I am very happy about the Nats winning "streak." What makes me more proud is that they're doing it in their crappy stadium and in the worst spring in memorable baseball history. But, for the Nats, it's a chilly spring of bonding.
Ontario native and pitcher Shawn Hill, however, isn't quick to take the compliment:
"We played baseball when it was hailing and it was minus-15 degrees. Until there's snow on the ground and the wind's blowing it sideways, it's not cold."
17.4.07
10.4.07
grow up, DCist
From the DCist's recent article, "In-Nat-equate":
Well, Nats fans, what's there to say? What can we add to the criticism leveled by so many others?
What can we say about an opening week where the Nats have yet to lead for a single pitch? When the pitching has spotted the opposition leads of 6-0, 6-0, 5-0, 4-0, 7-0, 6-0, and 3-0? When the lineup needed 30 at bats to finally get a hit with a man in scoring position? When the defense has a worst-in-the-league eight errors?
This article makes me sad. Boo hoo. How, in our nation's capital, are you actually THIS fickle that you cannot enjoy America's original pastime??? I lived in D.C. when the Nats came to town and spent three hours on eBay trying to get opening day tickets. The daughter of a career officer, I had never had baseball in my life before, and I welcomed the chance to root for the home team and follow the boys through ups and downs. Even though a year later I had moved across the country to San Francisco, I still get excited when the Grapefruit League starts and my Google "Nats" Alerts roll in by the dozens each week. Well, except when crap like this comes to my inbox and I wonder how people like the author are able to enjoy life when they're so focused on the negative and can't just sit back and enjoy what it means to be a fan.
Well, Nats fans, what's there to say? What can we add to the criticism leveled by so many others?
What can we say about an opening week where the Nats have yet to lead for a single pitch? When the pitching has spotted the opposition leads of 6-0, 6-0, 5-0, 4-0, 7-0, 6-0, and 3-0? When the lineup needed 30 at bats to finally get a hit with a man in scoring position? When the defense has a worst-in-the-league eight errors?
This article makes me sad. Boo hoo. How, in our nation's capital, are you actually THIS fickle that you cannot enjoy America's original pastime??? I lived in D.C. when the Nats came to town and spent three hours on eBay trying to get opening day tickets. The daughter of a career officer, I had never had baseball in my life before, and I welcomed the chance to root for the home team and follow the boys through ups and downs. Even though a year later I had moved across the country to San Francisco, I still get excited when the Grapefruit League starts and my Google "Nats" Alerts roll in by the dozens each week. Well, except when crap like this comes to my inbox and I wonder how people like the author are able to enjoy life when they're so focused on the negative and can't just sit back and enjoy what it means to be a fan.
21.3.07
misc. wednesday
-Things are pretty much back to "normal" now; just getting into work again and looking forward to the spring and summer. It's different without the three-minute voice messages hounding on the Democrats or updating me on the weather, but in more ways than one, Grandmere is definitely still alive in spirit.
-While I'm still not sure how I feel about the hyper-personalization of news (that, essentially, we "miss out" on important information if we simply tailor every publication toward our liking), I have to say that Google News Alerts have become the solution to my sports-team ignorance. I've always been so flustered about not being able find my way through the sports-journalism labyrinth, that I simply give up within the first few weeks of the season. Then I feel like such a poser not knowing what's going on when I watch the games! Thank god that now Google simply delivers, right to my inbox, a list of links matching "washington nationals." I think I'm actually going to be able to form an opinion for once -- my first one ever in the history of sports. Maybe I'll try it out on my next posting.
-Congratulations to my roommate and pal Karen for winning this St. Patty's Day "Romancing the Island" 25k run on Angel Island here in SF! (Yours truly, on the other hand, could barely finish the 12k without my knee exploding in pain. A year and a half after the MCM, it's still fucked up.)
-Good ol' Brad is coming to visit this weekend and I couldn't be more excitamundo. Lineup of events includes trip to Napa -- got a free pair of 10-cent tasting passes for 10 wineries. Coupled with the super-cheap $20 ferry/bus pass, I'd say we're gonna be making out pretty frugally. Maybe we'll go to a nice restaurant and just ask for water and bread.
-$10 to anyone who can tell me what he's saying.
-Joined a women's flag football team with Leah. After my first game, I can say with confidence that it's probably the gayest thing I've ever done. Even more than working for the National Center for Lesbian Rights.
-Some pop-meta-critic will probably write (or perhaps has already written), a treatise on spelling, punctuation, and grammar in the digital age. I would like to go on record as the first person who said that hyperlinks are the new parentheses.
-While I'm still not sure how I feel about the hyper-personalization of news (that, essentially, we "miss out" on important information if we simply tailor every publication toward our liking), I have to say that Google News Alerts have become the solution to my sports-team ignorance. I've always been so flustered about not being able find my way through the sports-journalism labyrinth, that I simply give up within the first few weeks of the season. Then I feel like such a poser not knowing what's going on when I watch the games! Thank god that now Google simply delivers, right to my inbox, a list of links matching "washington nationals." I think I'm actually going to be able to form an opinion for once -- my first one ever in the history of sports. Maybe I'll try it out on my next posting.
-Congratulations to my roommate and pal Karen for winning this St. Patty's Day "Romancing the Island" 25k run on Angel Island here in SF! (Yours truly, on the other hand, could barely finish the 12k without my knee exploding in pain. A year and a half after the MCM, it's still fucked up.)
-Good ol' Brad is coming to visit this weekend and I couldn't be more excitamundo. Lineup of events includes trip to Napa -- got a free pair of 10-cent tasting passes for 10 wineries. Coupled with the super-cheap $20 ferry/bus pass, I'd say we're gonna be making out pretty frugally. Maybe we'll go to a nice restaurant and just ask for water and bread.
-$10 to anyone who can tell me what he's saying.
-Joined a women's flag football team with Leah. After my first game, I can say with confidence that it's probably the gayest thing I've ever done. Even more than working for the National Center for Lesbian Rights.
-Some pop-meta-critic will probably write (or perhaps has already written), a treatise on spelling, punctuation, and grammar in the digital age. I would like to go on record as the first person who said that hyperlinks are the new parentheses.
9.3.07
grandmere
Velma "Vicki" Jean Wilburn Strickland1929 - 2007
My Grandmere passed away this Monday after a courageous battle with brain and lung cancer. I wanted to share my remarks from the services with you few blog readers, for no reason other than why the heck else we throw anything upon these blogs: it means something to the author.
Given at Edenton (N.C.) United Methodist Church, 3/8/2007:
It is very hard to relay to you all what Grandmere means to the seven of us grandkids. But hopefully, I can share a fraction of that with you today.
I think I can say with tremendous confidence that Katie, James, Brooke, Caleb, Lauren, Zach and I sure had our work cut out for us. I bet we had to explain ourselves more than any other set of grandchildren out there:
“Grandwho?”
“What-meer?”
Proudly, and as if it was everyone else who was odd, we’d reply, “You know – Grandmere, silly.”
We’d never let anyone get away with, “Oh, your grandma.” And by the end of the conversation, they would have adopted the word “Grandmere” right into their own vocabularies. “Grandmere” was like saying “Velma” or “Vicki”; it was her name.
Many of you still might be a little confused, so let me quickly explain.
Hardly a bedtime passed when she would not read to us. One night we came upon a French fairy tale of a little girl named Nanette who lived with her grandmother. She left their cottage on a journey to visit a creepy, old chateau.
“Now a chateau in France was a castle…built of gray stone and had many high round towers, and underneath there were dungeons. Happily, Nanette trudged along, watching the towers come nearer and nearer. The tall towers reached right up into the clouds. Her wooden shoes clatter-clapped, for they were going to the Chateau, too. Now Nanette began to climb the steps that led to the Chateau. There were many steps to be climbed—the Chateau was far above the stone cottage where Nanette and Grandmere lived.”
-From “Nanette Visits the Chateau” by Esther Brann Childcraft books, 1949
In French, “Grandmere” is pronounced “grahn-mare.” But in her loving, South-Western Virginia accent, she was soon to pronounce the grandmother’s name...well, in her loving, South-Western Virginia accent.
Following directions, I repeated what I had heard...and, just like that, “Grand-meer” was born.
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve told that story. One of the more memorable was to my French boss when I was working at a French restaurant in Washington, D.C. He jokingly replied, “So…what do you call your grandfather? Grandpeer?”
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve told that story. One of the more memorable was to my French boss when I was working at a French restaurant in Washington, D.C. He jokingly replied, “So…what do you call your grandfather? Grandpeer?”
Just like her name, Grandmere is an intersection of the true-blue American from the mountains of South Western Virginia and a well-traveled, worldly woman with an incredibly-deep talent of cultural and historical knowledge. No matter how far away my dad’s Army career took us, Grandmere – and Grandpapa – were there. In fact, there are only a handful of memories from the eight years I lived overseas in which Grandmere isn’t a major part. On the other hand, she didn’t think twice to set up her life here in Edenton when our family needed it. And even here, she has turned this small town into an international hub: Strickland Family Central, where relatives and friends come from near and far to what she has made into our family’s home.
But this dedication to family is only a sliver of a glimpse of who Grandmere was, is, and always will be.
A strong, courageous, independent – and, oftentimes respectably-stubborn – woman, Grandmere has given me and my cousins that same life determination and resolution to do what is right and honorable. What’s more has been her remarkable gift of confidence that we can do anything. Today she leaves us so many gifts, not the least of which are her conviction and faith, and so, so many more lessons. I don’t think Grandmere considered herself a teacher, but she was a great one. Indeed, it was especially in these past few years where we grandchildren have watched as Grandmere has stood by our Grandpapa, and have learned so many valuable examples of love and loyalty.
We WILL carry these lessons – and values – through our own lifetimes, and our grandchildren will do the same. It’s this kind of impact that we can only hope to pass down to the generations that follow us as much as Grandmere has done for this generation.
There is a quote that Grandmere never let me forget. Well, there are many things she quite successfully never let me forget; sometimes at the expense of my patience.
But she always told me, “Ems, there are three things no one can ever take away from you: Your vote, your faith, and your dignity.”
To this short – but powerful – list, I would add a fourth: Grandmere herself.
But this dedication to family is only a sliver of a glimpse of who Grandmere was, is, and always will be.
A strong, courageous, independent – and, oftentimes respectably-stubborn – woman, Grandmere has given me and my cousins that same life determination and resolution to do what is right and honorable. What’s more has been her remarkable gift of confidence that we can do anything. Today she leaves us so many gifts, not the least of which are her conviction and faith, and so, so many more lessons. I don’t think Grandmere considered herself a teacher, but she was a great one. Indeed, it was especially in these past few years where we grandchildren have watched as Grandmere has stood by our Grandpapa, and have learned so many valuable examples of love and loyalty.
We WILL carry these lessons – and values – through our own lifetimes, and our grandchildren will do the same. It’s this kind of impact that we can only hope to pass down to the generations that follow us as much as Grandmere has done for this generation.
There is a quote that Grandmere never let me forget. Well, there are many things she quite successfully never let me forget; sometimes at the expense of my patience.
But she always told me, “Ems, there are three things no one can ever take away from you: Your vote, your faith, and your dignity.”
To this short – but powerful – list, I would add a fourth: Grandmere herself.
22.2.07
about reading
Recently, I have been a part of a few different conversations about reading: what people read, how, when, etc. I've always thought of myself as a reader, but now that I think about it, I guess I should really fess up that I'm not necessarily that. Readers make time to read, and, well, I don't.
On the other hand, I really love reading when it's actually happening...and usually, I get annoyed that I have to stop to, say, sleep. But I'm admitting, after these conversations, that I'm not "a reader" at this point in my life.
One problem I have is that I feel really ignorant about books, authors, "classics," and overall literary history. I'm not quite sure why such-and-such book is considered classic of this or representative of that, but instead of picking it up to read it, my ignorance makes me want to not read it "yet" until I've learned the basics of literary history. I feel that I wouldn't "understand" the book as well as I would if I had some context in which to place it.
In the end, I end up not reading it because I don't have that knowledge, that results in not reading, and I'm "stuck" in the same position I was in before. It's a vicious cycle, really.
Don't get me wrong: I've taken steps to remedy this. I copied my friend's syllabus from Columbia, bought The Illiad and just tried to start plugging away. Eventually, I couldn't get past the dense list-of-battle-groups section. I moved on.
Another time I bought the Oxford Anthology of Literature and was determined to conduct my own survey literature course with it. Well, that wasn't the lightest summer reading (literally and figuratively), so I left the project for another time.
Other times I just read a book randomly, highly enjoy it, but feel like I didn't "learn" as much as I could because of my lack of understanding of literature.
Part of this is my stubborness about knowing as much as I could. Part of it is motivation/lazy issues. A lot of it is availability. One thing's for certain, though...I don't like the fact that I'm not a "reader," and I'd like to find -- or make -- the time to change that.
Maybe after this whole LSAT thing...
On the other hand, I really love reading when it's actually happening...and usually, I get annoyed that I have to stop to, say, sleep. But I'm admitting, after these conversations, that I'm not "a reader" at this point in my life.
One problem I have is that I feel really ignorant about books, authors, "classics," and overall literary history. I'm not quite sure why such-and-such book is considered classic of this or representative of that, but instead of picking it up to read it, my ignorance makes me want to not read it "yet" until I've learned the basics of literary history. I feel that I wouldn't "understand" the book as well as I would if I had some context in which to place it.
In the end, I end up not reading it because I don't have that knowledge, that results in not reading, and I'm "stuck" in the same position I was in before. It's a vicious cycle, really.
Don't get me wrong: I've taken steps to remedy this. I copied my friend's syllabus from Columbia, bought The Illiad and just tried to start plugging away. Eventually, I couldn't get past the dense list-of-battle-groups section. I moved on.
Another time I bought the Oxford Anthology of Literature and was determined to conduct my own survey literature course with it. Well, that wasn't the lightest summer reading (literally and figuratively), so I left the project for another time.
Other times I just read a book randomly, highly enjoy it, but feel like I didn't "learn" as much as I could because of my lack of understanding of literature.
Part of this is my stubborness about knowing as much as I could. Part of it is motivation/lazy issues. A lot of it is availability. One thing's for certain, though...I don't like the fact that I'm not a "reader," and I'd like to find -- or make -- the time to change that.
Maybe after this whole LSAT thing...
10.2.07
my update posting
Well, it looks like I've slipped a bit (O.K., a lot) in my blogging duties/obligations. Sometimes that just happens 'cause of life. Speaking of, though, here are some of my updates since November.
j-My brother came to visit me for Thanksgiving. It was, I'd say, a turning point in our adult sibling relationship.
@-I took a job at the National Center for Lesbian Rights, a national non-profit law firm working towards equality under the law for all gay people. Some of our major cases include the recently-settled Harris v. Penn State and the upcoming Woo v. California (California's version of the Massachusetts ruling. Basically, if we win, gay "marriage" will be legal in California.) We're lead counsel in these cases and more, a role which most people think is reserved for the ACLU, Human Rights Campaign, or Lambda Legal. It's actually NCLR -- kinda cool, huh? I started this past Monday, so I witnessed the media barrage that was the Harris case (Google-news it). It's a great organization and my co-workers are awesome!
G-I've decided to apply for law school for '08.
Y-My girlfriend Leah and I celebrated our first anniversary. Looking forward to year #2.
b-I'm the proud owner of a new road bike.
h-Grandmere has stage four lung and brain cancer. Not so great. I went to visit her for a week and let's just say that cancer is a real eye-opening disease. If I were you I would stop smoking...um, NOW.
j-My brother came to visit me for Thanksgiving. It was, I'd say, a turning point in our adult sibling relationship.
@-I took a job at the National Center for Lesbian Rights, a national non-profit law firm working towards equality under the law for all gay people. Some of our major cases include the recently-settled Harris v. Penn State and the upcoming Woo v. California (California's version of the Massachusetts ruling. Basically, if we win, gay "marriage" will be legal in California.) We're lead counsel in these cases and more, a role which most people think is reserved for the ACLU, Human Rights Campaign, or Lambda Legal. It's actually NCLR -- kinda cool, huh? I started this past Monday, so I witnessed the media barrage that was the Harris case (Google-news it). It's a great organization and my co-workers are awesome!
G-I've decided to apply for law school for '08.
Y-My girlfriend Leah and I celebrated our first anniversary. Looking forward to year #2.
b-I'm the proud owner of a new road bike.
h-Grandmere has stage four lung and brain cancer. Not so great. I went to visit her for a week and let's just say that cancer is a real eye-opening disease. If I were you I would stop smoking...um, NOW.
21.11.06
borat sucked
You guys know me; I don't shy away from offensive and awkward humor. That being said, I think the movie "Borat" was a complete piece of crap, dim and stupidly written, and, well, bad. Definitely spend your ten bucks on something else!
16.11.06
wtf thursday
The only WTF I have is about my own musical taste between 1998 and 2000.
If I EVER would have thought that my favorite late-nineties women musicians would end up as Starbucks poster children or obscure public radio program showcased artists (read: Sheryl Crow, Shawn Colvin, fuckin' Sarah McLachlan [you can find her debut holiday standards album next to the after-coffee mints]), I may have been going to Lollapalooza instead of Lilith Fair.
That being said, I did enjoy my grande gingerbread latte.
If I EVER would have thought that my favorite late-nineties women musicians would end up as Starbucks poster children or obscure public radio program showcased artists (read: Sheryl Crow, Shawn Colvin, fuckin' Sarah McLachlan [you can find her debut holiday standards album next to the after-coffee mints]), I may have been going to Lollapalooza instead of Lilith Fair.
That being said, I did enjoy my grande gingerbread latte.
8.11.06
misc. wednesday
-Love this bridge:
-I think I'm going to go home for lunch and make macaroni and cheese. My favorite kind of mac-n-cheese is Kraft spirals.
-Karen leaves for her much-anticipated return visit to South Africa today. We'll miss you!
-Public radio bias aside, I think npr.org has the best interactive election website, hands-down.
-In response to how President Bush plans to handle the likely Pelosi House leadership, he began his reply with "This isn't my first rodeo..." I just think that's hilarious. On a related note, I think he's doing a good job overall with this particular news conference...very candid and sincere sounding. Actually, it's almost stand-up-comic-like.
-I'm kind of sad the California cigarette tax proposition failed. It would have been interesting to see what, if anything, it would have done for public health.
-Is there something wrong with me for being so antsy with my job? Am I cursed with an insatiable work ethic? Seriously...it's not "ungratefulness"; I know many would give anything for my setup and thinking back to my initial hire, I thought I was the luckiest gal in the whole wide world. But while those theoreticals fly about in the flourescently-lit air, I'm managing to trudge through the days, completely out of ideas for how to make it better, and it's kinda taking a (albeit sporadic) toll. Maybe my lifetime of moving around, and then four years of college involved with every activity under the "sun" (Syracuse joke) has made it even more difficult to find a corresponding job. But I'm OK with that challenge, even if it pains me daily to not be there yet. I would rather work nonstop from 8 - 6 than stroll in here at 9 and wrack my brains thinking of how to contribute until five. (By the by...it's not that the work I do is 'easy,' it's just that there's not enough of it, it's getting super repetitive, and I've completely outgrown the skills required to complete the duties). The good things are that I've realized this about myself (this need to be completely engaged and challenged on the job), and I have enough time on my hands to apply to other jobs.
-On an ironic, but similar note, there was what I consider an amazing essay this past Monday on Morning Edition's weekly "This I Believe" series. A woman explains why you have to live with what you do every single day, so it might as well be exactly what you want. Amen to that - and I'm workin' on it!
-Hyperlinks are the new parentheses.
-I think I'm going to go home for lunch and make macaroni and cheese. My favorite kind of mac-n-cheese is Kraft spirals.
-I'm very excited about Friday night! Going to see Michael Tilson Thomas conduct the SF Symphony...and they're playing my favorite, Mozart!!
-Karen leaves for her much-anticipated return visit to South Africa today. We'll miss you!
6.11.06
weekend edition: boo's mom
A great weekend overall! Well, except for this:
At 2-6, I'm not sure if Ben and the boys will be seeing much playoff action. But with this kind of thing, maybe they're getting all the "action" they need.
OK, maybe that was a tasteless joke. But I didn't take the picture, for god's sakes!
Regardless of their record/propensity for compromising positions, I'm still looking forward to Heinz Field on Christmas Eve.
Moving on to more pressing matters, as I mentioned above I had a lovely weekend, mostly due to the visit of Mrs. Tuckman ("Jan"). Raised in a Southern-slash-military household, I still have a hard time calling her Jan.
But I should really self-actualize my 25 year-old-ness and get on with it.
Jan's Visit 2006 began after work on Friday when the three of us (Jan, Leah, myself) met up at Limon...a yummy Peruvian restaurant specializing in ceviche, which I will officially label as the 'bomb diggity.'
Last weekend some guy dented Leah's car while it was parked in my neighborhood. He left a note, Leah called him, and he offered to get her a gift certificate for dinner somewhere when Leah said the dent wasn't a big deal. By the end of the day there was a $100 credit towards Limon in the mailbox!
Nice guy, huh? So San Francisco.
But that was last weekend and this is supposed to be about this weekend, so I continue. Limon...awesome.
Saturday met boo and boo's mom down at the Ferry Building for some wonderful market-browsing which resulted in the purchase of some green tomatoes, rainbow chard, and a sugar pumpkin for a Sunday of cooking and baking. Afterwards we took an afternoon trip to the secret beach, the location of which remains a secret to many, save a sprinkle of San Franciscans and a handful of nude-prone gay men. It's located off of Lincoln Blvd via Langdoon Court in the Presidio (closer to the bridge more than Baker Beach).
Post-Pacific Ocean sunset we headed back to the cit-ay and caught the latest Killing My Lobster show: another hilarious sketch comedy by the crew and I highly recommend checking it out! If you do, you'll know why after the performance we high-tailed it over to Taqueria Castillito for some much-needed Mexican fare. After saying farewell to a lovely Saturday with the ladies, went home and watched the first three episodes of Six Feet Under, season 5.
Sunday-day the Tuckmans had their own time; I went on a bike ride and tried my hand at running right afterward (weird sensation). I then commenced what would be a five-hour baking/cooking spree, culminating in a Sunday-evening dinner for me, Leah, and "Jan" consisting of fried green tomatoes, sauteed chard and some butternut squash soup, as well as pumpkin bread and oatmeal cookies. Pleasant time all around with the Colts ending a Pats win streak, 27-20.
Happy Monday!
At 2-6, I'm not sure if Ben and the boys will be seeing much playoff action. But with this kind of thing, maybe they're getting all the "action" they need.OK, maybe that was a tasteless joke. But I didn't take the picture, for god's sakes!
Regardless of their record/propensity for compromising positions, I'm still looking forward to Heinz Field on Christmas Eve.
Moving on to more pressing matters, as I mentioned above I had a lovely weekend, mostly due to the visit of Mrs. Tuckman ("Jan"). Raised in a Southern-slash-military household, I still have a hard time calling her Jan.
But I should really self-actualize my 25 year-old-ness and get on with it.
Jan's Visit 2006 began after work on Friday when the three of us (Jan, Leah, myself) met up at Limon...a yummy Peruvian restaurant specializing in ceviche, which I will officially label as the 'bomb diggity.'
Last weekend some guy dented Leah's car while it was parked in my neighborhood. He left a note, Leah called him, and he offered to get her a gift certificate for dinner somewhere when Leah said the dent wasn't a big deal. By the end of the day there was a $100 credit towards Limon in the mailbox!
Nice guy, huh? So San Francisco.
But that was last weekend and this is supposed to be about this weekend, so I continue. Limon...awesome.
Saturday met boo and boo's mom down at the Ferry Building for some wonderful market-browsing which resulted in the purchase of some green tomatoes, rainbow chard, and a sugar pumpkin for a Sunday of cooking and baking. Afterwards we took an afternoon trip to the secret beach, the location of which remains a secret to many, save a sprinkle of San Franciscans and a handful of nude-prone gay men. It's located off of Lincoln Blvd via Langdoon Court in the Presidio (closer to the bridge more than Baker Beach).
Post-Pacific Ocean sunset we headed back to the cit-ay and caught the latest Killing My Lobster show: another hilarious sketch comedy by the crew and I highly recommend checking it out! If you do, you'll know why after the performance we high-tailed it over to Taqueria Castillito for some much-needed Mexican fare. After saying farewell to a lovely Saturday with the ladies, went home and watched the first three episodes of Six Feet Under, season 5.
Sunday-day the Tuckmans had their own time; I went on a bike ride and tried my hand at running right afterward (weird sensation). I then commenced what would be a five-hour baking/cooking spree, culminating in a Sunday-evening dinner for me, Leah, and "Jan" consisting of fried green tomatoes, sauteed chard and some butternut squash soup, as well as pumpkin bread and oatmeal cookies. Pleasant time all around with the Colts ending a Pats win streak, 27-20.
Happy Monday!
2.11.06
autumn? autumn!
And now for a cheesy post about autumn, so typical of east-coasters who would never THINK of leaving the paradise that is the Bay Area...except during this time of year:
To be frank, I used to HATE autumn. Not sure why. I think part of it had to do with the omninous flute music and earthy color scheme of (boring) 1970s television reruns. Also, because I lived overseas for so long, I never grew up with those American autumnal staples like football, pumpkin-based foodstuffs, and sweatshirts with turtlenecks underneath. In fact, I used to dislike the fall because it basically meant that I would have to wear sweatshirts with turtlenecks underneath.
And I hate sweatshirts!
OK, not really. It just meant that playing outside was coming to a close end and then I'd be stuck inside with my family.
Um, no thanks.
But somewhere along the line, I began to like the fall.
Well, not just "somewhere." I know where this deciduous decision began, goshdarnit, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It started with high-school cross country. Yes, cross country. I know that sounds really dorky...but whatevs, yo. Cross country is dorky! But that's where it started and you're going to have to accept that about me.
You see, after months of training in hot weather, the season quickly changed to cool, brisk afternoons which made running 70 minutes of hills much more bearable--nay--enjoyable.
Then came the races themselves. Set against a brilliant backdrop of red, orange, and yellow, the meets were both exciting and familiar. Exciting because you never knew where your legs would--or wouldn't--take you that day. (At least that's my definition of "exciting." You?)
Familiar because there was always the coolness and the colorfulness by your side.
My falls at SU came with significant bruises, and were mostly due to drinking.
Just kidding.
My falls at SU came both with and without running, mostly due to knee injuries, impairments and issues. But Central NY provided an awesome substitute for the glory days of Carlisle XC with its most beautiful trees and many an apple festival.
Probably too many an apple festival, now that I think about it.
The point is, I had to mentally and emotionally separate fall from running, which was tough, but, like most college 'experiences,' it is something I wouldn't trade for the whole wide world and for which I am now a better person who can share my experience with, and provide support for, others who are also going through this difficult challenge related to knees, autumn, running and apples.
I am here for you.
Since healthily separating fall from running, I have come to love its other above-mentioned American adornments: football, pumpkin-based foodstuffs, and...well, call me a party pooper, but you'd still be hard pressed to find me wearing a turtleneck. But I can say with unwavering confidence that autumn has slowly made its way to the top of my favorite-seasons list.
Well, if I was on the east coast.
To be frank, I used to HATE autumn. Not sure why. I think part of it had to do with the omninous flute music and earthy color scheme of (boring) 1970s television reruns. Also, because I lived overseas for so long, I never grew up with those American autumnal staples like football, pumpkin-based foodstuffs, and sweatshirts with turtlenecks underneath. In fact, I used to dislike the fall because it basically meant that I would have to wear sweatshirts with turtlenecks underneath.
And I hate sweatshirts!
OK, not really. It just meant that playing outside was coming to a close end and then I'd be stuck inside with my family.
Um, no thanks.
But somewhere along the line, I began to like the fall.
Well, not just "somewhere." I know where this deciduous decision began, goshdarnit, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It started with high-school cross country. Yes, cross country. I know that sounds really dorky...but whatevs, yo. Cross country is dorky! But that's where it started and you're going to have to accept that about me.
You see, after months of training in hot weather, the season quickly changed to cool, brisk afternoons which made running 70 minutes of hills much more bearable--nay--enjoyable.
Then came the races themselves. Set against a brilliant backdrop of red, orange, and yellow, the meets were both exciting and familiar. Exciting because you never knew where your legs would--or wouldn't--take you that day. (At least that's my definition of "exciting." You?)
Familiar because there was always the coolness and the colorfulness by your side.
My falls at SU came with significant bruises, and were mostly due to drinking.
Just kidding.
My falls at SU came both with and without running, mostly due to knee injuries, impairments and issues. But Central NY provided an awesome substitute for the glory days of Carlisle XC with its most beautiful trees and many an apple festival.
Probably too many an apple festival, now that I think about it.
The point is, I had to mentally and emotionally separate fall from running, which was tough, but, like most college 'experiences,' it is something I wouldn't trade for the whole wide world and for which I am now a better person who can share my experience with, and provide support for, others who are also going through this difficult challenge related to knees, autumn, running and apples.
I am here for you.
Since healthily separating fall from running, I have come to love its other above-mentioned American adornments: football, pumpkin-based foodstuffs, and...well, call me a party pooper, but you'd still be hard pressed to find me wearing a turtleneck. But I can say with unwavering confidence that autumn has slowly made its way to the top of my favorite-seasons list.
Well, if I was on the east coast.
1.11.06
misc. wednesday
---Today is the official one-year anniversary of me, Karen, and Leigh living in San Francisco (pictured below on lease-signing day 2005.) Holla!
---On a related note, it's also the 251st anniversary of the Lisbon earthquake and tsunami.
---Yesterday's Project Read session went very well. Mohammed has now officially completed the phonics chapters for the letters 'A' and 'U' and has a box of handmade flash cards to show for it. This means he's mastered most three-letter words containing those vowels in the middle, such as bat, jab, and mug. Along the way he's accidentally mastered a few four-letter words, but those weren't through my teaching. Well, most of them. I'm just really proud of the guy; six months ago he swallowed his 33-year-old pride and came to the program at a zero-literacy level. Now he can read more than one hundred words and figure out even more on his own. Yeah, buddy!
---Blogger Beta is for some reason not allowing me my typical double-space between sections, hence the triple-hypen denotation.
---I'm really into this Forum episode right now; professor Richard Dawkins of Oxford U. is in studio talking about why religion is delusional. It's a very interesting viewpoint, and is one of those which really makes me think about all of the religious people I know. It doesn't make me think they're "stupid" because that would mean that I agree with Mr. Dawkins and am taking it one step further into some sort of judgment. But if, for the sake of thinking, I did agree with Mr. Dawkins, would that mean that I would have to consider all of these folks "stupid?" How could you share his viewpoint and not live cynically in our widely-religious world?
---I've decided that I will continue to use commas the way I was first taught, which is to put one before the conjunction in a series ("eats, shoots, and leaves" instead of "eats, shoots and leaves") There has been some nonsensical talk in the grammar world of removing this stalwart of syntax, but that's just ridiculous to me.
---Here are what I consider two of the most wittily-written phrases in modern popular culture:
1) "That's the statement of the great mint in Doublemint Gum."
-Wrigley commercial, ca. 1995.
2) "I don't know how you do the voodoo that you do so well. It's a spell, hell...makes me wanna shoop, shoop, shoop."
-Salt 'N' Pepa, Shoop (Very Necessary), 1993
---I'd like to congratulate my friend Ren on getting her graphic-design/intelligence dream job at the CIA. Your New Hampshire hermitage paid off and I'm so happy for you, girlin!
31.10.06
the ghosts of halloween: past, present and future
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?
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.
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