GRENHE PHOTOGRAPHY - Sample Photos

GRENHEPHOTOGRAPHY

CHRISTINE SPANG

                             

                                ELYSSA ACKERMAN & RUDY BAMENGA

                                EMILY RELLIS

                               
                                 RACHEL JEROME

                                 RUDY BAMENGA

                                SAM ROLLER

                                 TYRUS HOLDEN

SHIRLEY CRUZ

                                            SHERINE BISHTAWI

                                            
                                            
                                           DESHAWN

   

                                          ELYSSA ACKERMAN

                                 SHERINE BISHTAWI

                                           SAM ROLLER

DESHAWN WHITE

No One Tells You Where the Poke-Flute is: A Tale of Teacher Certification Told via Pokemon Allegory

by: Natalie Carabello

Part of the fun of waking up every morning as a child during the 90s was running to the television after breakfast and catching the credits roll from Dragonball Z--a signal that (at last!) Pokemon was coming on--and that I'd be able to catch a few minutes before racing off to the bus dressed to the gills in sweaters and scarves. But I digress.

We all know the shenanigans Ash and his pocket monster friends encounter on his quest to be a Pokemon Master. And as a 24 year-old currently spending Thursday morning of her much-needed and far-too-short vacation in a clinical-looking office in Brooklyn waiting to be processed by the DOE (Department of Education), I cannot help but see the similarities Ash and I share in our journeys.

...except no one gives me shiny-colored badges when I get one step closer to becoming a Pokemon Master New York State Certified Teacher, and I don't have a slew of Nurse Joys or Chanseys at every corner to patch me up when I make a massive mistake.

Becoming certified in any form of educative profession in NY is very much like trying to hunt down that poke-flute to wake up Snorlax so you can pass Route 12 to Fuschia City. The only resounding difference I've found is that there is no Mr. Fuji to gift one to you--the DOE will hide the flute in a cave full of other flutes and you'll have to play at least five of them before they show you a trap door leading to the real flute, tucked safely behind a case that you can only get to after jumping through several flaming hoops on a skateboard at twenty miles an hour.

At least that's how I imagine it in my head.

The reality is that those false flutes I'm talking about are numerous certification exams and fieldwork hours and online courses and several trips to Court Street and all sorts of other things I'm forgetting about because there are just TOO MANY THINGS.

Here's a picture of things.
Notice how there are TOO MANY OF THEM.

I understand why it's done, of course; if you want to be an educator, you have to prove you've got what it takes to be in that classroom. Especially in a place like NYC, where like their adult predecessors, students have the most finely-tuned bullshit meters in the business. Not only will they notice if your act isn't together, they will say so--to your actual face.

That being said, there should be some kind of universal checklist somewhere. A Professor Oak hidden beneath the chaos to help people pick out their starter Pokemon, if you will (Pikachu: all day, everyday--because version yellow. In case you're wondering.)


My master's program did an excellent job of this: they tied mandatory seminars into courses and gave semester-long workshops on conquering the Gyarados that is the EdTPA.

Do not be distracted by the fact that it's shiny.
The EdTPA is still the worst.

And even then--it still felt like I was wondering through Mt. Moon in the dark, plagued by an endless sea of Zubats who get in my path every five minutes.

So here's a comprehensive list of all the stuff you'll need everything I can remember off the top of my head you'll need to take care of if you're on track to teach because (once more for emphasis) there are literally TOO MANY THINGS. I've placed a handy-dandy star next to anything that costs money outside of tuition, and the amount it costs (roughly) in parenthesis at the end.

Before You Student Teach:
-All your educational credits done (this was 40 for me, pretty much standard in Masters Programs): i.e., pedagogy, your content area, adolescent development, electives, differentiation, special education and diverse needs, and so on and on and on and on.

-*Fingerprints: Go early; this shit takes forever and is guaranteed to induce headaches. My day literally ended in tears. ($150. For the love of God, bring back up money just in case.)

-*Register for the ALST Take all your exams and get them over with: I took all three in one week. It was horrible, but very much like ripping a band-aid off. If that's not your gig, then space them out over the course of a month. Please don't wait until you're already student teaching because it will be extremely overwhelming for you. ($300+ for the ALST, CST, and EAS, and possibly more if you need to re-take them, so study...or something.)

During Student Teaching:
-1 semester of Student Teaching: That's 15--count 'em--15 weeks, or 300 hours. Pick your numerical poison. My professor told me to treat this like a 15 week job interview, and that's honestly the best advice I could ever pass on to anyone else trekking the trek to Victory Road (see what I did there?). Involve yourself as much as you can and develop a working relationship with your co-teacher. This time can be incredibly rewarding and eye-opening if you make the effort. I learned more in those four months about teaching than I learned in books and studying in two years.

-*THE EDTPA: also known as the worst thing ever. Break it into chunks and don't put it off the way I did (/am currently still doing). (300 big ones).

I especially love the heading.
As if people just wander into the building
confused and looking for Cheetos.

-*Register for NYSED Teach: This will set you up for your initial certification. Once the state has everything you need to qualify and approves you--Thundercats are go! You now have five years to complete three years of professional teaching for that badass Professional Certification. ($50, and no, you can't use AMEX. I learned this the hard way.)

If you are going through simultaneous substitute certification, read everything carefully: it took me weeks to figure out your I-9 must be completed in person and you cannot begin to work until you are invited to be assessed (aka, more flutes and flaming hoops) which cannot happen until you verify your I-9. Do you see the circle I'm painting here for you?

The good thing is, after all this is said and done, you can be safely on your way to working with Pokemon shaping the young minds of tomorrow. That part, I can honestly say is incredibly gratifying, humbling, and inspiring (and sometimes frustrating) all at once--but so, so worth it.

Good luck, friend--and always remember to carry your Pokedex in case you encounter something unknown.

Peace, love, and sometimes tons of paperwork.
-N

"What I Talk About When I Talk About Networking" By Greg Hernandez

The photo above is of me. In case you didn't know that. Yeah, it's a tad bit redundant to my friends, but some of you reading this right now have never met me. For those digital strangers, welcome!
This is me, Greg Hernandez. I am my own brand. It feels funny typing this just now..."I. Am. My. Own. Brand." Well, now that I cogitate on that a little longer, it doesn't feel all that strange to me, actually it feels quite normal.

That's my head shot. I love acting. I've been doing it since high school. I grew serious about in college. Since graduating, I've acted in two films and a web-series (My own).

 I like this picture. It represents me well. In this photo I'm clean cut, happy and smiling. "I'm marketable." That is the goal behind this picture. Cast me in your play or hire me for this job, please! Yes, that is what this picture is screaming. It's all about me. That is the approach we, as in you, and I take when it comes to networking.

Help ME with MY project, so that I can make MY DREAMS COME TRUE! A little dramatic? Yes, I do find it to be as well, but suffice to say it's accurate. This is what networking is. Utilizing the world wide web that is at our disposal to access the limitless possibilities, choices and people who can assist you in your endeavors.

I won't bore you with all of those details, instead I will dive in to exactly why I am writing this post right here, right now, in this very moment at my home, from my Macbook Pro. Too much information, nah, it really isn't.

In January of 2014 I started a blog. I started it because I thought it would be fun, naturally. I was in the process of finishing applications for graduate schools. The waiting process would begin in mid February. So, in late January I began blogging to keep myself busy and maintain my sanity. It worked. A year later, I am not in graduate school, having been rejected and waitlisted, I am now writing on this very blog and I must admit it's still a lot of fun and therapeutic too.

I write whenever I wish, there is no pressure, I am my own boss. This is my domain. Plus, I have many of my friends from college who contribute on my blog. At first, the blog consisted of myself and two friends. Today, 13 months later there are 12 contributors (All friends) who are affiliated with my brand.

Affiliated with my brand? How weird. My blog is called "Bingfuse." Since it's inception in January of 2014, there have been 108 posts, this is #109 and nearly 7,000 page views. Wow! The purpose behind my blog is to showcase the various talents that Binghamton University graduates have to offer. Yeah Bearcat pride!

In the past year, I can look back at a journey of how my blog came to gradually increase in the amount of followers, likes, contributors. The quality of my writing and of my friend's has certainly gotten better over time. I can attest that practice does make perfect, but I'm talking about networking here. Over time, I started to grasp the idea of what it truly is all about.

My friends and fellow alumni either joined my blog by my invitation or of their own gumption. The process of asking people to join involved meeting them in person, calling them up or sending them a text, an e-mail or Facebook message boils down to something very simple. I'm asking them to join me, join my team, be apart of my brand!

I felt like a salesman. Honestly, selling the idea of what I am doing in my spare time to my friends who graduated with me, before me and after me. I basically asked them to utilize their spare time for blogging or posting on the Facebook page for "Bingfuse."

Like everything in life, practice makes perfect, or at least makes you better. I had some friends decline or never contribute, others began to contribute right away and then faded away, while others have yet to contribute but make their presence known in other ways, by showing support, i.e. liking and sharing posts on social media.

Is networking an art form? I do believe it is. As I fine tuned my approach, communicating with people became easier. The way in which I asked people to join me in a project, any project really, was more fundamentally sound. It was a byproduct of experience and my increased lexicon. After a while my network increased dramatically.

Credit for this is due to my going to college. It has afforded me with the wondrous opportunity of acclimating myself with an abundance of talented individuals who possess many skills for various projects.

I graduated from Binghamton University in the spring of 2013, with a Bachelors in English; concentration in Creative Writing. Short stories, poetry, screenplays, blog posts, letters etc. they all require networking. The famous quote, "Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," has never resonated with me more than in 2015. Networking is essentially using someone for your own nefarious means. I need something done, Hey! Internet! Phone! Circle of friends! My immediate family! Find me someone who can accomplish this important task.

That's basically it, however thanks to many film productions and creative writing brainstorming sessions, I have learned that networking is far more than that. It's about modest collaborating. Learning how to engage people in effective conversations is key.

This is in regards to speaking with friends, new acquaintances and strangers. I believe that it's crucial that to refrain from blurting out your wants to someone, because then you will be perceived as a novice. Someone who is giving off that vibe of using and not caring about others at all. Networking is meant to be a tool for effective communication which can be geared toward the completion of an important recruitment process of chief personnel for a project.

 People are people.  In my case, I prefer it when someone asks me how my day is going, how long has it been since we've spoken? Yes, I want to be asked those supposedly arbitrary questions. C'mon. Butter me up, schmooze me a little. Pretty much give me the fore-play first before you start badgering away at what you need from me. Do that first and then you can have my services.

For me, doing this initial step showcases your leadership skills. Taking the time to create initial small talk before you get to the reason behind a discussion shows patience.

The traits of a good boss are:
1) Being a good listener.
2) A problem solver.
3) Empathy for those who work for you/being down to earth.
4) Treating others like people, treat them with respect.

It's the basis of fundamental networking. (You better come correct if you want me involved in your dealings).

{Recently I have experienced two bizarre conversations in which I did not bother replying to. 
The funny thing was, my decision to not respond to either of these people via (Facebook or text) because of the perceived notion that I felt disrespected, was validated. I have not received a follow up message from either of these two people}

Sending a text, Facebook message or an e-mail with "Hey, I'll be in the city in a couple of weeks, let's set up a photo shoot date," will not go over well with someone like me. If you're not close to me, have only met me twice and don't speak to me, don't expect me to assist you with your projects.
Being my Facebook friend doesn't make us friends in real life.

In the digital age, support can sometimes be personified by liking someones posts. Online likes still do not excuse you from being negligent toward my existence as a fellow human being. It's important to ask the right way.

"Can you send me those production stills of me?" 

To provide context to the above question. This was in regards to a  recent short film that I wrote, produced and co-directed. A talented contortionist whom I met at a dance venue accepted my request to be apart of my film. She was on set for one day for about 2 hours.

Two days after the shoot, she asks me out of the blue via text. The above question. I did not respond.
Why? Where is the how did the rest of the shoot go? Nothing, it's all about her. I had that bad vibe about her, but let it go because of her abilities. Networking = using. After a week, I relented and responded. I told her that the photos were already on Facebook.

I guess all I wanted was a simple, "Hey Greg, how was the shoot?" I had a lot of fun! Send me some stills of me when you can. Thanks!" 

It cannot be all about you. Take. Take. Take. Ask. Ask. Ask. Doesn't jive.
I cut people like this loose.

I can say all of this, because I humanize every situation. I ask people how they are doing. I tell them how good of a job they did on a project that we collaborated on. I keep in touch.

Why do I do this? It's simple, for me, networking is about creating trust for future collaborations. I build the trust to bolster dynamic relationships that will help me in my future. Close friends of mine have accepted my request to do me a favor (Edit a film or video blog for me, read a new draft of a screenplay or short story, listen to my rambling thoughts over the phone about a new project) because I've proven that I'm trustworthy. You can call me your friend.

I treat people like people.

That is networking to me. Not using or abusing. It's about learning from one another. Being on the same page.

It's rare to meet someone who will treat your passion project as if it were theirs.

I guess I'm a rarity.

“The Divide: NYPD & The Communities They Patrol."

Let's stop pointing fingers and solve this issue. Racism may never die, but empathy will never spread unless we all do something about it.

• We're more than 3 weeks into the new year now, yet we cannot put the tumultuous times of 2014 behind us because the same tension, anger, mourning and loss still resides in the air.

• The Divide between police officers and the mayor is evident, but the gap between the police and the communities in which they patrol are wider than ever.

• Something is missing. Let’s start with empathy. Do cops truly empathize with the deaths of "Michael Brown" and "Eric Garner?" Do people in the communities truly empathize with the heinous murders of the two police officers, "Rafael Ramos" and "Wenjian Lu"? 

• If the answer is "No" to both questions, then we have some serious work to do in this country.

• This post is not meant to poke fingers at any side, in fact this post aims to eliminate the word "side," completely. We’re on the same side here. We’re all human beings. 

• I read about the story of a black man in RIverdale. How he felt unwelcome in his community.

nyc-crime/riverdale-man-moving-racially-charged-vandalism-article-1.1746539

"Larry, 24, said he’s half-Portuguese and half-Arabic and felt “harassed” by constant questions and stares. “Part of it is because it’s a quiet neighborhood. But if you don’t look the part, they will question you.”

"His younger brother Lawrence Rowe, who with him Friday morning, said he also felt uneasy visiting Hart.

“I walked in the building, and the doorman looked right at me and said, ‘You’re in the wrong building. What are you doing here?’ ” recalled Rowe, 40, who said he had recently returned from serving in the Army in Germany."

• Now, let me transition from that to this brief anecdote. I met a police officer at a deli near my house earlier this year. He graduated from my rival high school two years ahead of me. I was on my way to a rehearsal for a film. I was wearing my camera bag. He noticed and started a conversation with me. He seemed like a decent guy and probably is, however the ugliness in his speech emerged when we spoke about the community we were in. He told me to be careful. Citing, the culture and people, as troublesome. Yes, "these people…yes these people…" the disdain for the people in this community was evident. His words cemented his actions, yes he painted them all over with the same brush. 

• We must give everyone a chance. That is the essence of common humanity. We should not judge. The man who executed the two cops boasted about it on Instagram. He knew what he was going to do. We cannot base his actions on all black people. 

• Police officers and the people of the community need to come together and speak to each other.  They need to hug it out and sing kumbaya or something…this has gone on long enough. How can police officers work in areas they loathe? How can police officers work a job in which they constantly fear for their lives? Why do police officers victimize the poor? Is it really to generate revenue? Are they being forced to do this? If so, why not quit? Why not revolt against the system instead of one man, the Mayor De Blasio, whose rhetoric had no bearing on the assassination of the two police officers in Brooklyn. http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/cops-shot-brooklyn-sources-article-1.2051941

• Check out this take on the police officers by the satirist, "Bill Maher, on HBO's Real Time With Bill Maher," 

Bill Maher on NYPD

• We cannot baby police officers. They must provide solutions. GO out there and meet people. Talk to people, befriend the community, don’t make them your enemy.

• This is America. Our military has treated the citizens of foreign countries with more respect than us. We’re American citizens. Sure there are some bad apples, but very few.

• The crime rate has historically decreased in this country, yet the police continue to militarize. Why? americans-police-continue-to-militarize-despite-record-low-crime-rates/192029/

• Stop utilizing harmful rhetoric to alienate and demonize communities.

• People in the community need to condition and educate themselves on approaching police officers. Hold seminars. People should not fear the police.

• The police need to change their perception. People must educate their children on how to behave and treat those who risk their lives for them.

• The animosity must dissipate. 

"The fact that, we're all going to die someday, should be enough to make us love each other."

-Charles Bukowski

Below is a summary of how I felt in late December of 2014.

We're On The Same Side

My skin color makes me fear for my life...

I don't know why there are multiple sides...

Only pointing fingers here, pushing a distorted view...

I see all of the uniforms turning a blind eye...

The city renowned for apple pie is devoid of empathy.

I want you to stop choosing one side...
We're all alive and shouldn't die...
I want you to make peace, 
Forget the speech, please be innovative.
Why is it in movies we can get along?
Put the guns away and talk
Please listen before you shout

I want everyone to understand...
Black, White, Blue is all the same...
Both sides are wrong and need to make up...
Picking a side is too far gone

I understand your pain...
Yes, you, you, you and you and yes even you...


I can say this because I'm alive...
My parents fear for my life...
They lecture me, on how to act and speak 
Should I be confronted with big bad blue...
I know that "bad" is suggestive...
But that is the reality... we're all bad until we do good.

Semi-civilized human beings talking out their problems in a football stadium...

When we will reach enlightenment?

I so badly want to not worry...

Break the law, die, fight for your life, die, struggle, die, retaliate die, two wrongs, die, turn your back, die, silence, die, anger, die, animosity, die...

Until we all come together we're doomed...

Not in the apocalypse sense... of course... I mean in a truer sense...



Inside we're rotting away... Forget the whole "Walk a mile in my shoes."

I don't need you to go through that hassle...

Just understand one thing...

I'm a person and you are too...

I don't want to die...I desire peace of mind.

Shake my hand...look me in the eye...touch my skin...feel my life.

"Last Drags" Short Story By Greg Hernandez

 “Last Drags”

            Small circular puffs of smoke emerged from her mouth at a steady pace. She took the pipe again and inhaled deeply. A circle of friends all laughing and drinking around her made this woman the centerpiece of attraction. She closed her eyes as she exhaled through her nostrils. Pleasure covered her face like an exfoliating mask. The bartender placed a new coal for their hookah. The hookah pipe went around the circle of five, with beer, gossip, politics, intertwining the go around.

Their group was extremely sophisticated. All of them had their legs crossed and spoke softly. It made their conversations appear to be important. They stood out amongst the crowd of gluttonous spectators, fools, wannabes, jerk-offs, cunts, cock-teasers and low-lives. Now, this was a loud place. Things could get hectic in a hurry. Fights would start with the quickness of a match being lit. But not tonight, no tonight this beauty was in an impenetrable bubble. It protected her from the dirty and violent atmosphere that was the bar, called “Last Drags.” She was drinking “Delirium Tremens”, my Belgian Pale Ale. She wiped some of the bubble off her blue lips. She looked like a nympho. Those were the types; short jet black hair, fur coats to keep them warm, the tight dress to show off their physiques and the legs, my god those revealing legs! I bet her heels added 5 inches to her height. She looks like a bona fide freak, fucking dynamite under the sheets, I imagine.

            Carter sat the bar staring at it all. The air was intoxicating. A band at the far end was playing some psychedelic rock. The bartenders never had to pretend to look busy at this bar. They were always hurrying about, fixing drinks and hookahs. Sober people were exiting the bar and drunks were re-entering it. The bathroom lines extended out to the exit. People cheered and jeered and leered at the band’s style. Some guy called them “The Doors, 2.0.” Another guy called em “hacks.” Carter was at the center of it all, eye fucking this lady from a far.

            Carter tapped the bar with two fingers for another drink. “Blue Moon of course… a draft with the orange; fuck the bottle. Bottles, never do the drink justice can’t stand the fucks drinking mixed drinks or Bud Weiser. It’s a sin goddammit, a fucking sin. Besides, most of them lounge around yelling and belching about their shitty weeks, break ups, firings and fore closures. It’s the city that never sleeps because everyone is always bitching and moaning. I sip my Blue Moon and remain steady. I always drink it when I’m out on the hunt. I always drink Delirium after I strike out. I don’t plan on drinking it tonight though. No fucking way.

            Marty was yammering on about how he struck out with this Christian bitch last night. You don’t need to look at Marty to know it’s him talking. He’s always loud drunk and dramatic. Like a fucking actress in a musical. He bellows away three seats down about how he took some Christian bitch to a performance, dinner and a dancing.

“I WAS A PERFECT FUCKING GENTLEMAN TOO. I DIDN’T TOUCH HER NONE EITHER JUST HAD MY EYES GLUED TO THEM PERKY TITTIES OF HERS AND THAT MONSOON OF AN ASS MAH GAWD! “

“MARTY SHUT THE FUCK UP! “ Everyone always responded.

Carter sat and thought about Marty, half laughing and half exasperated, sitting sipping his Blue Moon watching it all. “My, oh my, there are a ton of weirdoes here tonight,” the bartender says. Carter lit his cigarette and nodded his head in agreement, eyes still fixed on the nympho.

“Listen I get off work at three, come by and do me after.” She says.

“Nah not tonight Ange,” Carter says.

 She fixes a drink and gives him a frown.

“Say, you know anything about the porno star over there? She’s giving me a goddamn boner. Strange I wanna make love to her y’know. Tell me she’ not exotic looking hah!”

“I never seen her before,” Ange says, looking down and pouring drinks.

“Well, then I guess she must be new in town then, interesting.

“No, just cuz it’s the first time seeing her doesn’t mean she’s new, for all you know, she’s been here a few times, just not when you’re here.”

“It’s fate!”

“No, more like coincidence.

“Fucking destiny, I’m telling you!”

 “She looks bald under that wig.”

“WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU CUNT!”

Ange gave him a measuring look and took care of orders down on the opposite end of the bar, fingers, fists, crisp dollar bills, bracelets to show proof of age, all thumping and rolling around the bar. Everybody is in on the action tonight. People want to have a good time drinks and hookah equals a hook up Ange wants me, Marty wants the Christian bitch and I want the hot little nympho.

Carter eyes cast a light on the beautiful nympho. Her blue lips match the blue veins on his penis both are thick. He observes her, the way she speaks how she throws her head back and laughs at a comment. Her large smile accentuates her beauty. She is genuine. Her female friend gets up to join the bathroom line. The seat next to her is empty now. It’s time.

Carter finishes his drink, belches wipes his mouth, takes a final drag of his cigarette and put it out. He stares at his prey. She looks young. Maybe she just finished up at the university. It’s the end of spring. I bet money she’s a philosophy major. Bet she’d have a lot to say after sex. Her tight skirt barely contains those muscular thighs. He begins to walk toward her when Marty claps his hand on his shoulder and yells, “TYLER STOP STARING AT THAT GIRL’S SNATCH! YOU FUCKING PERVERT!”

“ Marty get off me ya filthy bastard. It’s not my fault she likes to show off her fat cat.”

“HAHA FAT CAT! THAT’S MY FAVORITE BAR! OH CARTER! I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU!”

“Marty you’re disrupting my concentration.”

“I STRUCK OUT LAST NIGHT!
 “Yeah I heard Marty. We all heard… You’re louder than the band. I’m surprised that you haven’t been thrown out yet. People are giving you the death stare. Lay off of me before you get me thrown out with ya.”

“I’M SORRY! I  NEED TO GET MY DICK WET!!! ARE YAH GONNA BANG ANGE TONIGHT?”

“Nah you can have her…”
“YES! THANK YOU CASANOVA!”

Marty stumbled toward the end of the bar squeezing his way past the multitudes of people who despised him. Ange saw him coming the whole time. She was a masterful multitasker. Carter knew she had been watching their conversation. Her knowing eyes already full of fury at his departure and Marty’s approach. Marty nudged a man out of his way and speared his head over the side of the bar like dolphin shooting up out of the water. “HI ANGELA BABY! WHAT TIME YA GETTING OFF?”

Carter made his way toward Blue Lips. The band finished their song. People clapped. Girls and guys whistled and snapped their fingers. Carter complimented her outfit. She smiled. It was fate. She liked him. “About time you came over.” He laughed at her joke. He was destined to get lucky tonight. At the far end of the bar the sound of thunder erupted as Marty hit the floor holding his face. Ange yelled down to him, “ASSHOLE! DON’T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!” Uproar and applause shot through the bar when Marty was thrown out by two bouncers.

Marty lay on the side walk for a few minutes not knowing how he ended up outside. His eyes fluttered as he caught a glimpse of the bar, “Last Drags.” It was 3 am. Time for everyone to head home now, the weekend was over. Marty saw the people stumble out of the bars all loud laughing, yelling, parading, falling, fighting, arguing, kissing, grabbing, fondling, running for a cab, running for the last bus back to campus, running for a train, running, just running.

Marty finally saw Carter and blue lips amble out of the bar. They sauntered down the street holding hands. Marty yelled to his friend one last time. “CARTER WHAT’S HER NAME?” Carter and blue lips stopped. He turned his head toward her and whispered in her ear. She shook her head at him and smiled. He smiled back and kissed her lightly on those blue lips. “MONA” he yelled back and they continued on. Marty held his thumb up high and shouted, “GOOD JOB, GOOD JOB SIR!!”