Benjamin Rubenstein's Blog, page 8

FDX Africa: This is Way Better Than ‘Planet Earth’

Last month I traveled to Tanzania in east Africa and I wrote this story about my trip.

As published in the First Descents blog
My new friend Spaceballs and I walk through the tall grass at the Lake Manyara Rift Valley and enter the clearing where zebras, jackals, gazelle, wildebeest and warthogs all roam close enough to kill us before we could utter “hakuna matata.” We turn our heads and see more animals. Then we turn our bodies in a full circle and see animals everywhere. We are wearing long pants and button-downs coated in permethrin to deter malaria-carrying mosquitos, safari hats, daypacks, sunglasses and binoculars.

All that lies between the animals and us is Lingato, our guide who is a Massai warrior. Lingato, dressed in a red sheet, holds a spear with which he can throw at and hit a precise blade of grass fifteen feet away. Lingato tells us about the time he killed a lion—out of self-defense and never for sport. “When lion attacks, I throw my spear from far enough away that if I miss then I can still grab my knife. That is my last line of defense. Maasai warriors do not fear the lion. Maasai warriors do not hesitate.”

Lingato says it is possible for two lions to attack at once. “I only have one spear, so I can only kill one lion.”

He doesn’t describe exactly how we would survive if two lions attack.

This is Africa. Keep reading FDX Africa: This is Way Better Than ‘Planet Earth’ .

Nine Years of Blogging

Last Friday I was on a plane headed to Sarasota, Florida, where that night I was the guest speaker at services at Temple Beth Israel, and will speak again at its adult education class Monday. I rehearsed my talking points on the plane. I opened my speech with a story from my 2011 Birthright Israel trip and needed to re-read my blog post about that trip to remember the story's details.

I've been blogging for nine years and, more than my blog's entertainment value for you (at least I hope it has been entertaining!), for me it has become a wonderful peek at my life and my past adventures. The average blogger stops after three months. I'm in it for life.

This is my 420th blog entry. In cancerslayerblog's first year—back when it was titled I've Still Got Both My Nuts—I posted 70 entries. Last year I posted 22, and this year I'm on pace for far fewer. At 23 years old, I had misconceptions about how websites and articles gain popularity and go viral. I saw super popular mommy blogs and thought, I could do that with funny cancer stories and get millions of visitors!
I didn't consider the readers' preferences and how demand for mom/kid/dog stories differs from stories about teens getting boners during cancer checkups (my second blog post, titled "Salutations"). I toiled for years tweaking the blog's look and feel. I studied the best times of the day and week to get the most readers, and wrote as many entries as I could while still studying or working full-time. I don't regret writing my 420 blog entries because they built my skills for what I'm doing now.

I'm in a master's program in creative writing in fiction. Every semester I must read ten books and write 125 pages of prose. Right now I'm writing flash fiction, which is stories about 750 words in length; later, I will write slightly longer stories and also much longer stories. I will submit the best of these stories for publication. And I will publish many of the remaining ones on this blog. I hope you enjoy some of my fiction.

You will continue seeing new blogs from me, ranging from updates on my writing to short stories to published articles in The Huffington Post and other sites. I just won't be posting frequently. I have also decided to post some of my shorter writing and ideas, and tons of photos, on Facebook instead of this blog, so visit that site for more content.

Thanks for reading and tolerating stories of boners and other ridiculousness.

Regards
Benjamin

Post on the Bulletin Board at Your Own Risk

People will draw funny things on marketing material. If you're going to post something on your apartment building's bulletin board then assume the worst will happen to it.

I noticed this in my elevator. No, I didn't draw on it—someone did that before I got the chance. Yes, I made a video about it, which you can watch on YouTube or directly below if your Web browser allows.

An Illiterate Walks Into an MFA Program

As published in The Huffington Post

Despite having written two nonfiction books, I don't know how to write. Shh.

Have you ever done something without knowing how but you just did it anyway and could never explain it? That's me for writing, and now I'm attending a low residency Master of Fine Arts in creative writing program for fiction.

I arrived at the program's first ten-day residency in Maine with my cohorts, ranging from 22 to 86 years old, all excited to avert real life for a week and a half. I first met Cameron, who had just finished undergrad, and we went out for lunch. Cameron played outfield for his college baseball team but writing is his real passion. I admired how he writes every day no excuses. He built writing into his daily life, like brushing my teeth, and even then every so often I drink whiskey and forget.

During the residency, I often sat with Cameron in front of our hotel rooms after seminars just listening. Cameron taught me about profluence--keeping the story going--and inserting detail and untraditional sentences at select moments. Cameron offered as much valuable insight as the bestselling authors who served on the faculty. He helped me maintain footing in an otherwise overwhelming environment.

"What writing classes did you take in college?" I said.

"Just Reading in Poetry. And Adventures in Nonfiction, Argumentative Writing, Literary Theory, Major American Authors, Brit Lit 1 and 2, Film and Literature Adaptation, Grammar, Young Adult Lit, Comparative Lit, and two creative writing classes. How about you?"

"...Shit this pho is spicy!" Keep reading An Illiterate Walks Into an MFA Program.

Beginning my Low Residency MFA in Creative Writing

I have been busy and, I think, this has been the longest amount of time in between blog posts since I began blogging nine years ago. My latest video suggests why. You can watch it below (if your browser allows) or directly on YouTube.

My Stanford Prison Experiment While Waiting in Line for 'Star Wars'

As published in The Huffington Post

The scene reminded me of the 1971 experiment on authority which suggested why Nazis conformed, only instead of cells with prisoners there was an IMAX movie theater full of Star Wars nerds.

My numbered wristband revealed when I could enter the IMAX theater at the National Air and Space Museum the night Star Wars: The Force Awakens opened. I would be the 362nd nerd in the theater because I arrived only 90 minutes before the showing instead of 630 minutes like the luckiest nerd, Number 1.

Screw this. I cut through the pack, weaving between ropes, to stand with my friend Griffin who had arrived 150 minutes early.

"Do not cut in line or stand out of order!" a uniformed man who was standing outside the roped area screamed to the moviegoers. "You will enter the theater single-file! We will check your wristband! If you are out of order we will remove you! There will be no saving seats!"

Nerds began chattering, asking other nerds "What number are you?" to ensure they lined properly. When nerds asked about my number, I said, "I'm just standing with my friend," and pocketed my right hand.

"Good luck, I hope you make it," nerds said patting me on the back.

The line began moving and solemn nerds shuffled towards the leader, the man checking wristbands, in front of the theater. I quickly considered what to say to that man justifying my disorder in as few words as possible. Keep reading My Stanford Prison Experiment While Waiting in Line for 'Star Wars'.

Rocky VII

Creed snuck up on us like a left hook from 27-year-old Rocky Balboa. Creed is the latest film in the Rocky franchise and hit us all in the face for doubting Sylvester Stallone (yes, I know he didn’t write the screenplay this time, but come on). It has a 93 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes and an 8.7 on IMDB. “Five star movie of the year best actor best supporting actor top 25 movies I've ever seen,” I emailed JD when it ended.

I still smiled hours after seeing the movie in the theater on Thanksgiving, thinking of the character I grew up with, loved, and considered my last line of defense against cancer; of the music that inspired my stem cells to flourish during my transplant; and of hitting something. Thankfully I have an 80-pound heavy bag for that.

The original Rocky released in November 1976 and won three Oscars including Best Picture. In 1982, when Stallone was 36, Philly placed a statue of Rocky at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the site of the “Rocky Steps.” Not even Tom Brady, 38, has a statue (yet). Rocky will remain part of Philadelphia's, and America’s, culture. I celebrate, instead of tease (yes, Rocky V stunk but they can’t all be winners), the people who have made Rocky special for 39 years.

Small Spoiler Below Related to Rocky’s Health, Hinted at in the Trailer. Stop Reading If You Wish.
Climbing the Rocky Steps and seeing Rocky's statue at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in September 2012Some critics criticized the film for forcing drama by having Rocky develop cancer. By the end of this year, there will be an estimated 1,658,370 new cancer cases diagnosed in the U.S. Most of those people can’t afford to pause life so they continue working, parenting, attending school, and living. They contribute as best they can.

It is not cheap or forced for Rocky to develop cancer and continue training Creed as best he can. It is reasonable that he could be one of the 1.6 million diagnosed who continue living and striving to succeed. I commend Creed for sharing a small piece of the cancer world in a way that doesn’t dominate the plot and isn’t over the top.

'I Like the Shawties': Cruising the Caribbean

Listerine ‒ the oral cancer-causing mouthwash ‒ meant something else two weeks ago when I cruised to celebrate my friend Infinicuralier’s wedding, which took place mid-cruise in Grand Cayman. Cruises are expensive to begin with. And they are extravagant if you don’t smuggle “Listerine” on board.
Infinicuralier and me carefully pouring lowest-shelf Colonel's Pride whiskey ($10 for a liter) into an empty Listerine bottle, which I placed in my checked bag and smuggled onto the cruise shipMy stateroom mate, Crabcakes, and I sat on our balcony many evenings searching for sharks with cool glasses of Colonel’s Pride Colonel’s Pride in my hand and anything but Colonel's Pride in his.
Crabcakes and I could watch this from our stateroom balcony for hours every day. We had no mobile or internet service and, at this point an hour into our cruise, guessed we were still off the coast of Miami, Florida, which seemed to stretch for dozens of miles. Few other experiences throughout my life have made me feel both so small and at peace than looking out at the endless water and stars in the sky, and the curvature of the Earth.“Search for sharks” meant something else last week, too.

Twenty, from the wedding party, had told me she was scared of sharks and wanted to walk around the cruise ship deck, so to isolate Twenty away from the group one night I said to her, “Let’s go search for sharks,” and we left. I was just being witty and awesome. When I later returned to my stateroom and joined Crabcakes on the balcony I realized the amazing trend I had started.

Crabcakes: When you said “Let’s go search for sharks,” nobody thought much of it. Then Infinicuralier said, “Does that pickup line actually work?” I said, “Hell no it doesn’t work!” Then Infinicuralier’s dad got on the dance floor and placed his hand perpendicular on his forehead and waved it from side to side, like a shark fin. I thought I was going to die laughing. Then a random woman from North Carolina came over to Infinicuralier’s dad and asked about “the shark fin” dance move, and she started doing it! Soon enough, everybody on the dance floor started doing “the shark fin.”

The next time you go clubbing and see “the shark fin,” now you know.
Shark fin foam hat from Margaritaville that Infinicuralier's dad bought me.I had never been on a cruise before and didn’t know that Holland America caters to the plus-90-year-old crowd. The only three single girls on the ship of 2,100 people approached me, not because I am irresistible but because there were even fewer single men. I’ll cruise with the geriatrics any time.
Our Holland America ship, the Eurodam, docked at its own private island, Half Moon Cay, in Bahamas.On most cruises the ship docks at exotic locations in the morning and departs the same afternoon. Though I prefer to experience new locations completely, including after sundown, we made the most of our time in Key West, Florida; Grand Cayman; the Bahamas; and Falmouth, Jamaica.
Our stateroom attendant ruled and made us towel creatures. He made this lazy bunny (left), and Crabcakes and I transformed it into this degenerate bunny (right).I anticipated that Jamaican vendors would push their products on tourists. That is how they make a living and I appreciate how they must always be jovial and high performing. They can’t afford lethargic days on the job like many office workers.

Some from our group hadn’t expected aggressive sellers and were caught off guard. While walking around Falmouth, their urge to return to the port complex – along with dwindling tourists and increasing drug sellers as we got further from the port – led us to the real treasure of the trip: Jamaican rum. (Besides my close friend from childhood’s wedding, obviously, in case he or his new wife reads this.)

Crabcakes, BakedAlaska and I drank Jamaica’s own Appleton Estate rum at a small bar near the ship. Our bartender, a guy in his early-to-mid twenties who moonlights as a DJ, talked with us all afternoon about his culture and lifestyle, and in exchange we convinced passersby to buy his drinks. I later bumped into several others from the cruise who had apparently joined us at the bar and knew my name. I remembered the pretty German’s name. The rest, I didn’t recall ever having met.

“This is a good job, mon. Better than being out there [outside the port complex]. It’s tough getting this job. Very competitive. You have to know someone. Once you get it, you don’t give it up. Plus I can drink rum every day.

“How many people on your ship? You have lots of old people. I like the Carnival ships. They’re big and full of pretty young women. Last week these girls were doing body shots off the bar. First from their belly buttons and then from their. . .”

I tired of delicious fruity drinks and switched to drinking rum neat. “You want to try ‘white lightning’?” our bartender said.

“That’s white rum,” BakedAlaska said. “It doesn’t even list its proof. It’s considered ‘overproof.’ I bet it is 80 percent alcohol.”

“Pour it!” I said.

Ever since I developed an obsession with reaching and maintaining ultra-low body fat I have sacrificed sugar- and calorie-dense substances in favor of plainer ones, including alcoholic beverages. I switched from beer to vodka sodas to whiskey on the rocks to whiskey neat. I now tolerate drinking anything straight.

Everyone tried some of my white lightning. “It tastes like rubbing alcohol!” the pretty German said.

When I finished white lightning I slammed the empty cup down, proud in my accomplishment and thrilled to never have to drink another white lightning.

It was almost time for us to return to the ship. BakedAlaska explained which type of Appleton rum I wouldn’t find in the States and should buy from the duty-free shop across the complex. I entered the shop, forgot the reason I was there and grabbed the less expensive type that U.S. stores also sell.

I brought my rum to the cashier, a Jamaican woman in her forties. “Do you like Jamaicans?” she said. “I’m looking for a husband. I like the shawties.”

The other cashier said, “Yes she does. You’re built strong and shawt and perfect for her. Have you been with a larger Jamaican woman? She’ll do things nobody else will.”

My first marriage proposal: the highlight of my trip including the wedding, even if Infinicuralier or his wife reads this.

I returned to the small bar. “You didn’t get the 12-year-aged rum like I told you!” BakedAlaska said.

Fucking white lightning.

I returned to the duty-free shop and explained that BakedAlaska told me I purchased the wrong one. The store manager wanted to meet my advisor, so she followed me back to BakedAlaska who explained what I never would have remembered. “He wants to exchange this for your 12-year-aged rum.”

I succeeded and returned to my friends, and we said goodbye to our bartender. We were the last ones back on the ship. We later learned that the captain announced, “We’re just waiting for the last few to arrive,” as Mrs. BakedAlaska flipped us off for many consecutive minutes.

I bet she didn’t want to search for sharks that night.

I made a video from my trip, which you can view on YouTube or below if your Web browser allows. Enjoy it, mon!

If You Had One Week to Get Your Dream Girl

You are a “nice guy” and never get girls. What do they want and what are they looking for in a guy? The New England Patriots are more likely to lose to Boston College’s football team than you deciphering the key to a woman’s heart.

Now you meet an intelligent, bubbly, funny and beautiful girl in class. You talk and joke a little. Class ends and you vow to woo her at next week’s class. These are the steps you must take over the next seven days to win her over.
Day 1
You’re too old to grow and one week isn’t long enough to increase your body mass or attain a v-shaped torso – the three physical features that have attracted women across time. Instead, buy new clothes and have them tailored to create the perception of those features, unless you are taller than 6’5”, in which case you should walk barefoot.

Day 2
Practice smiling which improves mood and makes others feel comfortable around you. If a man hits on you then you smiled well.

Day 3
Practice displaying confidence, a behavior so attractive it could even make up for skipping Day 1’s step and allow you to continue wearing capri cargo pants. If a man hits on you again then look him in the eye and say, “You have a crumb on your lip. Cheers!” You just pointed out something embarrassing he can correct. You’re his g-damn hero.

Day 4
Practice being outgoing and charismatic, which make people around you feel special. Talk to strangers. Don’t ask generic questions such as, “What’s the weather like?,” and instead speak in statements, which is more revealing and inviting. “My dog and I are going to roll around in the muddy leaves. Now I finally have a reason to wear my capri cargo pants.”

Day 5
Practice assertiveness, which may increase your leadership skills even more than your mate value. When friends ask you where to eat lunch, say, “We’re going to Waffle House,” instead of offering options.

Day 6
Practice progressive and light touching, which has the power to not just arouse but also reduce pain and fight illness. Just never touch service dogs or random children.

Day 7 – Your Next Class
You squeeze your Reebok Pumps four times each, take two quick shots of Fireball and head out the door. You sit beside you dream girl and implement what you learned the past week. She laughs, touches your arm, makes fun of your professor for being boring – classic indications of interest.

You leave class together. “I bet Professor heard me and is going to kill me in my sleep,” she says.

“Even sooner if your homework submission tonight contains passive voice,” you say. “I really like spending time with you. Let’s get coffee next week.”

“Yeah! I could use more friends,” she says.

Friends it is…

* * *
Author Neil Strauss, a “nice guy” turned “Master Pick Up Artist,” wrote in his book The Game that parents and friends failed him and other unsuccessful men by never teaching how to become fully effective social beings. He has it backwards – the lessons have always been out there and it is up to us to grab them.

They say it takes 10,000 hours of repetition before one becomes an expert at anything. We “nice guys” dedicate our lives to playing instruments and athletics, studying and working; reading about how to acquire wealth, be more efficient, and be better people. We can even improve ourselves greatly by spending a week learning how to be attractive but we can’t learn how to woo women in a week because it involves positively affecting another’s mindset. Attracting women is a delicate skill that, as opposed to the piano, for example, which only a small percentage of people play, half the world wants and competes for.

The good news is that life is long unless you drive a Yugo. The goal of our genes may be to reproduce but the goal of our intellect is to improve ourselves a little bit every day. So keep learning and practicing and maybe next semester she will entertain the idea that you have more to offer than friendship.

A Weekend at Colorado Breweries and Mountains

"Let's take a weekend trip to Colorado," my friend Greek said to me on October 3. "There are some breweries I want to see."

"Colorado is my second favorite state. I'm in," I said.

We targeted a weekend in December.

Days later Greek texted me, "It's cold in December. How about we go in two weeks."

"Sure, why not."

Kayak for flight + Priceline for rental car = booked.

We stayed in between Boulder and Denver. We planned specific breweries to visit each of our three days in Colorado and otherwise went wherever our rental minivan took us. Town & Country led us high in elevation in hippie-town Nederland and to McDonald's for three straight breakfasts even though McDonald's now serves breakfast all day. Though, the main purpose of the trip turned out to be logging beers in the app Untappd.

We had great fun and learned a life lesson: we're too old for this shit.

Some photos from our trip are below. I also recorded parts of our trip and published a video, which you can watch on YouTube or directly below if your browser supports it. Cheers!

Avery brewery built a stunning new facility. It's awesome. Avery's Rumpkin beer has 18 percent alcohol by volume. It's not awesome. Feeling on top of the world many thousand feet above sea level in Nederland, Colorado . . . until my thalassemia trait (low hemoglobin) revolted against the limited oxygen.
I rated this Titan IPA from Great Divide Brewery four stars on Untappd. Greek liked this rating. I later gave the Yetti beer two stars, which Greek gave a double negative toast. Greek was so excited to see Dale, founder of Oskar Blues Brewery, that he was researching Dale's life and looking at pictures of Dale 12 hours later. Did you know Dale provides his employees with free massages (not personally) every week? Yeah I didn't care, either. Greek weighed his suitcase before leaving so he knew exactly how much weight in beers he could take back home. He over-purchased, including this pack of six beers at Oskar Blues for nearly $80, and had to leave some for the maids at the hotel. It would take me a while to get used to seeing this.