Today is Halloween, yay. In what will be a few posts about my evolving relationship with autumn, today I will explain that of me and Halloween:
When I was a kid, Halloween never became for me what Seinfeld once referred to as "every child's dream to get candy." Don't get me wrong; I loved candy and I had dreams...but growing up in Germany on American bases, I didn't feel this universal/cultural push to dress up over the whole thing.
I mean, I did dress up and I was glad that in the end I got a big pumpkin head full of the stuff for doing it, but I really didn't get excited about it like I did for Christmas or, say, Veterans Day.
Living back in the States where Halloween hit the grocery shelves in August, I tried to wonder what I was going to "be," but could never, for the life of me, come up with what I considered a good costume. I didn't really think any superheroes--from the more-traditional Superman to the then-popular TMNT (Heroes in a Halfshell)--were that worthy, nor the likes of princesses or witches (which, in my opinion, were the same thing anyway.) And I was sick of being an "army man," and so was my dad.
Thankfully I had motivated friends and was able to annex myself to their themes--cowgirls and such.
High-school cross country provided a relief for what had then become an actual Halloween aversion/phobia, no irony intended. We'd usually have an important race the following day and that gave me an excuse to stay at home, eat pasta, and watch Absolutely Fabulous reruns on Comedy Central. Either that or I could usually make some "clever" play on my uniform: Zombie Cross-Country Runner, Fat Cross-Country Runner, etc.
My senior year, however, I felt I owed it to the class of 1999 to put some effort into my presence at our Annual Spooky Ball and decided on a bumble bee because I could try to be cute while also looking like I gave a crap. What happened, though, is that my then-boyfriend and I broke up a week before and I just ended up looking like the girl from the Blind Melon music video while Andrew danced with his new love, Schuyler Reese.
She was a synchronized swimmer.
I warmed up to Halloween in college, which can initially be credited to the addition of beer. I also had matured artistically, and came up with some good ideas, one of which actually won me a $50 beer tab, completing the metaphysical cycle which had brought me to such creative heights in the first place. What was this inventive idea, you might -or might not- ask? A tree.
I came in second only to a swarm of Hooters Girls.
Since then I've had some peaks and valleys in my All-Hallows landscape; Margot Tenenbaum and Brownie #3 of Girl Scout Troop 826, to name a few. Last year I was off the Halloween hook since I was runnnnnning a marathon the next day. But all in all, I've come to embrace this silly day as an opportunity rather than avoid it as a big pain in the ass.
This year's plans, you might -or might not- ask? Well, it was a toss up between joining my roommates as Snakes on a Plane or my girlfriend as St. Pauli girl (her) and Sam Adams (me). Given my evolved appreciation for Halloween (as well as its intoxicant-inspired origins), I went with the beer-themed choice...which proved seredipitously successful when I came across a gallon-sized pewter beer mug while shopping for the rest of my costume at the thrift store. Granted, without this prominent prop I kinda look like Beethoven, but still...
It is on this note that I leave all (three) of you readers with Happy Halloween wishes and the following now-cliche, yet always-brilliant, quintessential American Halloween passage:
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door.
Only this, and nothing more."
Or is it?
24.10.06
17.10.06
weekend edition: Li Wu
Yes, it's Tuesday and, yes, the weekend's update is now two days old, but still. I'm going to go ahead and tell you about it...or at least the cool part.
For a few months I've been chatting occasionally with Li, the evening janitor at KQED. She's a 55-year-old Chinese immigrant from Guangdong Province who speaks very little English but who is always so friendly when she comes around that, despite the language barrier challenge, at a certain point I couldn't help but get to know her. (I should state here for the 'record' that I'm not usually someone who shies away from getting to know someone -and I've never once seen her as any different than my other co-workers just because she's a janitor- but the nature of her job is "in-and-out," and that's made it difficult to have any lengthy exchange.)
I wanted to know what her home is like, how frequently she gets to go back, how she is finding the U.S., whether or not she has a lot of family here, and, most importantly, if maybe one day I could have the privilege of joining her on her weekend trip to San Francisco's Chinatown so I could finally know what all that weird dried stuff in those bins is and how the heck you use them for cooking.
So we made a plan: October 14th. Every week since early September we'd remind one another that we had a 'date' for Saturday, October 14th. Plans began finalizing with the exchange of phone numbers (and when I broke her phone trying to enter my number and then had to try to explain that I didn't actually 'break' it; that you just have to take out the battery); the rudimentary map to my house that I drew since she offered me a ride; the Sharpy-ing of our big day into my day planner.
The date approached quicky and in the meantime I had rounded up some peeps to join me. After about ten phone calls that morning, Li found her way to our place and we got in her car and right as I was about to introduce everyone, I laughed out loud at the linguistic ridiculousness that was about to transpire:
"Li, this is Leah. Leah, this is Li."
"Li, this is Leigh. Leigh, this is Li."
"Li, this is Jeffrey. Jeffrey, this is Li."
Li: "O-K....Lee-ah. ...Lee. (points to herself)...Lee. ...Em-ah-lee. ...Jeff-lee."
Once we all were able to stop laughing at the irony of Jefflee, we made our way through the city to Chinatown.
She was an awesome guide and took into some stores I probably wouldn't have even known to visit. She told us all about the dried sea cucumbers and black fungus...and why we should eat them. And how.
She told me not to buy that wok because, at $12.99, it was way overpriced.
She took us to an amazing restaurant and ordered us our own personal buffet of Dim Sum.
She expanded our horizons.
I've been to Chinatown many times, but it wasn't until this time that I had actually been to Chinatown. Thank you, Li.
For a few months I've been chatting occasionally with Li, the evening janitor at KQED. She's a 55-year-old Chinese immigrant from Guangdong Province who speaks very little English but who is always so friendly when she comes around that, despite the language barrier challenge, at a certain point I couldn't help but get to know her. (I should state here for the 'record' that I'm not usually someone who shies away from getting to know someone -and I've never once seen her as any different than my other co-workers just because she's a janitor- but the nature of her job is "in-and-out," and that's made it difficult to have any lengthy exchange.)
I wanted to know what her home is like, how frequently she gets to go back, how she is finding the U.S., whether or not she has a lot of family here, and, most importantly, if maybe one day I could have the privilege of joining her on her weekend trip to San Francisco's Chinatown so I could finally know what all that weird dried stuff in those bins is and how the heck you use them for cooking.
So we made a plan: October 14th. Every week since early September we'd remind one another that we had a 'date' for Saturday, October 14th. Plans began finalizing with the exchange of phone numbers (and when I broke her phone trying to enter my number and then had to try to explain that I didn't actually 'break' it; that you just have to take out the battery); the rudimentary map to my house that I drew since she offered me a ride; the Sharpy-ing of our big day into my day planner.
The date approached quicky and in the meantime I had rounded up some peeps to join me. After about ten phone calls that morning, Li found her way to our place and we got in her car and right as I was about to introduce everyone, I laughed out loud at the linguistic ridiculousness that was about to transpire:
"Li, this is Leah. Leah, this is Li."
"Li, this is Leigh. Leigh, this is Li."
"Li, this is Jeffrey. Jeffrey, this is Li."
Li: "O-K.
Once we all were able to stop laughing at the irony of Jefflee, we made our way through the city to Chinatown.
She was an awesome guide and took into some stores I probably wouldn't have even known to visit. She told us all about the dried sea cucumbers and black fungus...and why we should eat them. And how.
She told me not to buy that wok because, at $12.99, it was way overpriced.
She took us to an amazing restaurant and ordered us our own personal buffet of Dim Sum.
She expanded our horizons.
I've been to Chinatown many times, but it wasn't until this time that I had actually been to Chinatown. Thank you, Li.
7.9.06
bob thompson
I don't know why I randomly remembered Bob Thompson right here or right now, but I did. As one of my top-3 favorite professors (I can't leave out Steve Davis or Peggy Thompson), I felt lucky to have had the chance to talk, study and learn from him. So I Googled him today and found this great article from Salon, written a few years ago.
6.9.06
keith urban plucks at urban heartstrings
OK so this time last week I mentioned my infatuation with the latest hip-pop, but by the end of the week (thanks to iTunes radio) I had worked my way over to what might be the opposite genre: Country.
(Now I'm by no means a music critic or pop-culture analyst so if you're one of those people who are--or who at least steep yourself in the literary waters of Rolling Stone and the like--then you may find this posting either A) obvious, B) cliche, or 3) both.)
I've always been a tepid off-again/on-again fan of Country music, even though bluegrass grazes the pasture of my CD collection (huge AKUS fan over here) and Ropin' the Wind was one of the first CDs I ever owned. Sure, I'd get passively sprinkled with the other stars thanks to my high school friends, or I'd occasionally turn the radio dial on a leg of a cross-country drive thanks to the boredom that is Nebraska. But other than that...I can't say I've ever been a Country music 'fan.'
Well, until the past few weeks.
Who knew how clever this stuff was??
For example Jo Dee Messina's "Heads Carolina, Tails California" suggests:
I've got people in Boston/Ain't your daddy still in Des Moines
We can pack up tomorrow/Tonight let's flip a coin
Heads: Carolina, Tails: California
Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer
Up in the mountains, down by the ocean
Where it don't matter; as long as we're going
Somewhere together/I've got a quarter...
Heads: Carolina, Tails: California.
Or Tim McGraw's "Something Like That" laments:
I had a barbeque stain on my white T-shirt/
She was killing me in that mini skirt/
Skipping rocks on the river by the railroad tracks.
She had a suntan line and red lipstick/
I worked so hard for that first kiss/
A heart don't forget something like that.
Yes, it's simple...but somehow literarily-brilliant. These stories are touching and I would argue that they can resound within even the coldest cynic's heart.
Ambition of moving forward in life.
Freedom of the road.
A special, yet sheepishly-embarassing, interaction with your first heartthrob.
This is the stuff of most American comings-of-age, and technically applies to thugs, nerds, rednecks, preps, and all 'races' alike, regardless of whether they were actually skipping rocks on the river by the railroad tracks.
Now enter Keith Urban. His song, "Better Life," is a simple call for providing the best for you and your main squeeze, and can easily win over hearts single and married alike, indie hipster or gangsta apart. This song is especially applicable to myself and what I would consider my urban peers. The video, obviously set in a city, shows the sweet, albeit watered-down story of young love:
(Now I'm by no means a music critic or pop-culture analyst so if you're one of those people who are--or who at least steep yourself in the literary waters of Rolling Stone and the like--then you may find this posting either A) obvious, B) cliche, or 3) both.)
I've always been a tepid off-again/on-again fan of Country music, even though bluegrass grazes the pasture of my CD collection (huge AKUS fan over here) and Ropin' the Wind was one of the first CDs I ever owned. Sure, I'd get passively sprinkled with the other stars thanks to my high school friends, or I'd occasionally turn the radio dial on a leg of a cross-country drive thanks to the boredom that is Nebraska. But other than that...I can't say I've ever been a Country music 'fan.'
Well, until the past few weeks.
Who knew how clever this stuff was??
For example Jo Dee Messina's "Heads Carolina, Tails California" suggests:
I've got people in Boston/Ain't your daddy still in Des Moines
We can pack up tomorrow/Tonight let's flip a coin
Heads: Carolina, Tails: California
Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer
Up in the mountains, down by the ocean
Where it don't matter; as long as we're going
Somewhere together/I've got a quarter...
Heads: Carolina, Tails: California.
Or Tim McGraw's "Something Like That" laments:
I had a barbeque stain on my white T-shirt/
She was killing me in that mini skirt/
Skipping rocks on the river by the railroad tracks.
She had a suntan line and red lipstick/
I worked so hard for that first kiss/
A heart don't forget something like that.
Yes, it's simple...but somehow literarily-brilliant. These stories are touching and I would argue that they can resound within even the coldest cynic's heart.
Ambition of moving forward in life.
Freedom of the road.
A special, yet sheepishly-embarassing, interaction with your first heartthrob.
This is the stuff of most American comings-of-age, and technically applies to thugs, nerds, rednecks, preps, and all 'races' alike, regardless of whether they were actually skipping rocks on the river by the railroad tracks.
Now enter Keith Urban. His song, "Better Life," is a simple call for providing the best for you and your main squeeze, and can easily win over hearts single and married alike, indie hipster or gangsta apart. This song is especially applicable to myself and what I would consider my urban peers. The video, obviously set in a city, shows the sweet, albeit watered-down story of young love:
31.8.06
WTF thursday
Welcome to what probably will be just another short-lived/failed attempt at a weekly posting..."WTF thursday." As you may have noticed, the only regular posting I make is "misc. wednesday," and even that has become "sort of" irregular.
So I'm going to try, every Thursday, to come up with some things that I think warrant my generation's version of "gee williker!"
Here goes...but don't hold your breath.
OK, hold your breath.
Well, actually I don't care what you do.
-When I was growing up my dad was deployed. A lot. So when I saw THIS in the news today, I finally realized why today, at 25, I'm still coping with the emotional-distance issues between me and him. Seriously, if only I had a flat daddy growing up, I could have had many more of those intimate father-daughter conversations that make most of my peers so close to their dads. I feel gypped.
-I still haven't heard from Jeopardy!
-Who knew that turning your back to fill out some paperwork would result in the death of hundreds of people?
-So long, Gutenberg: Our generation's version of the printing press.
So I'm going to try, every Thursday, to come up with some things that I think warrant my generation's version of "gee williker!"
Here goes...but don't hold your breath.
OK, hold your breath.
Well, actually I don't care what you do.
-When I was growing up my dad was deployed. A lot. So when I saw THIS in the news today, I finally realized why today, at 25, I'm still coping with the emotional-distance issues between me and him. Seriously, if only I had a flat daddy growing up, I could have had many more of those intimate father-daughter conversations that make most of my peers so close to their dads. I feel gypped.
-I still haven't heard from Jeopardy!
-Who knew that turning your back to fill out some paperwork would result in the death of hundreds of people?
-So long, Gutenberg: Our generation's version of the printing press.
30.8.06
misc. wednesday
-All of my U.S.-residing life I have listened (at first, reluctantly and later, enthusiastically) to NPR. Many of you know that at more than one point in my life, I may have been an unhealthily-avid listener. But for some reason, now that I work at one of the country's pivotal NPR stations, I have pretty much zero desire to tune in (or, rather, push this button on my desk telephone that lets us listen). Additionally, the lack of a driving commute and at-home stereo prevents me from listening to two of my favorite shows: Morning Edition and All Things Considered. So while my occupational life is steeped in all-things-public radio (do you know how many times I have to email NPR or PRI or American Public Media on a weekly basis because they can't write clear program information?? They should be ashamed of themselves), I have been missing that feeling of excitement-through-listening for a few months now....and I don't know how I feel about it.
-On a related note, I am absolutely addicted to Hot108Jamz on iTunes Radio. I think I've heard Chamillionaire's "Ridin'" ("they see me rollin'/they hatin'/patrollin' they trynna catch me ridin' dirty) three times already today.
-I am finally facing what was previously only the potential situation of frequently running into my ex-girlfriend. Nicole is from the Bay Area and has been living back here only a few months since after I made the move myself. In my mind there are no "territories," but then again, I am semi-naive about that kind of thing...which doesn't work when there might be potential for the other person to go territorial on you. And having a current girlfriend who I love very much, Leah, but also Nicole now living only a few streets away and being tangentially...tangent...to the social scene I find myself in, well...it's definitely an interesting tightrope to now be walking and a list of priorities to potentially have to soon be making. For now I am trying to just be my normal, naive self and have fun with the people I like. But I sense that the real world will soon descend upon my pollyanna ass.
-Diamonds on my neck, diamonds on my grill.
-I guess I should release a thought that has been weighing on my mind for more than a month now, and which I can hardly contain sometimes during my current workday: I really, really want to work at Google. (I've had a phone interview so far).
Google, if you're out there because you got this blog address from my writing portfolio, please know that I'd be the best damn online editor you've ever brought on board.
-I recently bought my first road bike (which I previously called the ram-handle-bike-thingy). It's a classic (I guess) red Bianchi ten-speed with the shifter tabs on the down tube (that tube that goes from front to back in a diagonally-downward motion). And I LOVE it! I've only had it about a week and already I'm addicted. It opens up so much of San Francisco for exercising...or even just cruisin' around. As a runner, I could only make it so far before my knees decided they were, in fact, 70 years old, and I would have to turn around. But now I can actually go all throughout the Golden Gate Park, down to the ocean, up to the bay, over the GG Bridge and up the Marin Headlands, or even around the East Bay hills. It's great!
-I also joined the Y. I love the Y....there's something about little kids and senior citizens alike accompanying you in your quest for physical fitness that makes it so much better than Gold's Gym. Especially getting out of the pool because one of these groups made a poop.
Just kidding...that doesn't happen at the Embarcadero Y.
-'Member last year how you helped me to raise all that money and I ran that marathon? Well my good friend Christine is doing the same thing this year...and if you have a spare ten or twomp, send it her way via (that's Spanish [and Latin] for "way"):
http://www.active.com/donate/tntnca04/LeMieux Even though I already think you're pretty cool, I'll think you're .09% cooler if you gave her some moolah.
-On a related note, I am absolutely addicted to Hot108Jamz on iTunes Radio. I think I've heard Chamillionaire's "Ridin'" ("they see me rollin'/they hatin'/patrollin' they trynna catch me ridin' dirty) three times already today.
-I am finally facing what was previously only the potential situation of frequently running into my ex-girlfriend. Nicole is from the Bay Area and has been living back here only a few months since after I made the move myself. In my mind there are no "territories," but then again, I am semi-naive about that kind of thing...which doesn't work when there might be potential for the other person to go territorial on you. And having a current girlfriend who I love very much, Leah, but also Nicole now living only a few streets away and being tangentially...tangent...to the social scene I find myself in, well...it's definitely an interesting tightrope to now be walking and a list of priorities to potentially have to soon be making. For now I am trying to just be my normal, naive self and have fun with the people I like. But I sense that the real world will soon descend upon my pollyanna ass.
-Diamonds on my neck, diamonds on my grill.
-I guess I should release a thought that has been weighing on my mind for more than a month now, and which I can hardly contain sometimes during my current workday: I really, really want to work at Google. (I've had a phone interview so far).
Google, if you're out there because you got this blog address from my writing portfolio, please know that I'd be the best damn online editor you've ever brought on board.
-I recently bought my first road bike (which I previously called the ram-handle-bike-thingy). It's a classic (I guess) red Bianchi ten-speed with the shifter tabs on the down tube (that tube that goes from front to back in a diagonally-downward motion). And I LOVE it! I've only had it about a week and already I'm addicted. It opens up so much of San Francisco for exercising...or even just cruisin' around. As a runner, I could only make it so far before my knees decided they were, in fact, 70 years old, and I would have to turn around. But now I can actually go all throughout the Golden Gate Park, down to the ocean, up to the bay, over the GG Bridge and up the Marin Headlands, or even around the East Bay hills. It's great!
-I also joined the Y. I love the Y....there's something about little kids and senior citizens alike accompanying you in your quest for physical fitness that makes it so much better than Gold's Gym. Especially getting out of the pool because one of these groups made a poop.
Just kidding...that doesn't happen at the Embarcadero Y.
-'Member last year how you helped me to raise all that money and I ran that marathon? Well my good friend Christine is doing the same thing this year...and if you have a spare ten or twomp, send it her way via (that's Spanish [and Latin] for "way"):
http://www.active.com/donate/tntnca04/LeMieux Even though I already think you're pretty cool, I'll think you're .09% cooler if you gave her some moolah.
15.8.06
whoa
Well that was a long hiatus! Blogging is so...weird. I used to have a bagillion things to say about a bagillion things, and now I feel as though I don't. It's not that I don't have the same amount of musings or cerebral stimuli, but I must be getting it all out in my daily life rather than finding respite here at Blogger.
While I'm hesitant to make this post a mere 'update,' I'm sure all you readers (OK, reader) out there might want to know what the heck I've been up to since whenever it was I last wrote. Or maybe you don't. But that's the beauty of a blog.
This summer was pretty awesome. I went back east for two weeks, once again fulfilling role of daughter, granddaughter, cousin and niece. Oh, and bridesmaid. My cousin Katie got hitched to her new husband Andrew. It was a beautiful, southern wedding replete with multiple luncheons, bruncheons, receptions, rehearsals and Edenton, NC history. It was also the first time my mom and dad were both happily present at a family function since their seperation a few years ago...and, not that things had ever NOT been amicable between them, but this time they seemed very liberated. It was really nice to see them that way.
The rest of my trip involved some home time in Carlisle, another wedding in Syracuse, visiting Leah's hometown of Brookline/Boston, and spending the Fourth of July in our nation's capital. Needless to say, when I turned the rental car in at 2200 miles, I realized I had done what I set out to do.
Being back in SF the rest of the "summer," I've really been moved to search for a new job. I know it's important to stay somewhere for at least a year, but what to do when you have A) gotten your own job down to a "T" and B) know there's little room to "move up" at your company? And I've tried figuring out ways to help and collaborate more with my coworkers, but things move really slowly around here and people are hesitant to make changes. I feel that, at this point in my young career, I need to find an innovative place where there's a symbiotic relationship: I am challenged, engaged and therefore thriving, and the result of that contributes greatly to the company itself with the kick-back being more challenges and engagement.
It's in this way that I know I'm a good worker...I just haven't found my employer-counterpart. Maybe this is slightly idealistic, but even so, that's what I'm going after. Oh, and a writing/web-heavy job would be nice since, well, that's what I'm best at.
But it's all good. If we've talked on the phone lately you might be sick of hearing me say that I am absolutely in love with San Francisco. This city is full of so many beautiful things and awesome people; even a simple walk to a friend's house has at least one amazing view and a smile from a stranger.
Dear lord...I should probably go now on account of somehow being remarkably cheesy today. But I don't anticipate such long breaks between postings, so be sure to check in again soon. I promise I'll write something sarcastic.
While I'm hesitant to make this post a mere 'update,' I'm sure all you readers (OK, reader) out there might want to know what the heck I've been up to since whenever it was I last wrote. Or maybe you don't. But that's the beauty of a blog.
This summer was pretty awesome. I went back east for two weeks, once again fulfilling role of daughter, granddaughter, cousin and niece. Oh, and bridesmaid. My cousin Katie got hitched to her new husband Andrew. It was a beautiful, southern wedding replete with multiple luncheons, bruncheons, receptions, rehearsals and Edenton, NC history. It was also the first time my mom and dad were both happily present at a family function since their seperation a few years ago...and, not that things had ever NOT been amicable between them, but this time they seemed very liberated. It was really nice to see them that way.
The rest of my trip involved some home time in Carlisle, another wedding in Syracuse, visiting Leah's hometown of Brookline/Boston, and spending the Fourth of July in our nation's capital. Needless to say, when I turned the rental car in at 2200 miles, I realized I had done what I set out to do.
Being back in SF the rest of the "summer," I've really been moved to search for a new job. I know it's important to stay somewhere for at least a year, but what to do when you have A) gotten your own job down to a "T" and B) know there's little room to "move up" at your company? And I've tried figuring out ways to help and collaborate more with my coworkers, but things move really slowly around here and people are hesitant to make changes. I feel that, at this point in my young career, I need to find an innovative place where there's a symbiotic relationship: I am challenged, engaged and therefore thriving, and the result of that contributes greatly to the company itself with the kick-back being more challenges and engagement.
It's in this way that I know I'm a good worker...I just haven't found my employer-counterpart. Maybe this is slightly idealistic, but even so, that's what I'm going after. Oh, and a writing/web-heavy job would be nice since, well, that's what I'm best at.
But it's all good. If we've talked on the phone lately you might be sick of hearing me say that I am absolutely in love with San Francisco. This city is full of so many beautiful things and awesome people; even a simple walk to a friend's house has at least one amazing view and a smile from a stranger.
Dear lord...I should probably go now on account of somehow being remarkably cheesy today. But I don't anticipate such long breaks between postings, so be sure to check in again soon. I promise I'll write something sarcastic.
22.5.06
bay to breakers
Boston has the marathon, yes this is true, and I've heard all about the crazy time that day entails. But after yesterday, I'm pretty sure that San Francisco's Bay to Breakers 12k Run takes the cake when it comes to America's No. 1 street party.
Sunday morning rolled around and upon waking up at 6:30 I was having second thoughts. Even though I was registered and everything, first glance out the window looked ominous (it seemed on the verge of raining), I was warm and comfy in bed, and so going out to run 7 miles just didn't seem that palatable. I went into Karen's room and we agreed not to go.
Ten minutes later I hear someone knocking about the apartment so I get up and it's Karen, all showered and eating breakfast. "I think we should go," she said over some porridge, her hair wrapped in a towel.
"Me too."
Done. We got into our running clothes and headed towards BART where we sat alongside other runners, pirates, a giant chicken, and someone dressed up like a Muslim lady drinking a latte with a straw threw her burqa. We got off BART at The Embarcadero, greeted by tens of thousands of the other participants. One look down the wide boulevard yielded crazy people, naked people, floats, kegs, hooting, costumes...oh, and the sky was filled with flying corn tortillas.
FILLED with flying corn tortillas.
Karen and I looked at each other with that unwritten gleam that meant, "Holy shit! We're really glad we got out of bed for this!"
We crossed the start line and it's probably no surprise that someone had to pee, and that someone was NOT Karen. Of course, we had passed a row of port-o-potties like 2 minutes ago. But there's no turning around at Bay to Breakers; there's just too much fun stuff always ahead.
So we decided to hop into a bar so I could go...and of course, that became the secondary reason for being at the bar. We downed a pint and headed back out there.
Time? 8:15am.
And by 11 we had been treated to numerous free jello shots (some with whipped cream!), a dance party, beer from a giant red Smurf mushroom hut, another dance party, an old man's wrinkly penis, a ski shot (shot glasses attached to a ski--a group activity), people holding signs of lists of stuff that "God hates" (including, apparently, fun), the world's smallest penis (I swear to God), a marching band, balloons, beads, a lot of stuff I can't remember and...another dance party. We literally couldn't believe it wasn't even noon yet, and at the same time literally impressed that we had even made it 4 miles. (To our credit, we insisted that any sort of forward motion must be "on the jog.")
We eventually met up with the whole gang and preceded to set up camp somewhere in Golden Gate Park (the exact location of which escapes me) where, well, lots of stuff happened, none of which can be best described on a silly blog. Let's just say it seemed that the entire city of San Francisco thought making out in "the woods" was a good idea.
By 2pm things were winding down as a whole and the course had been closed; it started drizzling and most people decided to head home.
But not the ladies of 3646! Karen, Leigh and I decided it just wasn't "right" not to finish the run...what with how far we'd come and all. We said goodbye to the crew and headed, on the jog, to the Pacific Ocean.
Drunk, delirious, and down-right dirty we made it to the beach--the literal edge of America--and hopped in the frigid water, celebrating all we had accomplished. We washed our spirits clean and baptised ourselves in the merry attitude of California, finding joy in every thought and so thankful to be in a place where...
Then the beach police made us get out. In hindsight, I suppose it just wasn't "safe" for us to, well, be playing around in the freezing cold ocean drunk.
That was this year. Who's down for next??
Sunday morning rolled around and upon waking up at 6:30 I was having second thoughts. Even though I was registered and everything, first glance out the window looked ominous (it seemed on the verge of raining), I was warm and comfy in bed, and so going out to run 7 miles just didn't seem that palatable. I went into Karen's room and we agreed not to go.
Ten minutes later I hear someone knocking about the apartment so I get up and it's Karen, all showered and eating breakfast. "I think we should go," she said over some porridge, her hair wrapped in a towel.
"Me too."
Done. We got into our running clothes and headed towards BART where we sat alongside other runners, pirates, a giant chicken, and someone dressed up like a Muslim lady drinking a latte with a straw threw her burqa. We got off BART at The Embarcadero, greeted by tens of thousands of the other participants. One look down the wide boulevard yielded crazy people, naked people, floats, kegs, hooting, costumes...oh, and the sky was filled with flying corn tortillas.
FILLED with flying corn tortillas.
Karen and I looked at each other with that unwritten gleam that meant, "Holy shit! We're really glad we got out of bed for this!"
We crossed the start line and it's probably no surprise that someone had to pee, and that someone was NOT Karen. Of course, we had passed a row of port-o-potties like 2 minutes ago. But there's no turning around at Bay to Breakers; there's just too much fun stuff always ahead.
So we decided to hop into a bar so I could go...and of course, that became the secondary reason for being at the bar. We downed a pint and headed back out there.
Time? 8:15am.
And by 11 we had been treated to numerous free jello shots (some with whipped cream!), a dance party, beer from a giant red Smurf mushroom hut, another dance party, an old man's wrinkly penis, a ski shot (shot glasses attached to a ski--a group activity), people holding signs of lists of stuff that "God hates" (including, apparently, fun), the world's smallest penis (I swear to God), a marching band, balloons, beads, a lot of stuff I can't remember and...another dance party. We literally couldn't believe it wasn't even noon yet, and at the same time literally impressed that we had even made it 4 miles. (To our credit, we insisted that any sort of forward motion must be "on the jog.")
We eventually met up with the whole gang and preceded to set up camp somewhere in Golden Gate Park (the exact location of which escapes me) where, well, lots of stuff happened, none of which can be best described on a silly blog. Let's just say it seemed that the entire city of San Francisco thought making out in "the woods" was a good idea.
By 2pm things were winding down as a whole and the course had been closed; it started drizzling and most people decided to head home.
But not the ladies of 3646! Karen, Leigh and I decided it just wasn't "right" not to finish the run...what with how far we'd come and all. We said goodbye to the crew and headed, on the jog, to the Pacific Ocean.
Drunk, delirious, and down-right dirty we made it to the beach--the literal edge of America--and hopped in the frigid water, celebrating all we had accomplished. We washed our spirits clean and baptised ourselves in the merry attitude of California, finding joy in every thought and so thankful to be in a place where...
Then the beach police made us get out. In hindsight, I suppose it just wasn't "safe" for us to, well, be playing around in the freezing cold ocean drunk.
That was this year. Who's down for next??
18.5.06
finally, an answer?
Growing up moving every 2 years has always made it hard for me to answer the normally-easy question, "So, where are you from?"
But after this survey, I think it's pretty darn clear:
"You know you're from Pennsylvania if:
-You refer to Philadelphia as only "Philly."
-You refer to Pennsylvania as "PA" (pronounced Pee-ay).
-The first day of buck and the first day of doe season have always been school holidays in your town.
-You can use the phrase "fire hall wedding reception" and not even bat an eye.
-At least 5 people on your block have electric "candles" in all or most of their windows all year long.
-You know what a "Hex sign" is.
-You know what a "State Store" is, and your out-of-state friends find it incredulous that you can't purchase liquor at the mini-mart or beer at the grocery.
-It wouldn't be weird if you owned only three condiments: salt, pepper and Heinz ketchup.
-Words like "hoagie", "crick", "chipped ham", "sticky buns", "red-up", "pierogies" actually mean something to you.
-At least five of your friends' last names end in "-baugh" or "-berry."
-You've not only heard of Birch Beer, but know it comes in several colors: Red, White, Brown, Gold.
-You know several places to purchase or that serve Scrapple, Summer Sausage (Lebanon Bologna), Ring Bologna and Hot Bacon Dressing.
-You know the difference between a cheese steak & pizza steak sandwich, and know that you can't get a really good one outside PA.
-You live for summer, when street and county fairs signal the beginning of funnel cake season.
-You know what Blue Ball, Intercourse, Climax, Bird-in-Hand, Beaver, Moon, Virginville, Paradise, Mars, and Slippery Rock are.
-You know what a township, borough, and commonwealth is.
-You identify drivers from New York, New Jersey, or other neighboring states by their unique and irritating driving habits.
-You know that a traffic jam in Lancaster is ten cars waiting to pass an Amish buggy on the highway.
-You know several people who have hit deer more than once.
-"Yous guys" is a perfectly acceptable reference to a group of men & women.
-You know how to pronounce Bryn Mawr, Wilkes-Barre, Schuylkill, Bala Cynwyd, Monongahela, and Susquehanna
-You actually understand these questions and are you sending them on to other Pennsylvanians.
But after this survey, I think it's pretty darn clear:
"You know you're from Pennsylvania if:
-You refer to Philadelphia as only "Philly."
-You refer to Pennsylvania as "PA" (pronounced Pee-ay).
-The first day of buck and the first day of doe season have always been school holidays in your town.
-You can use the phrase "fire hall wedding reception" and not even bat an eye.
-At least 5 people on your block have electric "candles" in all or most of their windows all year long.
-You know what a "Hex sign" is.
-You know what a "State Store" is, and your out-of-state friends find it incredulous that you can't purchase liquor at the mini-mart or beer at the grocery.
-It wouldn't be weird if you owned only three condiments: salt, pepper and Heinz ketchup.
-Words like "hoagie", "crick", "chipped ham", "sticky buns", "red-up", "pierogies" actually mean something to you.
-At least five of your friends' last names end in "-baugh" or "-berry."
-You've not only heard of Birch Beer, but know it comes in several colors: Red, White, Brown, Gold.
-You know several places to purchase or that serve Scrapple, Summer Sausage (Lebanon Bologna), Ring Bologna and Hot Bacon Dressing.
-You know the difference between a cheese steak & pizza steak sandwich, and know that you can't get a really good one outside PA.
-You live for summer, when street and county fairs signal the beginning of funnel cake season.
-You know what Blue Ball, Intercourse, Climax, Bird-in-Hand, Beaver, Moon, Virginville, Paradise, Mars, and Slippery Rock are.
-You know what a township, borough, and commonwealth is.
-You identify drivers from New York, New Jersey, or other neighboring states by their unique and irritating driving habits.
-You know that a traffic jam in Lancaster is ten cars waiting to pass an Amish buggy on the highway.
-You know several people who have hit deer more than once.
-"Yous guys" is a perfectly acceptable reference to a group of men & women.
-You know how to pronounce Bryn Mawr, Wilkes-Barre, Schuylkill, Bala Cynwyd, Monongahela, and Susquehanna
-You actually understand these questions and are you sending them on to other Pennsylvanians.
4.5.06
miscellaneous...thursday?
Here are the big updates in my life:
-I got a new cell phone. No, not a new number. Just a new phone.
-I am working on a life-plan map chart.
-Brad came to visit last weekend and we had a great time. We played tennis, went to a Giants' game, laughed, went to Zeitgeist, saw a movie, went to the Secret Beach (where, accidentally, there were about 100 naked gay men lying around with their asses sticking up in the air. Sorry, Brad!), laughed, drank bloody marys.
-I am obsessed with tennis.
-Mohommed has almost got his vowels down pat.
-Spring lacrosse coaching is done.
-I changed my sheets to spring linens.
-Zacarias Moussaoui got a life sentence and oil prices continue to skyrocket.
Here are other miscellaneous things:
-This is one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my entire life.
Ok, it was just one.
Sorry I haven't blogged as much lately!
-I got a new cell phone. No, not a new number. Just a new phone.
-I am working on a life-plan map chart.
-Brad came to visit last weekend and we had a great time. We played tennis, went to a Giants' game, laughed, went to Zeitgeist, saw a movie, went to the Secret Beach (where, accidentally, there were about 100 naked gay men lying around with their asses sticking up in the air. Sorry, Brad!), laughed, drank bloody marys.
-I am obsessed with tennis.
-Mohommed has almost got his vowels down pat.
-Spring lacrosse coaching is done.
-I changed my sheets to spring linens.
-Zacarias Moussaoui got a life sentence and oil prices continue to skyrocket.
Here are other miscellaneous things:
-This is one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my entire life.
Ok, it was just one.
Sorry I haven't blogged as much lately!
7.4.06
is the golden rule ridiculous?
The Golden Rule sucks. No, for realsies.
Sometimes it just gets the best of me.
Not that I'm some angel of niceness, but unfortunately I was bestowed with an awareness of how to lend a helping hand to--or to be thoughtful for/mindful of--others, most of the time. And so I find it difficult sometimes to deal when I'm confronted with others' inability to do the same.
I know, I know.
This seems like a silly thing to get frustrated about, and perhaps a smidgen contradictory to the underlying premise of the golden rule (which I will now de-capitalize out of disdain)--which is to simply do unto others as you'd have them do unto you.
No strings attached, right?
Well, psychologically I think it is impossible to do good without a nano-percentage of that being "for you." Even if it's the feeling of gladness for doing that thing, helping that person, or saving those whales, you still got gladness in return. So, admittedly, actions of good have personal rewards.
I don't think, however, that that necessarily affects the sincerity of the action(s), nor does it make them selfish.
On top of that inherent 'goodness,' I can't say I don't want a taste more in return...say, understanding. To be more specific, it's nice when people don't act like your requests are ridiculous.
For starters, do you really think I'd ask something "ridiculous"?? If so, why? And what is ridiculous, anyway?
Also, don't you think that if I am asking such things, that I would be OK with a similar request from you?
Get off of your fucking high-horse about things and try to see why I might even think to ask you...or suggest to you...or request...or say...whatever it is that you've deemed "ridiculous."
And so I hate the golden rule. Sometimes.
Maybe I just hate when people are so quick to label me/things about me as "ridiculous."
If you're actually being serious, then to me that's the ultimately most-uncompassionate thing you could ever say to me.
Sometimes it just gets the best of me.
Not that I'm some angel of niceness, but unfortunately I was bestowed with an awareness of how to lend a helping hand to--or to be thoughtful for/mindful of--others, most of the time. And so I find it difficult sometimes to deal when I'm confronted with others' inability to do the same.
I know, I know.
This seems like a silly thing to get frustrated about, and perhaps a smidgen contradictory to the underlying premise of the golden rule (which I will now de-capitalize out of disdain)--which is to simply do unto others as you'd have them do unto you.
No strings attached, right?
Well, psychologically I think it is impossible to do good without a nano-percentage of that being "for you." Even if it's the feeling of gladness for doing that thing, helping that person, or saving those whales, you still got gladness in return. So, admittedly, actions of good have personal rewards.
I don't think, however, that that necessarily affects the sincerity of the action(s), nor does it make them selfish.
On top of that inherent 'goodness,' I can't say I don't want a taste more in return...say, understanding. To be more specific, it's nice when people don't act like your requests are ridiculous.
For starters, do you really think I'd ask something "ridiculous"?? If so, why? And what is ridiculous, anyway?
Also, don't you think that if I am asking such things, that I would be OK with a similar request from you?
Get off of your fucking high-horse about things and try to see why I might even think to ask you...or suggest to you...or request...or say...whatever it is that you've deemed "ridiculous."
And so I hate the golden rule. Sometimes.
Maybe I just hate when people are so quick to label me/things about me as "ridiculous."
If you're actually being serious, then to me that's the ultimately most-uncompassionate thing you could ever say to me.
5.4.06
misc. wednesday
-I feel like the only real blog posts I do anymore are misc. wednesdays...I wish I had more in me than that.
-Today on my lunch break I went to Old Navy (yeah, there's a shopping "complex" near my work. mer bear would be jealous. I shouldn't tell her there's also a ROSS.) I bought myself a pair of bermuda shorts (I might go there some day, so I thought I'd be prepared) and a self-proclaimed "sun-kissed polo." I mostly sat in the dressing room laughing to myself at the sun-kissed polo tag. When the hell did polo shirts need to be sun-kissed, and who thought of that anyway?? It conjures up a fresh field of polo shirts blowing in the breeze, bees buzzing around the collars trying to pollinate in vain, and small asthmatic blonde children sneezing their small asthmatic blonde-children sneezes. I mean, is this the next step in the evolution of clothing nomenclature, begun by those wizards over at J. Crew who invented another color spectrum, the likes of which include "mariposa" and "creme fraiche-nougat balsa"? Even L.L.Bean ca. 1993 seems ghetto with polo-shirt lines such as "sun-kissed."
Sure is soft though!
-Speaking of marketing gimmicks, another thing I noticed was the lotion industry's obsession with both Scandinavia and/or Switzerland, which begs the question: Are the Nords really better at lotion-making than, say, Africans? And at which point did we all start accepting this as truth?
St. Ives boasts "original Swiss formula" and includes one special "whipped silk" in its product line, which claims the ancient power of...moisturizing?. Neutrogena has a navy-and-red-schemed design on a field of pure white decking out its straight-forward, no-nonsene, super-efficient-and-humorless bottle for its "Norwegian Formula" ('DRY-ROUGH SKIN ONLY!!!). Then there are all the wittle generic bwands on the far ends, meekly waving paper versions of their Aryan counterparts' national flags. "Compare to Neutrogena!" and "Same Active Ingredients As St. Ives!" they shout at the top of their water-logged lungs. But they're not fooling anybody except...well, mayhaps a few deal-sniffers or coupon-clippers.
Personally, I went for the Neutrogena.
-I once knew a man from Nantucket.
-R.I.P.: Carlisle HS German class's annual gingerbread-house-for-a-whole-month building. 1990-2006.
I guess the administration finally figured out that spending the whole month of December having students build a gingerbread house "just because it's kinda German-ish" wasn't the best use of time. Es tut mir leid, Frau Dete.
-Best pick up line ever, by Lizzy Wilmarth: "So. Slavery. How fucked up was that??"
-I'm gonna have to go ahead and say my favorite animal is the gibbon.
-What are you people doing this weekend?
-Today's Compare and Contrast: immigration debate and taxes
The ongoing immigration debate is interesting; taxes are boring.
-Today on my lunch break I went to Old Navy (yeah, there's a shopping "complex" near my work. mer bear would be jealous. I shouldn't tell her there's also a ROSS.) I bought myself a pair of bermuda shorts (I might go there some day, so I thought I'd be prepared) and a self-proclaimed "sun-kissed polo." I mostly sat in the dressing room laughing to myself at the sun-kissed polo tag. When the hell did polo shirts need to be sun-kissed, and who thought of that anyway?? It conjures up a fresh field of polo shirts blowing in the breeze, bees buzzing around the collars trying to pollinate in vain, and small asthmatic blonde children sneezing their small asthmatic blonde-children sneezes. I mean, is this the next step in the evolution of clothing nomenclature, begun by those wizards over at J. Crew who invented another color spectrum, the likes of which include "mariposa" and "creme fraiche-nougat balsa"? Even L.L.Bean ca. 1993 seems ghetto with polo-shirt lines such as "sun-kissed."
Sure is soft though!
-Speaking of marketing gimmicks, another thing I noticed was the lotion industry's obsession with both Scandinavia and/or Switzerland, which begs the question: Are the Nords really better at lotion-making than, say, Africans? And at which point did we all start accepting this as truth?
St. Ives boasts "original Swiss formula" and includes one special "whipped silk" in its product line, which claims the ancient power of...moisturizing?. Neutrogena has a navy-and-red-schemed design on a field of pure white decking out its straight-forward, no-nonsene, super-efficient-and-humorless bottle for its "Norwegian Formula" ('DRY-ROUGH SKIN ONLY!!!). Then there are all the wittle generic bwands on the far ends, meekly waving paper versions of their Aryan counterparts' national flags. "Compare to Neutrogena!" and "Same Active Ingredients As St. Ives!" they shout at the top of their water-logged lungs. But they're not fooling anybody except...well, mayhaps a few deal-sniffers or coupon-clippers.
Personally, I went for the Neutrogena.
-I once knew a man from Nantucket.
-R.I.P.: Carlisle HS German class's annual gingerbread-house-for-a-whole-month building. 1990-2006.
I guess the administration finally figured out that spending the whole month of December having students build a gingerbread house "just because it's kinda German-ish" wasn't the best use of time. Es tut mir leid, Frau Dete.
-Best pick up line ever, by Lizzy Wilmarth: "So. Slavery. How fucked up was that??"
-I'm gonna have to go ahead and say my favorite animal is the gibbon.
-What are you people doing this weekend?
-Today's Compare and Contrast: immigration debate and taxes
The ongoing immigration debate is interesting; taxes are boring.
28.3.06
I need a drink
emily meehan's latest installment of "Act One" in the wall street j
somehow, my point about having a budget came across more as me having a drinking problem.
somehow, my point about having a budget came across more as me having a drinking problem.
22.3.06
misc. wednesday
-Went to Belle and Sebastian last night. I had great company, it was a great show and they are one of my favorite bands, but I must say that, save those of independent hip-hop or music festivals (OK, OK, or Indigo Girls), I'm a tad over concerts in general. They are fun and it has nothing to do with the music, but sometimes it's weird to just stand there and watch the people perform. I like going to concerts and hanging out, but it gets odd when you can't really do that because the venue or crowd mood and you're just kind of standing there watching from a distance a band that is playing pretty much the exact stuff on their albums. With the hip-hop, the bluegrass, the music festivals, (and the Indigo Girls), there is usually improvisation and crowd engagement/dancing. But especially the indie rock I've noticed, it's a hilarious bunch of indie hipsters standing like statues facing forward, kind of swaying. Cracks me up.
-Song Du Jour: No More Drama by Mary J
"It feels so good/when you let go of all the drama in your life/Now you're free from all the pain, free from all the games/free from all the stress/to find your happiness."
-Started coaching lacrosse at Mercy HS. It’s so interesting to see how new the sport is out here on the west coast, but how enthusiastic kids are to learn it despite the fact that it was never one of those sports they grew up with, like soccer or softball. The girls are so excited to learn even though they've lost their first few games and keep getting called for rules they don't know yet. I'm looking forward to their progress.
-Also finishing up training this week for ProjectRead, the adult literacy program at the SF library. I really can't believe how many adults out there can't read or write, and, even more interesting, how they got to that point. Some just fell through the cracks and made it through the school system--diploma and all--but can't read above second grade. Others never got to go to school past third or fourth grade because of family problems or moving. Whatever the reason, they've decided to get help, which is where PR comes in. We work with the learners as their learning partner to get them to where they want to be. That could be as simple as wanting to know enough just to fill out a job application, or as long of a journey as getting to college.
Just in the training, which has been a few weeks, 6 hours a week, we've learned so much ourselves. From how and why the learners are where they are, to how we fit in to getting them to achieve their goals, to seeing how complex reading and writing actually is when taken in the context of someone who can't. I've learned that there are a million things I take for granted everytime I read something as simple as a menu or write an email. Good stuff.
-Congratulations to Brad who got into a lot of his top choice of grad schools, including Yale and the Fletcher School at Tufts.
-I was talking to my friend Molly from home yesterday and she's been back there for about a month just chillin' as a Carlisle townie for a bit. She was telling me all about her townie life and how she hangs out with some guys from our high school class--they were never 'best friends' or 'not friends'--just friends. She said her and one of them "go on bike rides." I was laughing out loud because only in Carlisle would two people who happen to be there at the same time start hanging out regularly and go on bike rides through the country.
I can't say I don't miss it:)
-When two people created between them, over the years and perhaps unknowingly, a crappy, unhealthy and untrusting relationship, it is really hard for them each to get to the point where each of them is comfortable and wants to establish a friendship. There is no fault; it just happened that way. To some, it might be 'sad' that it is that way, but that is not the way I see it. I see it as a huge learning experience that couldn't really have happened either way. In exchange for the heaps of personal lessons gained, a friendship may have been sacrificed. A friendship is carefree, loving and fun. I feel none of these things. At least not yet.
-Today's Compare and Contrast: Apples and Oranges
Apples are either red, green, yellow or a combination of the three. Oranges are orange or red, and can also be a combination of both. Apples can be sweet, tart, or both at the same time. Oranges can claim the same flavor spectrum. Apples and Oranges are both juicy and have seeds and stems, but Apples have cores, which Oranges don't. I've never come across a mealy Orange though. Both have peels, but it is easier to remove an Orange peel than that of an Apple.
Underpaid Central-American migrant workers usually pick both, sometimes within the same year.
-Song Du Jour: No More Drama by Mary J
"It feels so good/when you let go of all the drama in your life/Now you're free from all the pain, free from all the games/free from all the stress/to find your happiness."
-Started coaching lacrosse at Mercy HS. It’s so interesting to see how new the sport is out here on the west coast, but how enthusiastic kids are to learn it despite the fact that it was never one of those sports they grew up with, like soccer or softball. The girls are so excited to learn even though they've lost their first few games and keep getting called for rules they don't know yet. I'm looking forward to their progress.
-Also finishing up training this week for ProjectRead, the adult literacy program at the SF library. I really can't believe how many adults out there can't read or write, and, even more interesting, how they got to that point. Some just fell through the cracks and made it through the school system--diploma and all--but can't read above second grade. Others never got to go to school past third or fourth grade because of family problems or moving. Whatever the reason, they've decided to get help, which is where PR comes in. We work with the learners as their learning partner to get them to where they want to be. That could be as simple as wanting to know enough just to fill out a job application, or as long of a journey as getting to college.
Just in the training, which has been a few weeks, 6 hours a week, we've learned so much ourselves. From how and why the learners are where they are, to how we fit in to getting them to achieve their goals, to seeing how complex reading and writing actually is when taken in the context of someone who can't. I've learned that there are a million things I take for granted everytime I read something as simple as a menu or write an email. Good stuff.
-Congratulations to Brad who got into a lot of his top choice of grad schools, including Yale and the Fletcher School at Tufts.
-I was talking to my friend Molly from home yesterday and she's been back there for about a month just chillin' as a Carlisle townie for a bit. She was telling me all about her townie life and how she hangs out with some guys from our high school class--they were never 'best friends' or 'not friends'--just friends. She said her and one of them "go on bike rides." I was laughing out loud because only in Carlisle would two people who happen to be there at the same time start hanging out regularly and go on bike rides through the country.
I can't say I don't miss it:)
-When two people created between them, over the years and perhaps unknowingly, a crappy, unhealthy and untrusting relationship, it is really hard for them each to get to the point where each of them is comfortable and wants to establish a friendship. There is no fault; it just happened that way. To some, it might be 'sad' that it is that way, but that is not the way I see it. I see it as a huge learning experience that couldn't really have happened either way. In exchange for the heaps of personal lessons gained, a friendship may have been sacrificed. A friendship is carefree, loving and fun. I feel none of these things. At least not yet.
-Today's Compare and Contrast: Apples and Oranges
Apples are either red, green, yellow or a combination of the three. Oranges are orange or red, and can also be a combination of both. Apples can be sweet, tart, or both at the same time. Oranges can claim the same flavor spectrum. Apples and Oranges are both juicy and have seeds and stems, but Apples have cores, which Oranges don't. I've never come across a mealy Orange though. Both have peels, but it is easier to remove an Orange peel than that of an Apple.
Underpaid Central-American migrant workers usually pick both, sometimes within the same year.
17.3.06
um, yeah...not so much.
That was one of the worst basketball games I've ever seen in my life.
And I only got to see the last five minutes.
I'm sorta torn between my loyalty to Syracuse and completely dissing them for one of the --if not THE-- most pitiful and lame performances in their entire history.
Moving on, though...
Happy Saint Patty's Day!!
And I only got to see the last five minutes.
I'm sorta torn between my loyalty to Syracuse and completely dissing them for one of the --if not THE-- most pitiful and lame performances in their entire history.
Moving on, though...
Happy Saint Patty's Day!!
16.3.06
my bracket
Atlanta:
First Round:
Duke
George Wash.
CUSE
LSU
West Virginia
Iowa
Cal
Texas
Oakland:
Memphis
Bucknell
Pitt
Kansas
SDSU
Gonzaga
Marquette
UCLA
D.C.:
UConn
UAB
Utah
Illinois
Mich. State
UNC
Seton Hall
Minneapolis:
Tenn.
Nova
Wisconsin
Nevada
BC
Wisc-Mil
Florida
Georgetown
Ohio
Sweet Sixteen:
Duke
CUSE
Iowa
Texas
Memphis
Kansas
Gonzaga
UCLA
UConn
Illinois
UNC
Tenn.
Nova
BC
Florida
Georgetown
Elite Eight:
CUSE
Texas
Kansas
UCLA
UConn
UNC
Nova
Florida
Final Four:
CUSE
Kansas
UConn
Nova
Final Game:
CUSE
UConn
Syracuse wins 86-84
First Round:
Duke
George Wash.
CUSE
LSU
West Virginia
Iowa
Cal
Texas
Oakland:
Memphis
Bucknell
Pitt
Kansas
SDSU
Gonzaga
Marquette
UCLA
D.C.:
UConn
UAB
Utah
Illinois
Mich. State
UNC
Seton Hall
Minneapolis:
Tenn.
Nova
Wisconsin
Nevada
BC
Wisc-Mil
Florida
Georgetown
Ohio
Sweet Sixteen:
Duke
CUSE
Iowa
Texas
Memphis
Kansas
Gonzaga
UCLA
UConn
Illinois
UNC
Tenn.
Nova
BC
Florida
Georgetown
Elite Eight:
CUSE
Texas
Kansas
UCLA
UConn
UNC
Nova
Florida
Final Four:
CUSE
Kansas
UConn
Nova
Final Game:
CUSE
UConn
Syracuse wins 86-84
10.3.06
your input
So over the next month or so I'm gonna vamp up my blog and hopefully start a podcast. Of course, this is contingent upon a lot of things, but still. It's a big fat goal I have.
Whatchoo people want? Please let me know what you think would be cool. Any suggestions welcome.
Thanksers!
Whatchoo people want? Please let me know what you think would be cool. Any suggestions welcome.
Thanksers!
9.3.06
just kidding, south dakotes
Yesterday I compared you to Puritan New England, based on your recent banning of abortion. I didn't mean this as a complete insult (there were some good/fun things about Puritant NE), and I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate what you're doing out there on the prairie.
You see, our system is designed for this kind of thing. So just as I have the right (well, at least for now) to go get my uterus gutted, you have the right to try not to let me. We battle it out--exchange words and perhaps slap one another with gloves or silly-sloganed picket signs--and then we hire our best minds to take it into the courtroom for final review.
And so far, you're up.
And you know what? You just might win. We did in the 70's and...I understand the ebb and flow of victory. I mean, just three years ago the Orangemen were on their way to winning the national championship and...well, let's not talk about that right now.
The point is, you have every right to try to ban abortion. Good for you, if that's what you believe in. And if you win I guess I'd come over and shake your hand.
Of course I'd then wash mine of any responsibility for turning back the clock of modernity. But still, "Good job," I'd say. "You deserve it."
Because you'll deserve the back-alley abortions, the unwanted children, and the financial backlash and strain on your one-zip-coded system that comes along with such an antiquated law.
You see, our system is designed for this kind of thing. So just as I have the right (well, at least for now) to go get my uterus gutted, you have the right to try not to let me. We battle it out--exchange words and perhaps slap one another with gloves or silly-sloganed picket signs--and then we hire our best minds to take it into the courtroom for final review.
And so far, you're up.
And you know what? You just might win. We did in the 70's and...I understand the ebb and flow of victory. I mean, just three years ago the Orangemen were on their way to winning the national championship and...well, let's not talk about that right now.
The point is, you have every right to try to ban abortion. Good for you, if that's what you believe in. And if you win I guess I'd come over and shake your hand.
Of course I'd then wash mine of any responsibility for turning back the clock of modernity. But still, "Good job," I'd say. "You deserve it."
Because you'll deserve the back-alley abortions, the unwanted children, and the financial backlash and strain on your one-zip-coded system that comes along with such an antiquated law.
8.3.06
misc. wednesday
-I think that if a relationship starts out complicated, it will exist as such.
On a related note...if it starts out easy, it will exist as just that.
And it is.
-My new favorite Mozart song is Symphony No. 40 in G Minor: Andate
-A good passage:
"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate."
-Bernard Mickey Wrangle, aka, The Woodpecker
-The rest of that quote to follow at the appropriate time.
-The more I do sudoku, the more I can't stop doing sudoku. It's a vicious cycle, much like sudoku itself.
-Is it just me, or does the L Word completely suck this season? And the Oscar DOES NOT go to the chick that plays Moira. Are you f-ing kidding me?? Any Moira scene last week was like a horrible afterschool special.
That being said, I always look forward to the next episode with mucho delightio. My prediction is that Tina will end up with sex-changed Moira/Max because T-Bone's fiending for the magic stick. [Credit for this prediction given to my L-Word watchin' crew as a whole]
-I think I have a two-year plan. I've never had a two-year plan.
It's exciting. Inquire within.
-Ali Lee's in town...woohoo!
-Not sure if you caught Marketplace yesterday, but about 23:30 into the program they played a 10-second snippet of a song by the South African band 'Freshly Ground' related to a story on the SA clothing company Loxion Kulcha. Mmmhmm...song suggestion courtesy of yours truly and Kar-Bear Weidert!
-Today's Compare and Contrast: South Dakota and 17th-Century New England
Same.
On a related note...if it starts out easy, it will exist as just that.
And it is.
-My new favorite Mozart song is Symphony No. 40 in G Minor: Andate
-A good passage:
"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate."
-Bernard Mickey Wrangle, aka, The Woodpecker
-The rest of that quote to follow at the appropriate time.
-The more I do sudoku, the more I can't stop doing sudoku. It's a vicious cycle, much like sudoku itself.
-Is it just me, or does the L Word completely suck this season? And the Oscar DOES NOT go to the chick that plays Moira. Are you f-ing kidding me?? Any Moira scene last week was like a horrible afterschool special.
That being said, I always look forward to the next episode with mucho delightio. My prediction is that Tina will end up with sex-changed Moira/Max because T-Bone's fiending for the magic stick. [Credit for this prediction given to my L-Word watchin' crew as a whole]
-I think I have a two-year plan. I've never had a two-year plan.
It's exciting. Inquire within.
-Ali Lee's in town...woohoo!
-Not sure if you caught Marketplace yesterday, but about 23:30 into the program they played a 10-second snippet of a song by the South African band 'Freshly Ground' related to a story on the SA clothing company Loxion Kulcha. Mmmhmm...song suggestion courtesy of yours truly and Kar-Bear Weidert!
-Today's Compare and Contrast: South Dakota and 17th-Century New England
Same.
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