I still can’t find an answer because everyone seems to use comma’s differently.

I also read something online that said you can never really use too many comma’s. So, if in doubt….use them.

But, I serious sense that one day I may use up all the comma's in the world, and will have to resort to this….

Hi (comma) my name is Ron Carnavil (comma) and I’m seriously thinking about taking an English course (comma) because I have no comma sense. So (comma) can someone recommend a school (comma) or I fear there will soon be a comma shortage.

So, if you could share any tips about comma usage in your comments, I would greatly appreciate it.

Thank you everyone!

P.S. Oh….and by the way, right after I wrote this post, I found an interesting picture on the internet depicting the various positions that comma’s do the nasty.

Horny little buggers, aren’t they?

It’s no wonder I love using comma’s.

More on why I love cats.....

Allow me to preface this post by saying that just because I love cats, doesn’t mean I don’t love dogs.

I repeat…

Just because I love cats, doesn’t mean I don’t love dogs.

And the reason I stress this point is because out of the four years I have been blogging, I’ve noticed that some of the most heated comments in blogland have resulted from people debating cats versus dogs and dogs versus cats. In fact, last year I wrote a simple post about one of my previous cats and deleted a comment because someone said something very nasty about cats. Needless to say, that someone is no longer welcomed here.

That being said, I love and respect dogs equally as much as I do cats. In fact, I was raised in a family that had dogs as pets. As well as, bunny rabbits, ducks, turtles, and hamsters. However, it wasn’t until I got much older did I learn to love and appreciate cats.

I think one of the main reasons why people don’t like cats is because they can’t control them.

Cats do whatever they want; whenever they want to.

Cats have taught me one of the most valuable lessons in life.

I cannot control anyone.

Oddly enough, that was the most freeing feeling in the world because my nature is to want to control.

Many believe that cats are not affectionate, which is a total misconception. They can be very affectionate, but on their own terms. And if you think about it, some people are affectionate and others are not. If you could have seen how affectionate my parents’ cat was with my father on his deathbed, you would be amazed at how loving and loyal cats can be. That cat barely left my fathers side until he passed away.

Many people believe that cats are too independent, therefore what’s the point of even having one? I for one admire independence, so perhaps that’s why I love them.

Many believe that cats are less like people, which is also a total misconception. They are very much like people because people have moods and certain times when they don’t feel like being bothered. Cats need their space. So do people.

Cats are as much like people as people are different. Each cat is unique.

I suppose the main reason why I love cats is because they dance to their own music; drumming to their own beat. You can stand on your head, beg, plead, and bargain to try and get a cat to do something, and they’ll look at you as if to say, “Excuse me…..but are you talking to ME?”

I would like to close this post by sharing a short video I discovered through a delightful blogger friend of mine, Jan, over at Finally Getting To Even.

This video is only one from a brilliant series of animated cartoons that have been created by London artist Simon Tofield, entitled, Simon‘s Cat. So, if you have some time this weekend, please stop by to view more of his brilliant videos. They’re hysterical!

The first time I saw this video, I played it FIVE times and laughed until my teeth vibrated out of my mouth.

Yes….this is WHY I love cats.

Wishing you a purrrrfect weekend everyone!

Meow….X

We Are Never Alone

Back in 2004, I did something that was not usual for me. I suddenly decided to quit my job and take the money I had in my savings account and live for the next three months without working. Up until that point, I hadn’t taken a single vacation in probably ten years. So, I gave my two weeks notice, and then a week later I took a 7-day solo retreat in the Pocono Mountains.

I knew I was at a point in my life where I needed time alone to clear my mind and reconnect to my soul.

I felt lost and confused.

During that week I had no phone, computer, or TV. I took only one music CD and my portable player, a journal, and my camera. I awoke every morning whenever I felt like it, ate breakfast, took three hour walks in the snowy mountains, wrote in my journal, and allowed myself to be totally immersed within nature. At night I would eat dinner, take a shower, write in my journal, and went to sleep whenever I felt like it.

The first morning I awoke, I walked to the top of a steep hill that overlooked the mountains. I sat on a small bench and sobbed uncontrollably, as I decompressed from all the tension I had been holding onto. I could literally feel the earth begin to heal my weary soul. I remember it being so cold, that it actually froze my tears.

At first, it felt very strange not living my days on a schedule. However, by the third day I had grown accustomed to it; allowing myself to relax and just go with the flow. I took each moment as it came.

What truly amazed me about spending those days in silence, was that there was no silence. What I mean is that in the silence, I was finally able to hear.

The voice of a Higher Power.

And for seven days I just listened…..without ever speaking.

It would take much too long for me to share all the things I heard while I was there, but I would like to share one experience that made me realize we are never alone. That we are always held, cared for, and guided throughout our lives.

And that there are such things as angels.

On the last day that I was on this retreat, I took one final walk to the place where I had gone on my first day. I went to the top of the hill and sat on the bench overlooking the mountains. I wanted to say thank you for the time I had spent there. I silently thanked the sky, the air, the trees, the snow, and the mountains.

I thanked the Higher Power.

Right as I got up to leave, I heard a voice that said, “Take out your camera and point it here, and take a picture.” So, I did.

Then I heard the voice say again, “Now take another picture.” So, I did.

Afterward, I turned around and began walking back to the retreat house, when I heard the voice say one last time, “Point your camera here and take a picture.” I did.

When I got back to the city, I immediately had my rolls of film developed. The next day I picked them up and then eagerly sat on my apartment floor; reliving my retreat. And to be honest with you, I had totally forgotten about taking those three pictures on my last day there.

However, when I saw them I knew exactly why I had been asked to take them.

Photo 1: First, notice my footprints in the snow. Then notice the orange swirl of light above them.

Photo 2: Notice the pinkish purple square of light above my footprints.

Photo 3: Now notice how the two colors came together.

Initially, when I first looked at these photos I thought, “ Well, perhaps the colors where formed from the glare of the sun against the camera lens.”

And perhaps they were.

But then I thought, “Even if they were, what if they were made that way on purpose?”

We are never alone…

Annie Leibovitz: Life Through a Lens

I much prefer books and movies that are biographical.

I love knowing about REAL people.

Earlier this week I watched an awesome documentary on the life of one of my favorite photographers, Annie Leibovitz. It was entitled, Annie Leibovitz: Life Through a Lens.

What’s so astonishing about Annies’ body of work is that it encompasses such a wide variety of photography. From her raw black and white photos to her spectacular surreal images, she runs the gamut of visual delights.

She has shot for Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair and Vogue magazines; capturing musicians, movie stars, and political figures.

Annie has a brilliant way of never compromising her own creative style as a true artist, yet at the same time is a highly successful commercial photographer.

You most definitely know a Annie Leibovitz photograph, because she puts her unique stamp on it.

All of the celebrities who were interviewed in this documentary, shared that Annie has the remarkable ability to capture the true essence of who they are. She has a way of knowing how to get that one perfect shot; exposing their souls.

“Between Annie and her subject is a transcendence. There is magic.”

She is notorious for being a perfectionist and demanding, yet everyone who has ever worked with her or been photographed by her said that it doesn’t come from a temperamental ego, but rather because she has clear vision of what the end result should be, and won’t stop until she gets it.

Being an OCD perfectionist myself, I can totally relate. Ironically, Annie Leibovitz and I share the same birthdate.

I would like to share some of Annies' work with you. I’ve selected a diversity of photographs, so you can get an idea of her amazing talent.

Life through a lens….

Inside the Peninsula Hotel

Po' Monkey's Lounge, Merigold, Mississippi

Emmylou Harris

Mary J. Blige

Willie Nelson

Bette Milder (Rolling Stone)

Leonardo DiCaprio (Vanity Fair)

Queen of England

Nicole Kidman (Vogue)

Julianne Moore as The Little Mermaid

Keira Knightly in the Wizard of Oz (Vogue)

Mikhail Baryshnikov as Peter Pan




Have a picture perfect weekend everyone!

X





*Note: To discover more of Annie Leibovitz, please go here.

Pork Chops a la Easy-Off

Right before I wrote this post I called my mother in Florida to asked her the details, because I wanted this story to be absolutely accurate. And also, because after you read it I didn’t want you to say, “Oh Ron, you silly man, you made this up didn’t you?”

Let me start by saying that my mother is smart, intuitive, humorous, a wonderful conversationalist, and just a really great human being. She loves and respects animals and nature with all her heart, so that just goes to show you how great she is.

However……

She can sometimes be a smidgen absentminded.

My father use to always refer to her as Lucy from the TV show I Love Lucy, because he never knew if he was going to walk in from work one day and discover one of his children accidentally thrown inside the washing machine with their clothes on.

Oh, and another great thing about my mother is that she’s an excellent cook.

Well, that is….as long as she notices the difference between a cooking product and an oven cleaner.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I was already living in NYC at the time, so I was saved from this little accident.

Thank god and baby jesus.

It all started when my mother came home from grocery shopping one day and inadvertently placed a new can of Easy-Off Oven Cleaner in the kitchen cabinet above the stove where she normally kept the Pam Cooking Spray. And placed a new can of Pam in the kitchen cabinet below the sink where she normally kept the Easy-Off.

On that same day she decided to make pork chops for dinner, so before she closed the oven door she gave the seasoned chops a hearty spray with Pam to help brown them.

Throughout the afternoon before my father and brother came home, she kept smelling oven cleaner permeating air, but assumed the odor was coming from a slight burn-off residue that was left from her oven cleaning earlier that week. So, she really didn’t give it anymore thought.

As my father and brother sat down for dinner that night, she placed a pork chop on each of their plates.

Naturally, they began to eat.

My mother, being someone who likes to tidy up the kitchen before she sits down to eat dinner, began putting certain things away. And as she was placing the can of Pam back into the cabinet, she suddenly noticed the front label.

Easy-Off (she froze)

She slowly turned around and looked at my father, saying, “ Um, Frank….how do those pork chops taste?

He replied with a full mouth, “GREAT hun….never tasted better.”

“Well, please don’t eat any more and try not to get too upset when I tell you this, but I’ve done a terrible thing….

Epilogue: Miraculously, my father and brother never got sick or even dropped dead from the poisonous pork chops. However, from that moment on my father quit his job and stayed home and cooked the meals, while my mother got a lucrative job cleaning ovens.

Okay, I admit it….I made up that last sentence.

Your Office is Open

When I was kid there was a saying my father would always use on us boys, whenever we forgot to zip up our pant fly.

He would say, “Your office is open.”

And OH. MY. GOD…..that would embarrass the hell out of us, because to think we were walking around with our zipper open was like SO risqué .

Which makes me laugh, considering how many young people nowadays (guys AND girls), I see walking around with their pants hanging so low you can actually see their underwear. And sometimes the crack of their butt. It’s like they can’t quite decide if they want their pants on or off, so they just wear them halfway between. Which always looks as though they’re getting ready to fall off because they just had an sudden bowel explosion. I honestly don’t know how they do it. I mean do they use Velcro or Stitch Witchery to hold their pants in place? And how do they walk?

I realize this “look” represents a current hip-hop fashion trend, but to me it looks like a fashion FELONY.

I’m trying to imagine fashion icon, Coco Chanel, walking around like this today. I know she was the first clothing designer to create a more loose-fitting style for the women of her day, but I wonder how she would feel about clothes fitting THIS loose…



The sight of this truly irritates me beyond measure. It irritates me as much as wire hangers irritated Joan Crawford.

I want to scream, “NO PANTS HANGING BELOW YOUR ASS…..EVER!!!”

Such as it was the other day, while taking a quick coffee break at Starbucks. I noticed a 20ish something guy getting up from the table to leave, when all of a sudden I saw “it”….

….his pants hanging down below his plaid boxer shorts.

And no, I didn’t scream anything at him. But I wanted too, trust me.

Instead I thought, “Do you know how ridiculous you look? How embarrassing.”

Later that afternoon while I was walking out of the post office, I just so happen to look down at the front of my own pants.

And lo and behold.

My office was WIDE open……

And I thought, “Do you know how ridiculous you look? How embarrassing.”

Don't forget to check your fly's this weekend everyone!

X

Life....it's full of surprises

Last week, I read an awesome post that was both humorous and extremely thought-provoking.

If you would like to treat yourself to some wonderful writing, please visit Blunt Delivery. Not only does this lady have a unique talent with words, but she’s also very gifted with a camera.

Trust me, you’ll be happy you stopped by.

Her post really stuck with me throughout the weekend, inspiring me to elaborate a little more on my own feelings regarding this topic.

So, thank you Brit!

Basically, what she shared was that it seems that no matter how much we may sometimes dream and plan for our lives, life will unavoidably give us surprises; changing our dreams and plans.

She said, “If you think about it, life is nothing, but a series of surprises.”

Then asked, “So, is it dangerous to dream? And is our happiness measured by the achievement of dreams, or plans? Or is the destruction of our dreams the way we truly live and grow? And if broken dreams are inevitable, how do we maintain happiness amid the constant challenge of rebuilding?”

I shared with her in my comment that I (for my own life) believe in destiny; knowing my life has already been designed on a higher level. But that dreaming and planning are valuable, because if I didn’t dream, plan or make choices, then I would never take action in discovering my destiny.

And this is where I think surprises come in.

I believe the surprises that my life gives me are the surprises I am meant to experience, because they are actually part of my destiny. Some of these surprises may take my life down a different path than what I had dreamed or planned; causing it to change. And as challenging as some changes have been in my life, these same changes eventually made me realize that THIS was where my life was suppose to go. And once I relaxed into these changes….I noticed that I grew in some way. I found that the challenge was not in rebuilding my life, but rather in accepting it for exactly where these surprises took me.

And quite often, my surprises ended up making me much happier and more fulfilled than what I had imagined for myself.

Therefore, I don’t believe my dreams and plans are ever destroyed.

They just naturally shift, as I grow.

Following my destiny……