It's a hot morning here--dry and dusty with hints of lime-cilantro. A cactus mews in the distance, because they don't have cats. Those, along with the Shermans' new baby girl, were all eaten by the coyotes.
OCYSLG is in his bedroom, which smells both musty and fresh, getting ready for Work. He's listening to a hip new band very few people know about. He loves music, but the only thing he doesn't do is Mariachi.
He only ties a single Windsor, however, which can be interpreted as either lazy or an attempt at maintaining his iconoclastic image. OTG might also be there, but I don't know if they see each other on worknights. It doesn't matter, though. It's cool.
After the whole single-knot thing, OCYSLG "does his hair." Or whatever's left of it these days. He's young but he's got a rapidly receding hairline which he hides most of the time underneath an authentically-worn (not the kind you buy pre-worn at Abercrombie) cowboy hat.
He gathers the day's paperwork and stuffs it in his old backpack, grabs a bowl of organic granola with elderberries and soy milk...I mean, a leftover piece of meatzza...on his way out the door. He may or may not kiss OTG goodbye.
OCYSLG's friend, OTD, is doing the same thing, but his hair requires more attention because there's more of it. This trait gives OTD a one-up over OCYSLG when the two argue over hypothetical combat scenarios.
OTD is currently in a sad stage of life because he has recently parted ways with someone special, the cause of which is at the moment unknown but probably his own fault. The worst is when people complain about life situations which they caused, and OTD's doing a lot of that these days.
Irregardless being a word now, he grabs some fast food on his way in to Work. Inevitably, he'll one day be bitching about having adult-onset diabetes or no more money, and end his own life due to whichever comes first. For now, though, he's nobly trying to live life to the fullest extent and, well, there's no room for criticizing Carpe Diem in this story.
Both OCYSLG and OTD arrive at Work. They dismount their horsies and chain them to the iron bars outside. They chat about Work and how they love it and hate it at the same time. They can do this because they're in the special Workers clique.
The clique's formation is not unreasonable like most cliques', though, since being a Worker is one of the toughest jobs out there. On a daily basis they are responsible for many things which impact the future of our society and its individuals. As such, everyday at Work is both an uphill and downhill battle, the latter of which being the key to Chamberlain's success at Gettysburg.
In addition to keeping the peace and fighting various battles, they are also forced to work within the screwed-up Structure of Worktion which runs much like the Great Glass Elevator:
it has the ability to take you anywhere you want to go, but most of the time just dumps you vis-a-vis a gang of Vermicious Knids.
OCYSLG and OTD say goodbye for now and head off to their own Workrooms, where they get busy Working and impacting the future of back-of-the-house restaurant workers and maybe even the next mayor of San Francisco.
Their day can be likened to a bag of Seneca Apple Chips. The idea of the apple is there. Indeed, that's the basis of the chip itself. But there's something extra delicious about the crispy, buttery and tart taste that keeps you reaching your hand in the only-half-filled bag (contents settle due to shipping).
You continue to munch on this satisfying snack until it's all gone, at which point you kind of wish you had just eaten a real apple like in the days of yore! But it's so hard to eat real apples these days due to the exorbitant regulations surrounding them per the Pomum Protocol imposed by the Structure of Worktion. Plus, fruit--who needs it?
After Work, OCYSLG and OTD agree to hit up the local cantina for some drinks and meaty meat meat. They mount their horsies, amidst much heckling from all the normal people driving cars, and trot on down to I Wish It Wasn't Monday's for some manly conversation and strawberry daiquiries.
"A sloth could not change a baby's diaper faster than a cheetah," rebuts OTD to OCYSLG's claim that, yes, it could.
After one too many Mike'ses, they agree on one animal that is good at changing diapers:
a woman.
They decide to end their evening on this congenial note and part ways.
For a brief moment they are sad to leave one another. They are best friends in a town of their worst enemies: boredom, anxiety, isolationism, and the lack of a decent record store. Parting is difficult, but they manage it every time.
On the ride home, OTD gets pulled over and ticketed for drunk horseback riding, although the actual ticket reads "just get a car cowboy." In addition to this harassment, the ticket comes with a paycheck's worth of a fine.
OCYSLG swings by and picks up OTG. They talk about other stuff not related to sloths and cheetahs...most of it's OCYSLG's daily musings which prepares OTG for sleeping. He kisses her goodnight, drifts off and then dreams of HOSO. The moon shines bright through the slats.
It was a typical day here and our mysteriously-named friends have made the best of it.
They are their own sheriffs in a border town where no one really does the whole Wild West Thing anymore. In fact, no one really does a whole lot of anything anymore. Either that or they're doing things they don't like, they don't need, or that they despise.
But our friends are spending their lives the way they want to.
Even if they don't have a penny to show for it.
23.3.05
you be the judge
I usually don't follow news stories to such a detailed extent, but this one has truly piqued my interest.
In addition to raising many hard questions about our own lives, deaths and morals, the Terri Schiavo case also makes me reconsider my position on federalism.
(Yes, I have a position on federalism and I reconsider it regularly.)
Basically, who gets to rule over what? This case has been bounced back and forth between local, state and federal jurisdiction and most recently, points out a rather large discrepency with most Republicans' view of leaving most things to "the States." With their special bill, the US Congress essentially trespassed on Florida's property. It went in and took the case from one jurisdiction and moved it to another. This really gets me going, especially when they tout the importance of State's rights on other issues which favor their political agenda.
But in this case, I'm finding it difficult to be such a hard-liner when it comes to federalism. Indeed, this one's a tough call. Sometimes the Federal government needs to step in if they don't find a State's goings-on appropriate. Like in Arkansas during Civil Rights.
Then again, I'm skeptical about some federal lawmakers simply using a strictly-Florida case for their own political gain on the national level.
No matter what, though, cases like this will at least keep nerds like me thinking about the Constitution and our judicial system. In addition, there's one thing that the Terri Schiavo case clearly points out, and that's the importance of making a living will.
In case you're wondering what's been happening for the past decade, here's my summary which draws on numerous resources:
1990
-Terri has cardiac arrest, the initial injury leading to her state today
-Court appoints Terri's husband Michael Schiavo as her guardian and the Schindlers (Terri's family) do not object
1993
-After disagreeing over settlement money from a malpractice suit involving Terri, Schindlers try to remove Michael as Terri's guardian but court rejects request
1998
-Michael's first attempt to remove feeding tube, challenged by the Schindlers
2000
-Florida Judge Greer presides over case; orders removal of tube; permits a stay (or delay) of removal until April 20, 2001 in order for the Schindlers' appeals to be given a chance
2001
-Schindlers challenge first ruling, but their appeal is denied in Florida's Second District of Appeal; removal of tube upheld
-Schindlers' attempt of rehearing in Appellate Court denied, as well as their attempt to extend the stay beyond April 20th
-Schindlers petition the Florida Supreme Court to extend stay, FLSC denies review of situation but a Federal District Judge extends the stay until April 23rd so that the Schindlers can appeal to the SCOTUS
-SCOTUS denies writ (doesn't accept the case)
-Per original State Judge Greer's order, the tube is removed on April 24th
-Schindlers file an emergency motion with Greer and a new civil suit against Michael. Two days later, a Federal Circuit Court judge orders the reinsertion of the tube due to this new civil suit
-Now Michael files an emergency motion to remove the tube with the Florida Second District of Appeal, but that court gives it back to original Judge Greer, who, in mid August, finds that the tube be removed again. He sets the date for October 9th in order to give the family time to appeal. That delay is extended indefinitely by the 2DCA (Greer's next-higher court)
2002
-Michael and Schindlers try to work things out ("mediation") but fail to do so
-After months of battling over whether a new set of doctors can review Terri's condition (they eventually do), Shindlers ask for more time to again try to remove Michael as Terri's guardian. But on November 22nd, Judge Greer again rules against them and orders the removal of the tube on January 3, 2003. He then stays the ruling saying the tube must remain until the Schindlers have finished all appeals
2003
-Half a year later in June, the 2DCA affirms Greer's decision to remove the tube. The date is set for October 15th
-The FLSC refuses once again to hear the case
-Schindlers appeal to the Federal courts--with Gov. Bush as a backer--but the Federal judge say's it's not in his jurisdiction
-On October 15th the tube is removed again
-Advocacy groups and such turn to the Florida legislators, who, on October 21st pass "Terri's Law," which allows Gov. Bush to override the courts using a one-time stay. The tube is reinserted that day
-Backed by the ACLU, Michael says the law is unconstitutional. He files a lawsuit in the state court
-Gov. Bush tries to stop Michael's lawsuit, but is denied. Bush appeals to the next higher court and also tries to remove the judge who denied him. That petition is itself denied.
2004
-In early May "Terri's Law" is ruled unconstitutional by the Florida Circuit Court. Bush appeals and Michael petitions that the appeal skips the 2DCA and goes straight to the FLSC. Michael's petition is approved
-On September 23 the FLSC unanimously votes that "Terri's Law" is unconstitutional
-Judge Greer, who was reelected by a land slide, stays the removal of her tube until December 6th
-Gov. Bush appeals the "Terri's Law" FLSC ruling to the SCOTUS but on January 24th, 2005, the SCOTUS denies writ
2005
-The tube is still set for removal, but the date is TBA per Judge Greer's orders that all pending appeals (in other related cases regarding guardianship, etc.) have been completed
-Greer sets removal date of February 23rd, which is the day he's expected to hear the last appeal
-On the 23rd, he stays the removal until the 25th, in order to give him time to issue his official and detailed orders. He says, “absent a stay from the appellate courts, the guardian, Michael Schiavo, shall cause the removal of nutrition and hydration from the ward, Theresa Schiavo, at 1 p.m. on Friday, March 18, 2005." The Schindlers appeal to the 2DCA but last week (March 16th), that court upheld Greer's decision
in the last few days:
-18: The US House Committee on Government Reform tries to intervene by ordering subpoenas requiring Michael and Terri to appear before it. It also asks Greer to stay his decision and asks the FLSC to reverse Greer's decision--both say no. Tube is removed.
-19-20: Congress stays in DC to pass a private bill, which gives the Middle District of Florida jurisdiction over the case. The Bill, S.686 is a special "private bill," not intended for use by future courts or to make 'special' rights for Terri.
-22: Judge Whittemore of that Middle District refused reinsertion of tube. Schindlers appeal to the US Court of Appeals for the 11th Circuit
-Today: A three-judge panel from that Circuit votes 2-1 against reinserting the tube saying that the Schindlers have "failed to demonstrate a substantial case on the merits of any of their claims." The Schindlers are requesting a rehearing by the full 12 justices, hoping to keep Terri alive until all legal options have been exhausted
In addition to raising many hard questions about our own lives, deaths and morals, the Terri Schiavo case also makes me reconsider my position on federalism.
(Yes, I have a position on federalism and I reconsider it regularly.)
Basically, who gets to rule over what? This case has been bounced back and forth between local, state and federal jurisdiction and most recently, points out a rather large discrepency with most Republicans' view of leaving most things to "the States." With their special bill, the US Congress essentially trespassed on Florida's property. It went in and took the case from one jurisdiction and moved it to another. This really gets me going, especially when they tout the importance of State's rights on other issues which favor their political agenda.
But in this case, I'm finding it difficult to be such a hard-liner when it comes to federalism. Indeed, this one's a tough call. Sometimes the Federal government needs to step in if they don't find a State's goings-on appropriate. Like in Arkansas during Civil Rights.
Then again, I'm skeptical about some federal lawmakers simply using a strictly-Florida case for their own political gain on the national level.
No matter what, though, cases like this will at least keep nerds like me thinking about the Constitution and our judicial system. In addition, there's one thing that the Terri Schiavo case clearly points out, and that's the importance of making a living will.
In case you're wondering what's been happening for the past decade, here's my summary which draws on numerous resources:
1990
-Terri has cardiac arrest, the initial injury leading to her state today
-Court appoints Terri's husband Michael Schiavo as her guardian and the Schindlers (Terri's family) do not object
1993
-After disagreeing over settlement money from a malpractice suit involving Terri, Schindlers try to remove Michael as Terri's guardian but court rejects request
1998
-Michael's first attempt to remove feeding tube, challenged by the Schindlers
2000
-Florida Judge Greer presides over case; orders removal of tube; permits a stay (or delay) of removal until April 20, 2001 in order for the Schindlers' appeals to be given a chance
2001
-Schindlers challenge first ruling, but their appeal is denied in Florida's Second District of Appeal; removal of tube upheld
-Schindlers' attempt of rehearing in Appellate Court denied, as well as their attempt to extend the stay beyond April 20th
-Schindlers petition the Florida Supreme Court to extend stay, FLSC denies review of situation but a Federal District Judge extends the stay until April 23rd so that the Schindlers can appeal to the SCOTUS
-SCOTUS denies writ (doesn't accept the case)
-Per original State Judge Greer's order, the tube is removed on April 24th
-Schindlers file an emergency motion with Greer and a new civil suit against Michael. Two days later, a Federal Circuit Court judge orders the reinsertion of the tube due to this new civil suit
-Now Michael files an emergency motion to remove the tube with the Florida Second District of Appeal, but that court gives it back to original Judge Greer, who, in mid August, finds that the tube be removed again. He sets the date for October 9th in order to give the family time to appeal. That delay is extended indefinitely by the 2DCA (Greer's next-higher court)
2002
-Michael and Schindlers try to work things out ("mediation") but fail to do so
-After months of battling over whether a new set of doctors can review Terri's condition (they eventually do), Shindlers ask for more time to again try to remove Michael as Terri's guardian. But on November 22nd, Judge Greer again rules against them and orders the removal of the tube on January 3, 2003. He then stays the ruling saying the tube must remain until the Schindlers have finished all appeals
2003
-Half a year later in June, the 2DCA affirms Greer's decision to remove the tube. The date is set for October 15th
-The FLSC refuses once again to hear the case
-Schindlers appeal to the Federal courts--with Gov. Bush as a backer--but the Federal judge say's it's not in his jurisdiction
-On October 15th the tube is removed again
-Advocacy groups and such turn to the Florida legislators, who, on October 21st pass "Terri's Law," which allows Gov. Bush to override the courts using a one-time stay. The tube is reinserted that day
-Backed by the ACLU, Michael says the law is unconstitutional. He files a lawsuit in the state court
-Gov. Bush tries to stop Michael's lawsuit, but is denied. Bush appeals to the next higher court and also tries to remove the judge who denied him. That petition is itself denied.
2004
-In early May "Terri's Law" is ruled unconstitutional by the Florida Circuit Court. Bush appeals and Michael petitions that the appeal skips the 2DCA and goes straight to the FLSC. Michael's petition is approved
-On September 23 the FLSC unanimously votes that "Terri's Law" is unconstitutional
-Judge Greer, who was reelected by a land slide, stays the removal of her tube until December 6th
-Gov. Bush appeals the "Terri's Law" FLSC ruling to the SCOTUS but on January 24th, 2005, the SCOTUS denies writ
2005
-The tube is still set for removal, but the date is TBA per Judge Greer's orders that all pending appeals (in other related cases regarding guardianship, etc.) have been completed
-Greer sets removal date of February 23rd, which is the day he's expected to hear the last appeal
-On the 23rd, he stays the removal until the 25th, in order to give him time to issue his official and detailed orders. He says, “absent a stay from the appellate courts, the guardian, Michael Schiavo, shall cause the removal of nutrition and hydration from the ward, Theresa Schiavo, at 1 p.m. on Friday, March 18, 2005." The Schindlers appeal to the 2DCA but last week (March 16th), that court upheld Greer's decision
in the last few days:
-18: The US House Committee on Government Reform tries to intervene by ordering subpoenas requiring Michael and Terri to appear before it. It also asks Greer to stay his decision and asks the FLSC to reverse Greer's decision--both say no. Tube is removed.
-19-20: Congress stays in DC to pass a private bill, which gives the Middle District of Florida jurisdiction over the case. The Bill, S.686 is a special "private bill," not intended for use by future courts or to make 'special' rights for Terri.
-22: Judge Whittemore of that Middle District refused reinsertion of tube. Schindlers appeal to the US Court of Appeals for the 11th Circuit
-Today: A three-judge panel from that Circuit votes 2-1 against reinserting the tube saying that the Schindlers have "failed to demonstrate a substantial case on the merits of any of their claims." The Schindlers are requesting a rehearing by the full 12 justices, hoping to keep Terri alive until all legal options have been exhausted
19.3.05
march sadness
(yes, i thought of that on my own just now)
come on, guys, what the fuck.
i truly wish the catamounts (whatever those are) the best of luck.
i'm a sucker for underdogs, so for the rest of the tourney i'll keep my fingers crossed for the guys in green.
see, i really am a nice person.
come on, guys, what the fuck.
i truly wish the catamounts (whatever those are) the best of luck.
i'm a sucker for underdogs, so for the rest of the tourney i'll keep my fingers crossed for the guys in green.
see, i really am a nice person.
17.3.05
15.3.05
ides
Today is the Ides of March, the day Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BC.
The term "ides" comes from the Latin iduare, "to divide." It refers to the midpoint of a month, which was supposed to coincide with the full moon. The Romans used the term to number a month's days (so the 13th of the month would be "two days before the Ides"), but otherwise there was no particular significance to the date.
The term "ides" comes from the Latin iduare, "to divide." It refers to the midpoint of a month, which was supposed to coincide with the full moon. The Romans used the term to number a month's days (so the 13th of the month would be "two days before the Ides"), but otherwise there was no particular significance to the date.
14.3.05
advertising
OK people. What the fuck?
I've recently seen advertisements for bread and marriage.
Again, that's BREAD and MARRIAGE.
I've recently seen advertisements for bread and marriage.
Again, that's BREAD and MARRIAGE.
7.3.05
monday's thoughts
I was thinking about blogs today and I realized that I might not like them that much.
I mean, there's something about not knowing what someone's up to for a long time, and then spending a good hour catching up in real life.
The blog kind of takes the magic out of long-distant friendships.
Plus, who gives a crap what I'm talking about anyway??
________________________________________________
that's about it.
Oh, and I got a huge tax refund. That was cool.
Oh, and the Nats are 500. Is that the right term?
Oh, and "irregardless" is now in the dictionary. Touche.
Oh, and I got accepted into the DC Teaching Fellows and was also offered a docket clerk job at the DC courts but turned both down in order to move to San Francisco in January to help my friend/former radio producer-boss start a non profit radio production company and launch a new radio show which I have no idea will be successful (I think it will) but it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity so I couldn't pass it up and I know I want to be a teacher but this came up at the last minute and will only enrich my life, thus making me a better teacher in the future so I guess I'm kind of nervous having turned down such a good opportunity but in the end I think it will all work out and I'm happy with my decision and the chance to create something from scratch and be a part of such an innovative idea so we'll see how it goes, huh, and until then I'll be a receptionist but with a higher purpose always with a higher purpose and that's the way my life is feeling right now--on the up and up--i'm gonna go ahead and run in the marine corps marathon in october i decided that i couldn't be inactive anymore so i said fuck it i miss running and that's that because there's something about running that i couldn't leave, even after two years of not running i still felt a void oh and i think spring is here and i've never felt so excited for spring, for the warmth, for the life which i feel right now and i think i'm done with both this post-grad funk and this funky post peace out and have a marvellous day
I mean, there's something about not knowing what someone's up to for a long time, and then spending a good hour catching up in real life.
The blog kind of takes the magic out of long-distant friendships.
Plus, who gives a crap what I'm talking about anyway??
________________________________________________
that's about it.
Oh, and I got a huge tax refund. That was cool.
Oh, and the Nats are 500. Is that the right term?
Oh, and "irregardless" is now in the dictionary. Touche.
Oh, and I got accepted into the DC Teaching Fellows and was also offered a docket clerk job at the DC courts but turned both down in order to move to San Francisco in January to help my friend/former radio producer-boss start a non profit radio production company and launch a new radio show which I have no idea will be successful (I think it will) but it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity so I couldn't pass it up and I know I want to be a teacher but this came up at the last minute and will only enrich my life, thus making me a better teacher in the future so I guess I'm kind of nervous having turned down such a good opportunity but in the end I think it will all work out and I'm happy with my decision and the chance to create something from scratch and be a part of such an innovative idea so we'll see how it goes, huh, and until then I'll be a receptionist but with a higher purpose always with a higher purpose and that's the way my life is feeling right now--on the up and up--i'm gonna go ahead and run in the marine corps marathon in october i decided that i couldn't be inactive anymore so i said fuck it i miss running and that's that because there's something about running that i couldn't leave, even after two years of not running i still felt a void oh and i think spring is here and i've never felt so excited for spring, for the warmth, for the life which i feel right now and i think i'm done with both this post-grad funk and this funky post peace out and have a marvellous day
4.3.05
aural acrostics
fun, narcissisctic and pointless, but isn't that what a blog is anyway?
my version of this game, using my favorite songs:
everyday is a winding road (sheryl crow)
make you feel that way (blackalicious) tied with mad mission by patty griffin & metaphysical by handsome boy modeling school
in the aeroplane over the sea (neutral milk hotel)
least complicated (ig)
iowa (dar williams)
estoy aqui (shakira)
glass house (ani)
recommendation (mirah)
all is full of love (bjork) tied with anarchy in the uk by sex pistols & the all things considered theme song
'cello song (nick drake)
eine kleine nachtmusik (mozart)
concrete schoolyard (j5)
obvious child (paul simon) tied with o fortuna! by carl orff and ode to joy by beethoven
la la love you (pixies)
everytime you say goodbye (alison krauss & union station)
my version of this game, using my favorite songs:
everyday is a winding road (sheryl crow)
make you feel that way (blackalicious) tied with mad mission by patty griffin & metaphysical by handsome boy modeling school
in the aeroplane over the sea (neutral milk hotel)
least complicated (ig)
iowa (dar williams)
estoy aqui (shakira)
glass house (ani)
recommendation (mirah)
all is full of love (bjork) tied with anarchy in the uk by sex pistols & the all things considered theme song
'cello song (nick drake)
eine kleine nachtmusik (mozart)
concrete schoolyard (j5)
obvious child (paul simon) tied with o fortuna! by carl orff and ode to joy by beethoven
la la love you (pixies)
everytime you say goodbye (alison krauss & union station)
3.3.05
mi amigos
I was just about to post a comment in response to Spooner's recent post "Kid Fears" (by the way, you get a Ping hat if you know the reference), but I thought it might be better if I reply publically right here so that you all can learn yet something else about me.
Oh, what fun.
I just wrote a long, droning post, but then deleted it.
Basically what I want to say is that I learned the concept of friendship from my parents (who didn't ever have those close family friends next door) and the Army (emilie meet so-and-so. Become good friends with them. Now say bye because we're moving!)
So in conclusion, sorry for being such a weird friend sometimes and you're welcome for being such a good friend at other times.
Oh, what fun.
I just wrote a long, droning post, but then deleted it.
Basically what I want to say is that I learned the concept of friendship from my parents (who didn't ever have those close family friends next door) and the Army (emilie meet so-and-so. Become good friends with them. Now say bye because we're moving!)
So in conclusion, sorry for being such a weird friend sometimes and you're welcome for being such a good friend at other times.
1.3.05
year of the rooster
There's definitely something I've realized during this weird post-coll life of mine, and that's that I'm sometimes a big wuss. Do you feel that, too? Or is it just me? Oh, you didn't mean that.
Maybe it's because, up until graduation, I had always had a set goal or achievement for which to strive. Or maybe not and I should just stop rambling.
Anyway, though I feel like I'm finally coming out of this abysmal state, there are still moments where I just feel shaken. I feel like the core of my being is jeopardized when I discover/realize something new about myself that scares the shit out of me.
Yesterday this happened at Bikram yoga.
BTW, Bikram yoga is like this suped-up, LA, powershake version of yoga--which may or may not completely contradict the idea of yoga itself. It was invented by a master yogi, C. Bikram, who thinks (yes, he's still alive, lives in LA and teaches the Hollywood elite his practice) that we Westerners need a little more spice in our paid relaxation sessions.
That "spice" is in the form of a 120-degree room.
I'm not going to go into much detail, but yesterday I fell out of my Bikram session. Granted, it was only the second time I've ever attended, but everytime I moved a muscle I felt like I was going to pass out. I couldn't hold my arms up anymore in whatthehellasana.
Also, my face felt on the verge of exploding.
And then, it did explode!
Crying, I rolled up my mat and tried to leave the room without stepping on any of the sweaty bodies between me and the fresh, cool air of wussdom.
It's kind of funny to me today that I broke down in a yoga session. But at the time, it really shook me. I just couldn't do it and my body was laughing at me.
"Look at you, you wuss. You used to run 80 miles a week. You used to go to UNC soccer camp in the sweltering NC heat. You used to have a strong mind and you used to believe in yourself. Ha."
Now, I know yoga is about not competing, not pressuring yourself and, in fact, these ideas were not what was going on in my mind-a-roo. What was going through my mind was the fact that I was hit with the cold, hard truth about my current life. Right there in a room of sweaty people in Tree Pose.
What that truth was is that I'm not who I used to be--mentally, physically, vegetarianally. I know I've had a rough-and-tumble kind of past two years, marked by new physical limitations and slips of meat eating. Also self-doubt, confusion, occupational frustration and automotive transmission.
But yesterday I came to terms with all that. I accepted it all for what it was and cried like the little baby I've become.
Then I went ahead and bought a membership pass, cause I'm going to kick ass at next week's session, bitches!
Maybe it's because, up until graduation, I had always had a set goal or achievement for which to strive. Or maybe not and I should just stop rambling.
Anyway, though I feel like I'm finally coming out of this abysmal state, there are still moments where I just feel shaken. I feel like the core of my being is jeopardized when I discover/realize something new about myself that scares the shit out of me.
Yesterday this happened at Bikram yoga.
BTW, Bikram yoga is like this suped-up, LA, powershake version of yoga--which may or may not completely contradict the idea of yoga itself. It was invented by a master yogi, C. Bikram, who thinks (yes, he's still alive, lives in LA and teaches the Hollywood elite his practice) that we Westerners need a little more spice in our paid relaxation sessions.
That "spice" is in the form of a 120-degree room.
I'm not going to go into much detail, but yesterday I fell out of my Bikram session. Granted, it was only the second time I've ever attended, but everytime I moved a muscle I felt like I was going to pass out. I couldn't hold my arms up anymore in whatthehellasana.
Also, my face felt on the verge of exploding.
And then, it did explode!
Crying, I rolled up my mat and tried to leave the room without stepping on any of the sweaty bodies between me and the fresh, cool air of wussdom.
It's kind of funny to me today that I broke down in a yoga session. But at the time, it really shook me. I just couldn't do it and my body was laughing at me.
"Look at you, you wuss. You used to run 80 miles a week. You used to go to UNC soccer camp in the sweltering NC heat. You used to have a strong mind and you used to believe in yourself. Ha."
Now, I know yoga is about not competing, not pressuring yourself and, in fact, these ideas were not what was going on in my mind-a-roo. What was going through my mind was the fact that I was hit with the cold, hard truth about my current life. Right there in a room of sweaty people in Tree Pose.
What that truth was is that I'm not who I used to be--mentally, physically, vegetarianally. I know I've had a rough-and-tumble kind of past two years, marked by new physical limitations and slips of meat eating. Also self-doubt, confusion, occupational frustration and automotive transmission.
But yesterday I came to terms with all that. I accepted it all for what it was and cried like the little baby I've become.
Then I went ahead and bought a membership pass, cause I'm going to kick ass at next week's session, bitches!
28.2.05
blogs, the complete irreverance thereof
How did it come to this?
How did the blog become such a contentious place?
I am weeping like a ill-wrapped wound.
Maybe it's cause we bloggers are, by nature, abrasive and crispy characters. Who else would come up with some idea, think it's good enough to write about, and then get offended when flaws are pointed out by other bloggers? Yet we don't think twice when we're the offenders.
Somehow, this has crossed the fun line. You know, the fun line.
I propose a cyber-space peace treaty, whereas you and I don't feel the need to say how dumb the other person's blog is, or how it's false, or how my topics and postings aren't that great (when compared to yours), or how you erroneously spelled stegosaurus.
Unless this actually is fun to you.
Who's with me?
If this is silly to you--or simply not your bag--just stop navigating to my page and we'll leave it at that.
But I'm done, cause this is stupid.
And my feewings are hurt.
How did the blog become such a contentious place?
I am weeping like a ill-wrapped wound.
Maybe it's cause we bloggers are, by nature, abrasive and crispy characters. Who else would come up with some idea, think it's good enough to write about, and then get offended when flaws are pointed out by other bloggers? Yet we don't think twice when we're the offenders.
Somehow, this has crossed the fun line. You know, the fun line.
I propose a cyber-space peace treaty, whereas you and I don't feel the need to say how dumb the other person's blog is, or how it's false, or how my topics and postings aren't that great (when compared to yours), or how you erroneously spelled stegosaurus.
Unless this actually is fun to you.
Who's with me?
If this is silly to you--or simply not your bag--just stop navigating to my page and we'll leave it at that.
But I'm done, cause this is stupid.
And my feewings are hurt.
25.2.05
ugg-life
Today I spent about four (4) hours researching sheepskin boots. (Yeah, and I got paid for it, too.) This kind of detailed and obsessive shopping is not uncommon for the female gender, as recently demonstrated by Mer Bear. And it's certainly not uncalled for given the fact that there are literally ba-gillions of sheepskin footwear out there! Luckily I had somewhere to start; a solid foundation upon which I could rely; something we used to refer to in 'Nam as an "OBJ," or Objective Rally Point:
the Ugg boot.
I once was blessed with the opportunity to slip my feet into these soft, woolen foot-wombs (OK, Mer Bear's rip-off Uggs, but still...) and was immediately returned to my fetal days. The only thing missing was the uterine fibroids that are so popular now. Nonetheless, I wanted to stay there. I feared the time when I had to return this furry footwear to my dumb friend Meredith who didn't need them anyway so she should just give them to me.
We had had such a good time together, me and the boots. We made love in the meadow. We milked the cows and darned the chickens. We even bought a Sealy Posturpedic mattress together!
But there was Merideath, glaring at me as I lay on the floor in a suffering ball.
"Gimme back," she demanded, the spittle forming in the chapped cracks of her thin little lips.
As I slowly pulled my feet back out into this cruel, cold world, a single salty tear trickled down my sad face, gently bounced off my pouting lower lip, and splashed onto her Pergo floor with echoing poignancy.
"Here," I weeped.
"They weren't even real Uggs anyway."
So that was last weekend, biotch, and I'm all better now because today I ordered my own sheepskin boots. I spent four (4) hours researching them. Oops. Did I already say that? I don't care because I don't feel like backspacing that much today. (Today's an "Enter" day). There was a lot of material to go through, let me tell you.
Not only do we have Ugg brand, which offers a copious selection of traditional and cutting-edge Australian-style footwear and handbags for men, women and children, but we also have other brands with an equally-wide variety. And, of course, a lot of really ugly shit I would never be caught dead in. As you can see so far, four hours is the minimum I should have spent given all this data.
At first I had my heart set on the Classic line by Ugg. You've probably seen this sand-colored boot on many a fashionista in your local viewing area. With little regard to trend, I really just like this boot's comfort, durability and classic look. You've got a 100% genuine sheepskin-leather upper which can resist the wear and tear of metropolitan life. With the Classic Short, you'll get 8" of above-ankle warmth for even the chilliest day.
Or not! These boots are great for even summer weather, as the sheepskin interior is a natural and dually-functioning insulator. It's completely up to you! And me, too, which is why they tickled my fancy so.
Whilst researching the Classic line, I came across its secondary line called the "Classic Essential" line. I was definitely not ready for sub-stratum shoe research, but I took it like a big girl and looked at the features. Not only did the Classic Essential line offer the classicness of the Classic line, but also added essentiality to it! This essentialness is in the form of a more rugged, durable and grippy sole. Before I just wanted classicity, but now I needed this newfound essentialitism.
I was on a shoe safari and that new fax was just gonna have to be patient. OK? Cause I'm busy.
I spent hours on the phone. I called Arizona, North Carolina and probably India looking for the Classic Essential Short in Sand in a size 7, but to no avail:
"We only have that color in a size 10."
"We only have a size 7 left in Baby Pink or Baby Blue."
"I can offer you the Essential Tall in Sand. Would you like me to offer that to you? Oh, OK. Bye."
I decided that I didn't need a more rugged sole. A normal sole was good enough. I mean, I don't live in the outback or anything, right? Right? Shut up.
Back to Plan A: The Classic line. But again, no luck.
"We are completely sold out in Sand. Would you like Chestnut?"
"Unfortunately we won't be getting another shipment in until April."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know who Meredith Andrews is."
Dear God, are you there? It's me, Emilie. If you help me find a pair of comfortable Australian-style, mid-length, sand-colored bootsies, I will...well, I can't think of anything right now but I'll try to think of something good to do soon.
That must've done the trick because Voila! The nice lady at shoesurfing.com suggested another just-as-cool brand of said footwear: Koolaburra. I did the research and found them to be much more suitable for my needs. Like, way more suitable than Uggs. See:
Plan A
Plan B
Plan Meant-to-Be
I like them way better. They will certainly last me for the rest of my life. I am so happy and my mind hearkens back to that day last weekend when I lived a day in the life of Boot Bliss.
But the best part is that by choosing Koolaburra, I've avoided the Ugg bandwagon and have retained my unique sense of style.
Not to mention my original personality to boot!
the Ugg boot.
I once was blessed with the opportunity to slip my feet into these soft, woolen foot-wombs (OK, Mer Bear's rip-off Uggs, but still...) and was immediately returned to my fetal days. The only thing missing was the uterine fibroids that are so popular now. Nonetheless, I wanted to stay there. I feared the time when I had to return this furry footwear to my dumb friend Meredith who didn't need them anyway so she should just give them to me.
We had had such a good time together, me and the boots. We made love in the meadow. We milked the cows and darned the chickens. We even bought a Sealy Posturpedic mattress together!
But there was Merideath, glaring at me as I lay on the floor in a suffering ball.
"Gimme back," she demanded, the spittle forming in the chapped cracks of her thin little lips.
As I slowly pulled my feet back out into this cruel, cold world, a single salty tear trickled down my sad face, gently bounced off my pouting lower lip, and splashed onto her Pergo floor with echoing poignancy.
"Here," I weeped.
"They weren't even real Uggs anyway."
So that was last weekend, biotch, and I'm all better now because today I ordered my own sheepskin boots. I spent four (4) hours researching them. Oops. Did I already say that? I don't care because I don't feel like backspacing that much today. (Today's an "Enter" day). There was a lot of material to go through, let me tell you.
Not only do we have Ugg brand, which offers a copious selection of traditional and cutting-edge Australian-style footwear and handbags for men, women and children, but we also have other brands with an equally-wide variety. And, of course, a lot of really ugly shit I would never be caught dead in. As you can see so far, four hours is the minimum I should have spent given all this data.
At first I had my heart set on the Classic line by Ugg. You've probably seen this sand-colored boot on many a fashionista in your local viewing area. With little regard to trend, I really just like this boot's comfort, durability and classic look. You've got a 100% genuine sheepskin-leather upper which can resist the wear and tear of metropolitan life. With the Classic Short, you'll get 8" of above-ankle warmth for even the chilliest day.
Or not! These boots are great for even summer weather, as the sheepskin interior is a natural and dually-functioning insulator. It's completely up to you! And me, too, which is why they tickled my fancy so.
Whilst researching the Classic line, I came across its secondary line called the "Classic Essential" line. I was definitely not ready for sub-stratum shoe research, but I took it like a big girl and looked at the features. Not only did the Classic Essential line offer the classicness of the Classic line, but also added essentiality to it! This essentialness is in the form of a more rugged, durable and grippy sole. Before I just wanted classicity, but now I needed this newfound essentialitism.
I was on a shoe safari and that new fax was just gonna have to be patient. OK? Cause I'm busy.
I spent hours on the phone. I called Arizona, North Carolina and probably India looking for the Classic Essential Short in Sand in a size 7, but to no avail:
"We only have that color in a size 10."
"We only have a size 7 left in Baby Pink or Baby Blue."
"I can offer you the Essential Tall in Sand. Would you like me to offer that to you? Oh, OK. Bye."
I decided that I didn't need a more rugged sole. A normal sole was good enough. I mean, I don't live in the outback or anything, right? Right? Shut up.
Back to Plan A: The Classic line. But again, no luck.
"We are completely sold out in Sand. Would you like Chestnut?"
"Unfortunately we won't be getting another shipment in until April."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know who Meredith Andrews is."
Dear God, are you there? It's me, Emilie. If you help me find a pair of comfortable Australian-style, mid-length, sand-colored bootsies, I will...well, I can't think of anything right now but I'll try to think of something good to do soon.
That must've done the trick because Voila! The nice lady at shoesurfing.com suggested another just-as-cool brand of said footwear: Koolaburra. I did the research and found them to be much more suitable for my needs. Like, way more suitable than Uggs. See:
Plan A
Plan B
Plan Meant-to-Be
I like them way better. They will certainly last me for the rest of my life. I am so happy and my mind hearkens back to that day last weekend when I lived a day in the life of Boot Bliss.
But the best part is that by choosing Koolaburra, I've avoided the Ugg bandwagon and have retained my unique sense of style.
Not to mention my original personality to boot!
22.2.05
eating
As I mentioned earlier, I'm currently only using chopsticks to eat. So far it has made eating way more fun and has, along with a few other recent things, made me think a lot about eating and what exactly it means to me.
Eating is weird. Not the fact that we eat, but the ways in which and the reasons for which we do so.
We eat alone, with friends and family, with lovers, while reading, while being entertained, while talking, while focusing, while thinking, while having sex. OK, maybe that's only George Costanza.
And we eat because we are sad, are lonely, are happy, feel hungry (or at least we think we are), are starving, are full, are mad, need comfort, are bored (+ many more).
To me, this is starting to seem like way too many reasons to eat! I, for one, feel a strong desire to break all this down and find the one true reason for my rumination.
I recently read (about) a book called "French Women Don't Get Fat." The author, French, but now living in America, talks (albeit pretentiously) about American gastronomy compared to that of her country. Her main point is to answer the question "why don't French women get fat?"
It's a good question since French food is rich, fatty and indulgent. Her answer hinges on the fact that eating in France is the joy d'vivre.
French people are always looking forward to their next meal, there's no snacking, and when they do eat, they are "eating with all five senses." In a sense, they are more aware and present when they eat. Additionally, they are eating for the simple reason that they are alive.
I observed this first hand when I worked at the not-so-pleasant, but authentically French, Bistro d'OC.
The owner family--Chef Bernard Grenier, Manager Benoit Grenier and their respective wives--would sit down to this huge lunch after every shift. Lots of baguettes, creamy meat dishes and lavish desserts supplemented by wine and espresso was their daily fare; yet they were lean and healthy looking. Of course, I really was starving and what they made me was some crappy butter-sausage-egg-poop casserole which I ate in the back of the restaurant in the dark by myself.
But still, I witnessed how at least they appreciated food and how their personalities changed when they were eating. (Most of the day was spent referring to customers as "fucking assholes" until it was time for their family lunch.)
Yeah, it was like that meal was all that mattered in the entire world. I can't believe I have to eat this crap.
So why weren't the Greniers severely obese? The author of the book talks about the logistics of this lifestyle. For starters, completely immersing yourself in a rich and tasteful meal will mean you will eat less than you would if you ate an oversized, bland meal while watching TV. Also the appreciation of every taste, smell and texture heightens your awareness so you will be both sentient and satiated: no more eating beyond the full point.
My new misguided Lent-challenge is also helping me be more aware of what's on my plate: rather than stabbing at my food like it's some wild beast, I must precisely tweeze it from its source, plucking it gently from where it lay and placing it directly in my mouth.
Mmmm. That bite was good. Can't wait for the next one!
And so, kind bloggers, the point of this palatial post is this:
Experiencing (from a peasant's point of view) the Greniers' meals, reading about that book and now simply using these chopsticks is starting to change my outlook on eating.
I think it will be easy, now that I've digested (I know) all this information, to figure out why it is that I eat.
One thing will never go, though. Chipotle burritos. But at least I'll use chopsticks.
Eating is weird. Not the fact that we eat, but the ways in which and the reasons for which we do so.
We eat alone, with friends and family, with lovers, while reading, while being entertained, while talking, while focusing, while thinking, while having sex. OK, maybe that's only George Costanza.
And we eat because we are sad, are lonely, are happy, feel hungry (or at least we think we are), are starving, are full, are mad, need comfort, are bored (+ many more).
To me, this is starting to seem like way too many reasons to eat! I, for one, feel a strong desire to break all this down and find the one true reason for my rumination.
I recently read (about) a book called "French Women Don't Get Fat." The author, French, but now living in America, talks (albeit pretentiously) about American gastronomy compared to that of her country. Her main point is to answer the question "why don't French women get fat?"
It's a good question since French food is rich, fatty and indulgent. Her answer hinges on the fact that eating in France is the joy d'vivre.
French people are always looking forward to their next meal, there's no snacking, and when they do eat, they are "eating with all five senses." In a sense, they are more aware and present when they eat. Additionally, they are eating for the simple reason that they are alive.
I observed this first hand when I worked at the not-so-pleasant, but authentically French, Bistro d'OC.
The owner family--Chef Bernard Grenier, Manager Benoit Grenier and their respective wives--would sit down to this huge lunch after every shift. Lots of baguettes, creamy meat dishes and lavish desserts supplemented by wine and espresso was their daily fare; yet they were lean and healthy looking. Of course, I really was starving and what they made me was some crappy butter-sausage-egg-poop casserole which I ate in the back of the restaurant in the dark by myself.
But still, I witnessed how at least they appreciated food and how their personalities changed when they were eating. (Most of the day was spent referring to customers as "fucking assholes" until it was time for their family lunch.)
Yeah, it was like that meal was all that mattered in the entire world. I can't believe I have to eat this crap.
So why weren't the Greniers severely obese? The author of the book talks about the logistics of this lifestyle. For starters, completely immersing yourself in a rich and tasteful meal will mean you will eat less than you would if you ate an oversized, bland meal while watching TV. Also the appreciation of every taste, smell and texture heightens your awareness so you will be both sentient and satiated: no more eating beyond the full point.
My new misguided Lent-challenge is also helping me be more aware of what's on my plate: rather than stabbing at my food like it's some wild beast, I must precisely tweeze it from its source, plucking it gently from where it lay and placing it directly in my mouth.
Mmmm. That bite was good. Can't wait for the next one!
And so, kind bloggers, the point of this palatial post is this:
Experiencing (from a peasant's point of view) the Greniers' meals, reading about that book and now simply using these chopsticks is starting to change my outlook on eating.
I think it will be easy, now that I've digested (I know) all this information, to figure out why it is that I eat.
One thing will never go, though. Chipotle burritos. But at least I'll use chopsticks.
usa
In light of the recent and irrelevant President's Day, I have some observations about stuff:
-This morning on the bus I take from the Metro station, the stop-indication mechanism was broken (you know, the cord-and-chime thingy). My bus driver had displayed a hand-written sign that read:
"Bell don't work. Plese call stop out."
-Apparently Britain realizes that either it needs to find another source of soldiers or that people are equally capable of serving in the military. Those canvas pants are fabulous!
-Meanwhile, our (mostly-straight) military isn't exactly rakeing in the blue ribbons.
Re: Afghanistan. I know, I know, there are good things being done (like Molly's friend Trish who helped start an Afghan youth soccer league!) and the place has come along way since it was ruled by Soviets and then terrorists. But is 173rd out of 178 really acceptable after spending billions of dollars and hundreds of lives? Mmhmmm.
-This morning on the bus I take from the Metro station, the stop-indication mechanism was broken (you know, the cord-and-chime thingy). My bus driver had displayed a hand-written sign that read:
"Bell don't work. Plese call stop out."
-Apparently Britain realizes that either it needs to find another source of soldiers or that people are equally capable of serving in the military. Those canvas pants are fabulous!
-Meanwhile, our (mostly-straight) military isn't exactly rakeing in the blue ribbons.
Re: Afghanistan. I know, I know, there are good things being done (like Molly's friend Trish who helped start an Afghan youth soccer league!) and the place has come along way since it was ruled by Soviets and then terrorists. But is 173rd out of 178 really acceptable after spending billions of dollars and hundreds of lives? Mmhmmm.
18.2.05
lent(s)
During my senior year of college I successfully completed lent*. My decision to participate in this self-deprivatory, silly season can be attributed to my overly-Christian friend Becca, who urged me to try giving up the use of swear words.
My first response was "fuck no!"
But after giving it some thought, I decided to throw my hat in the Proverbial religious ring. In fact, I then decided not only to give up swearing, but also refined sugar and instant messaging**.
It was tough at first--I had a bad habit of going to the campus bookstore, buying a whole pack of Mambo candy, and devouring it in under 5 minutes. And as anyone in college knows, deleting IM from one's social life can be both difficult and dangerous.
But I did it and it felt good.
Last year I saw The Passion of The Christ on Ash Wednesday. Needless to say, that in itself was like 40 days of hell.
Although it's a little late, I've decided to "do" Lent this year. I wish I could give up something I'm addicted to, like my morning cup of coffee, reality TV, or going to church, but that would be so cliche. And also, like, stupid.
Instead, I'm giving up Occidental eating utensils. From now on it's either my hands or chopsticks.
See you in April, fork & spoon...
or maybe not.
*Thanks in part to Meghan Riley, who also gave up swearing and who, with me, developed a list of substitute phrases such as "dag nab it" and "oh, fiddlesticks."
**I thought about drinking, too. So I did.
My first response was "fuck no!"
But after giving it some thought, I decided to throw my hat in the Proverbial religious ring. In fact, I then decided not only to give up swearing, but also refined sugar and instant messaging**.
It was tough at first--I had a bad habit of going to the campus bookstore, buying a whole pack of Mambo candy, and devouring it in under 5 minutes. And as anyone in college knows, deleting IM from one's social life can be both difficult and dangerous.
But I did it and it felt good.
Last year I saw The Passion of The Christ on Ash Wednesday. Needless to say, that in itself was like 40 days of hell.
Although it's a little late, I've decided to "do" Lent this year. I wish I could give up something I'm addicted to, like my morning cup of coffee, reality TV, or going to church, but that would be so cliche. And also, like, stupid.
Instead, I'm giving up Occidental eating utensils. From now on it's either my hands or chopsticks.
See you in April, fork & spoon...
or maybe not.
*Thanks in part to Meghan Riley, who also gave up swearing and who, with me, developed a list of substitute phrases such as "dag nab it" and "oh, fiddlesticks."
**I thought about drinking, too. So I did.
16.2.05
reality
Unexpectedly, I've become a huge fan of reality TV. This is abnormal because 1) I don't even get cable, so I have to find other places to view it and B) I used to think it was a crock of crap.
But I'm really starting to see the beauty in it:
Besides offering me an escape from this horribly wretched life of mine (and I mean wretched--I mean, come on. I once had five (5!) knee surgeries and in addition to that, my garbage disposal was recently malfunctioning), reality TV helps me learn about how to be a better human being. It teaches me life skills such as patience, critical thinking, confident decision making and effective communication.
For example, if I am one day in a dark, board-like room with a famous rich guy who's intensely questioning me, I know not to whine or admit that I did a "bad job" because then I could be fired
Or if I am a gay guy dating an on-the-go flight attendant, I should really be upfront about that relationship with any other guy I might meet/dance with/sleep with from the local Gay Guy Hooking Up Club!
Or if I'm racing around the world with my piss-ant boyfriend to win a million dollars and we get stuck in a slow moving tuk tuk (Ethiopian taxi-rickshaw), then I shouldn't lose my cool when a herd of goats crosses the road and/or the driver takes us to the wrong field in order to slather mud on the side of huts like the natives do!
Or if I sing like a stopped up toilet, I shouldn't be disappointed when a mysteriously-famous, yet dick-headed talent judge calls me "absolutely horrid"!
Or if I'm walking down the street in the dark and some homeless guy comes up to me and begs me to give him money and I say I don't have any money and he says, "can't you just go get some" and I think about it and decide, OK, I'll go get some. Come with me to that convenience store to go get some money so we go and when we get there I realize how dumb that was of me to do that so I end up retracting my offer and he gets sad and mad and then I have a disappointed and angry bum on my hands and oh wait, that actually did happen
But I'm really starting to see the beauty in it:
Besides offering me an escape from this horribly wretched life of mine (and I mean wretched--I mean, come on. I once had five (5!) knee surgeries and in addition to that, my garbage disposal was recently malfunctioning), reality TV helps me learn about how to be a better human being. It teaches me life skills such as patience, critical thinking, confident decision making and effective communication.
For example, if I am one day in a dark, board-like room with a famous rich guy who's intensely questioning me, I know not to whine or admit that I did a "bad job" because then I could be fired
Or if I am a gay guy dating an on-the-go flight attendant, I should really be upfront about that relationship with any other guy I might meet/dance with/sleep with from the local Gay Guy Hooking Up Club!
Or if I'm racing around the world with my piss-ant boyfriend to win a million dollars and we get stuck in a slow moving tuk tuk (Ethiopian taxi-rickshaw), then I shouldn't lose my cool when a herd of goats crosses the road and/or the driver takes us to the wrong field in order to slather mud on the side of huts like the natives do!
Or if I sing like a stopped up toilet, I shouldn't be disappointed when a mysteriously-famous, yet dick-headed talent judge calls me "absolutely horrid"!
Or if I'm walking down the street in the dark and some homeless guy comes up to me and begs me to give him money and I say I don't have any money and he says, "can't you just go get some" and I think about it and decide, OK, I'll go get some. Come with me to that convenience store to go get some money so we go and when we get there I realize how dumb that was of me to do that so I end up retracting my offer and he gets sad and mad and then I have a disappointed and angry bum on my hands and oh wait, that actually did happen
11.2.05
miscellaneous
-Mischa Barton is hot! (and yes, I would say that anyway)
-I might move to the Bay Area in the fall to help my friend start a non-profit organization and a radio show. What the hell? I was just about to be either a docket clerk or a DC teaching fellow!
-I want to become a Nationals fan but I don't support the current stadium project plan. I also don't like the "W" logo.
-I wonder if these vitamins are still potent. It says "fresh until Aug 2004"--but vitamins are really expensive and this bottle is still more than half full.
-Today I'm going to try the daily crossword on the "master skill level" setting.
-Why don't my bosses ever invite me to lunch? I look pretty today. They went to McCormick & Schmicks.
-On a similar note, I wonder if my bosses will notice a missing portion of their Belvedere vodka.
-I believe in myself today, but don't know what to do about it.
-I might move to the Bay Area in the fall to help my friend start a non-profit organization and a radio show. What the hell? I was just about to be either a docket clerk or a DC teaching fellow!
-I want to become a Nationals fan but I don't support the current stadium project plan. I also don't like the "W" logo.
-I wonder if these vitamins are still potent. It says "fresh until Aug 2004"--but vitamins are really expensive and this bottle is still more than half full.
-Today I'm going to try the daily crossword on the "master skill level" setting.
-Why don't my bosses ever invite me to lunch? I look pretty today. They went to McCormick & Schmicks.
-On a similar note, I wonder if my bosses will notice a missing portion of their Belvedere vodka.
-I believe in myself today, but don't know what to do about it.
7.2.05
Cheers to BPD!
A few weeks ago I kicked off a "series" of posts titled
"Cheers to _____!"
As the second posting under this title, I present to you Bradley Paul Decker.
If ye sippith alcohol this fine February day, do so in honor of this delightful human you see above who today turns an irreverant 24-years-old.
Brad, "Paul P. Paul" (thanks, Kelly) or "Cranky Mickshaw" as, well, only I like to call him, has been one of my best friends since the day I hated him on a high school ski trip to Killington, VT. Unnecessary hatred? You be the judge:
-You've been skiing all weekend and are heading back home that Sunday evening on a fully-packed coach bus. The bus stops at a rest stop and you exit for fresh air, bathroom relief and a good stretch. You get back on the bus and find that this smarmy character has taken your seat. Your attempts at politeness fail in fructification. (Also "you" are actually me, Emilie, who has a hard time accepting the "move your feet, lose your seat" rule, which you think doesn't apply to you...ever.) Disgruntled, you refuse to laugh it off and find the only seat left (indeed, this shifting has caused a domino-effect with regards to bus seating) is in the back with people you don't know/don't really want to get to know. You hate Brad for the rest of the trip/week/month.
Boom! A friendship is born!
During the next 3 years of high school, Brad and I tried "to go out," but I think we both realized we'd rather stay in and make fun of stuff--stuff usually being myself. Upon graduation from HS he kicked me in the already-hurty knee and still refuses to apologize to this day.
In college I missed Brad a lot because there's really noone else like Brad in the world. Or at least at Syracuse. But there are a significant amount of people at Syracuse, so that hyperbole is applicable.
After college we lived far apart--me wherever and him in DC. At first he worked for an angry Indian-American from Texas named Soobash who wore a ten-gallon hat and told him to do unreasonable things. I worked somewhere doing nothing important. Now he works at the Federal Elections Commission telling people to do unreasonable things.
I still work somewhere doing nothing important.
My friendship with Brad has become even stronger as I currently live around the block from him, which allows me access to this character in a pretty much unlimited manner. I frequent his abode in order to converse, drink good beer and watch mindless television. Except for The OC, which is not mindless at all and, in fact, made me cry last episode. As the tears streamed down my face, I asked Brad to get me a tissue. His reply:
"They're over there." He then told me he wouldn't get me tissues unless my tears were "legitimate."
Oops. I hope I'm not painting a negative picture of this wonderful man.
Good stuff about Brad:
-He's smart
-He's liberal
-He's unique
-He's funny
-He likes stuff
-Come on, don't make me go on forever
Also he just read the 1260-pager, "The Decine and Fall of the Roman Empire."
Have you done that??? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Cheers to Brad Decker!
"Cheers to _____!"
As the second posting under this title, I present to you Bradley Paul Decker.
If ye sippith alcohol this fine February day, do so in honor of this delightful human you see above who today turns an irreverant 24-years-old.
Brad, "Paul P. Paul" (thanks, Kelly) or "Cranky Mickshaw" as, well, only I like to call him, has been one of my best friends since the day I hated him on a high school ski trip to Killington, VT. Unnecessary hatred? You be the judge:
-You've been skiing all weekend and are heading back home that Sunday evening on a fully-packed coach bus. The bus stops at a rest stop and you exit for fresh air, bathroom relief and a good stretch. You get back on the bus and find that this smarmy character has taken your seat. Your attempts at politeness fail in fructification. (Also "you" are actually me, Emilie, who has a hard time accepting the "move your feet, lose your seat" rule, which you think doesn't apply to you...ever.) Disgruntled, you refuse to laugh it off and find the only seat left (indeed, this shifting has caused a domino-effect with regards to bus seating) is in the back with people you don't know/don't really want to get to know. You hate Brad for the rest of the trip/week/month.
Boom! A friendship is born!
During the next 3 years of high school, Brad and I tried "to go out," but I think we both realized we'd rather stay in and make fun of stuff--stuff usually being myself. Upon graduation from HS he kicked me in the already-hurty knee and still refuses to apologize to this day.
In college I missed Brad a lot because there's really noone else like Brad in the world. Or at least at Syracuse. But there are a significant amount of people at Syracuse, so that hyperbole is applicable.
After college we lived far apart--me wherever and him in DC. At first he worked for an angry Indian-American from Texas named Soobash who wore a ten-gallon hat and told him to do unreasonable things. I worked somewhere doing nothing important. Now he works at the Federal Elections Commission telling people to do unreasonable things.
I still work somewhere doing nothing important.
My friendship with Brad has become even stronger as I currently live around the block from him, which allows me access to this character in a pretty much unlimited manner. I frequent his abode in order to converse, drink good beer and watch mindless television. Except for The OC, which is not mindless at all and, in fact, made me cry last episode. As the tears streamed down my face, I asked Brad to get me a tissue. His reply:
"They're over there." He then told me he wouldn't get me tissues unless my tears were "legitimate."
Oops. I hope I'm not painting a negative picture of this wonderful man.
Good stuff about Brad:
-He's smart
-He's liberal
-He's unique
-He's funny
-He likes stuff
-Come on, don't make me go on forever
Also he just read the 1260-pager, "The Decine and Fall of the Roman Empire."
Have you done that??? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Cheers to Brad Decker!
2.2.05
diem
Today is awesome and for no particular reason!
Nothing happened, I didn't have a noticeably positive experience with any passers-by, and no, I did not eat a burrito. At least not yet.
Nay, on the surface this day seems like every other day.
But how it's not!
Today is different because I started it out with music. You know, like music. This is something I used to do but has ceased in the past two years. In fact, ceasing, along with desisting have been overall themes in this netherworld, post-grad life of mine.
Up until today.*
This morning I listened to one of my favorite songs on the way to work: "the Obvious Child" by Paul Simon (the live, in-Central Park version). If you've ever been present when I listen to this song, first of all, I apologize and secondly, you might know what I'm talking about. (Some of you have even participated).
This song begins with a simple snare drum hammering out a few repetious beats leading into huge African bass rythyms, which are soon complemented with syncopatedly-blaring horns, a bass vocalist, twinkly triangles and a harpsichord-like guitar swish.
Oh, and a swelling feeling in the chest.
Indeed, the introduction quickly becomes an all-out party for both ear and soul (all the while you've got a 100,000+ crowd with an amazing roar). Even before Paul comes in with the first line ("Well I'm accustomed to a smooth ride..."), I feel like I can do anything.
Point: this song lifts me off my feet and today I wanted to do some jumpy, tribal dance all the way down the Connecticut bridge. In fact, I kind of did.
Many of you may have observed, and have sometimes quipped, that I seem different than from a few years ago: more stressed out, more edgy (not in the artsy way)--perhaps even kind of lame.
I completely agree with you, dear friend. Although it's not without cause--a lot of my life has been switched around--it's also not without fault. Mayhaps it's even possible for someone as great as Emilie Cole** to become a reactor--a player--in her own life!
I'm not advocating some dramatic "taking the bull by the horns" kind of awakening; sometimes it's good to ride the bull. I can't believe I just said that. However I feel like I'm leaving one state and entering another. And NO, it's not Maryland and DC.
All in all, I feel like Sonny from the song:
"getting sunnier day by day by day by day...."
(or is it Sonnier? Hmmm...)
* "today" refers to the past few days, similar to how "seven days" in the Bible actually means millions of years.
** This is a sarcastically-put statement intended to satirize my self-realization that I'm not really "great" yet I am, and that neither are you, yet you are.
Full lyrics:
Well I’m accustomed to a smooth ride
Or maybe I’m a dog who’s lost it’s bite
I don’t expect to be treated like a fool no more
I don’t expect to sleep through the night
Some people say a lie is just a lie
But I say
Why deny the obvious child? Why deny the obvious child?
And in remembering a road sign
I am remembering a girl when I was young
And we said
these songs are true
These days are ours
These tears are free
And hey now
The cross is in the ballpark, The cross is in the ballpark
We had a lot of fun, had a lot of money
We had a little son and we thought we’d call him Sonny
Sonny gets married and moves away
Sonny has a baby and bills to pay
Sonny gets sunnier day by day by day by day
I’ve been waking up at sunrise
I’ve been following the light across my room
I watch the night receive the room of my day
Some people say the sky is just the sky
But I say
Why deny the obvious child? Why deny the obvious child?
Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself how it’s strange that some rooms are like cages
Sonny’s yearbook from high school is down from the shelf and he idly thumbs through the pages
Some have died
Some have fled from themselves
Or struggled from here to get there
Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls,
Runs his hand through his thinning brown hair
Well I’m accustomed to a smoother ride
Maybe I’m a dog that’s lost his bite
I don’t expect to be treated like a fool no more!
I don’t expect to sleep the night!
Some people say a lie is just a lie, but I say
the cross is in the ballpark!
Why deny the obvious child?
Nothing happened, I didn't have a noticeably positive experience with any passers-by, and no, I did not eat a burrito. At least not yet.
Nay, on the surface this day seems like every other day.
But how it's not!
Today is different because I started it out with music. You know, like music. This is something I used to do but has ceased in the past two years. In fact, ceasing, along with desisting have been overall themes in this netherworld, post-grad life of mine.
Up until today.*
This morning I listened to one of my favorite songs on the way to work: "the Obvious Child" by Paul Simon (the live, in-Central Park version). If you've ever been present when I listen to this song, first of all, I apologize and secondly, you might know what I'm talking about. (Some of you have even participated).
This song begins with a simple snare drum hammering out a few repetious beats leading into huge African bass rythyms, which are soon complemented with syncopatedly-blaring horns, a bass vocalist, twinkly triangles and a harpsichord-like guitar swish.
Oh, and a swelling feeling in the chest.
Indeed, the introduction quickly becomes an all-out party for both ear and soul (all the while you've got a 100,000+ crowd with an amazing roar). Even before Paul comes in with the first line ("Well I'm accustomed to a smooth ride..."), I feel like I can do anything.
Point: this song lifts me off my feet and today I wanted to do some jumpy, tribal dance all the way down the Connecticut bridge. In fact, I kind of did.
Many of you may have observed, and have sometimes quipped, that I seem different than from a few years ago: more stressed out, more edgy (not in the artsy way)--perhaps even kind of lame.
I completely agree with you, dear friend. Although it's not without cause--a lot of my life has been switched around--it's also not without fault. Mayhaps it's even possible for someone as great as Emilie Cole** to become a reactor--a player--in her own life!
I'm not advocating some dramatic "taking the bull by the horns" kind of awakening; sometimes it's good to ride the bull. I can't believe I just said that. However I feel like I'm leaving one state and entering another. And NO, it's not Maryland and DC.
All in all, I feel like Sonny from the song:
"getting sunnier day by day by day by day...."
(or is it Sonnier? Hmmm...)
* "today" refers to the past few days, similar to how "seven days" in the Bible actually means millions of years.
** This is a sarcastically-put statement intended to satirize my self-realization that I'm not really "great" yet I am, and that neither are you, yet you are.
Full lyrics:
Well I’m accustomed to a smooth ride
Or maybe I’m a dog who’s lost it’s bite
I don’t expect to be treated like a fool no more
I don’t expect to sleep through the night
Some people say a lie is just a lie
But I say
Why deny the obvious child? Why deny the obvious child?
And in remembering a road sign
I am remembering a girl when I was young
And we said
these songs are true
These days are ours
These tears are free
And hey now
The cross is in the ballpark, The cross is in the ballpark
We had a lot of fun, had a lot of money
We had a little son and we thought we’d call him Sonny
Sonny gets married and moves away
Sonny has a baby and bills to pay
Sonny gets sunnier day by day by day by day
I’ve been waking up at sunrise
I’ve been following the light across my room
I watch the night receive the room of my day
Some people say the sky is just the sky
But I say
Why deny the obvious child? Why deny the obvious child?
Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself how it’s strange that some rooms are like cages
Sonny’s yearbook from high school is down from the shelf and he idly thumbs through the pages
Some have died
Some have fled from themselves
Or struggled from here to get there
Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls,
Runs his hand through his thinning brown hair
Well I’m accustomed to a smoother ride
Maybe I’m a dog that’s lost his bite
I don’t expect to be treated like a fool no more!
I don’t expect to sleep the night!
Some people say a lie is just a lie, but I say
the cross is in the ballpark!
Why deny the obvious child?
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