A Skirmish of Wit

"... one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." as you like it i, vii

2010-08-31T10:41:00.008-04:00

Another year past. Last week I had yet another birthday. Amazing how those things keep coming.

Although I had kind of given up posting here, it's not so much that nothing was happening. In fact it was more that so much was happening that I couldn't really get a handle on things in such a way that I could write about any of it.

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In some ways I know that I am pretty much the same person I was last year and the year before; I still have the same sense of humor, I know that I surely have the same flaws, and, I hope, the same good qualities that I've always had. I guess what I'm finding in myself that is new is a much greater sense of perspective. The older I get, the grayer everything gets. It was so easy as a younger woman to be confident of things in a black and white world, but the lines have gone all fuzzy now. It's not that I don't have opinions, but it's a lot easier now for me to hear the opinions of others. I think it gives me a better view on things in general, but overall I wouldn't say it's made life easier, particularly.

I think the thing that is frustrating to me about the ongoing birthday problem is the realization that I truly always will be a work in progress. There's never going to be a year where I say, this is it, let's stay right at this point and cruise from here on out -- no need to make any more changes. I guess I know, truthfully, that this would be a boring existence, but it would be nice for a birthday to come around and for me to say to myself, you know, this is where I thought I'd be right now. I suppose it's not out of the realm of possibility, but the thing is, my expectations of who I am and who I ought to be become altered based on the experiences I have. So even if I were to reach the point, say, ten years from now, that I currently think I ought to be at then, there's really a pretty good chance that by then, my expectation of what I ought to be at that point will have completely changed.

I suppose it's the way of things.

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Things I think I've done a good job of improving on this year: Enjoying the moment. Acknowledging appreciation of others. Forthrightness. Self-care. Acknowledging what I know I can't do alone.

Things I think could probably still use major renovations: Trying to control situations beyond my control. Procrastination. Turning off a racing mind. Eating a good variety of food. Sitting still with my thoughts.

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Fall is on the way now, and I'm glad. Fall has the best of everything: days where it's so nice you want to be outside and move around and absorb the sun and the crisp air and all that is around you, as well as days where you turn inward, cozy up alone or with loved ones, and take care of what's going on inside. It's a good time to look for perspective, to try and get right with things as much as you can before winter, when it's all about being turned inward.

And so, onward.

"like him that travels I return again" sonnets cix

2010-06-28T14:46:00.002-04:00

My need to rant about things has encouraged me to pick up this blog, two years later. For a while I just didn't really have anything to say, but a reoccuring experience I've had in the last few weeks has left me feeling the need to throw my thoughts out into the ether again.

So here's the scenario: I'm walking down the street, just a normal stroll to run some errands. I pass by a dude, and happen to make brief eye contact. The dude goes, "Hi." Now, I don't know the guy, but I also don't want to live in a world where people can't just say "hi" as they pass on the street. So I say "Hi," back. Not in an inviting way, just in a, hey, we're two human beings passing on the street kind of way.

Then the guy says something to the effect of "you look really nice" or the like. Nothing lascivious, nothing inappropriate, but by actively commenting on my appearance, now we're pushing the bounds of personal space, I feel. However, at this point, all he's done is say hello and then paid me a seemingly ok compliment. So, not wishing to be rude, I say, somewhat brusquely but not rudely, "Thanks," and continue walking.

Apparently accepting this compliment is construed as an invitation. Now the guy says -- and this is verbatim, and has happened in exactly these words three times recently -- "Can I get your number?"

OK. So, we went from, let's be civil, to ok you're a little forward but haven't said anything actually objectionable, to, completely unwanted advance.

So where should I have stopped this? I don't want to be someone who scowls whenever someone I don't know tries to speak to me. I want to be open minded, not pre-judge people, and engage with the world around me. But what should I have done differently to avoid the unwanted advance? I don't want to not say hello to someone when they say it to me. When they pay me a compliment, as I said, it's an unobjectionable one, but should I scowl at that point regardless, now that prior experience sets off the alarm bell?

This may be partly a case of the "nice girl" syndrome -- perhaps I don't want to be perceived as not a nice and pleasant girl, lest I be judged not feminine, etc. -- but I really think it has more to do with a desire not to shut off from the world around me because of a few bad apples.

I'm curious what others think about this ...

"so bedazzled with the sun" the taming of the shrew: iv, v

2008-07-25T15:49:00.004-04:00

The day of the whale watch was our last full day in Reykjavik. The next day we’d scheduled a stop at The Blue Lagoon on our way to the airport – there’s a company that basically offers a combo shuttle to the airport with a stop at the Lagoon. The Blue Lagoon is billed as this “natural spa” type of thing; it’s a geothermal pool that has certain minerals like silica that are supposed to be so good for your skin, and it’s this kind of ethereal milky blue color, and tourists positively flock> there to go and sit in it and relax and whatever else. Here’s the thing: the Blue Lagoon is really nothing more than industrial runoff. The only difference is that it’s runoff from a clean energy source, so it’s clean water. What happened was, they built a plant for converting the geothermally heated water into the energy source that is used throughout the country, and there was this hot water output from the plant, which they intended to have just run off into the land surrounding the plant. But what they didn’t count on was the fact that the silica created a seal that prevented the water from draining into the volcanic rock, so a pool formed. Apparently people began sneaking in to enjoy the hot water, and then in 1999 someone decided that they could make some money on this thing, and built up dressing rooms, restaurants, and now even a hotel and spa.

So anyway, we went to this place. It was windy, and driving rain, and we’re looking around at all these people, and at ourselves, huddling in this milky blue water, and V. and I looked at each other almost simultaneously and said “This is really silly.” It is. It’s silly. It’s a total tourist trap. We got out after about a half hour and showered and got dressed. I honestly noticed no difference in my skin, and my hair felt dried out and gross. So, really, if you go to Reykjavik, my advice is, skip the Blue Lagoon and hit up a hot pot at a public pool before you go to the airport.

The flight home was delayed by about an hour, and it was packed. There were, I thought, an inordinate number of small children on the plane, as well. Most of them were pretty well behaved, but there was one, sitting fairly close to me, whose only mode of communication seemed to be screeching at top volume. The best part of the flight home was that when we passed over Greenland, the skies were very clear, and we were able to look down and see it. There were a lot of icebergs along the coast, and we could see glaciers and glacial deltas and lakes, and mountains. I’ve been asked if I could see any signs of melting, along the lines of climate change, and all I can say is that I don’t really know – I mean, there were a lot of icebergs, and there were some mountains that were completely snow-free (although the mainland on the whole was quite snow-covered), but on the other hand it is the middle of July, and I can only assume that some level of melting is normal at this time. In any case, it was really just amazing to be able to see such a place from above and it felt like a real treat, since I imagine that the area is often covered in clouds.

And then we were home. It was a great trip, and of course I wish I’d had more time to explore each place we visited more. But overall, I really felt lucky to enjoy the opportunity to see some new places and meet new people. And, I got the chance to learn first-hand the answer to this question: What does midnight in July look like in Reykjavik?

"very like a whale" hamlet: iii, ii

2008-07-24T11:01:00.012-04:00

After the rafting/hiking excursion finished up, we met up with a few people we'd met on the tour -- a Danish couple named Laurids and Jane (pronounced "Yena") and a young American man writing a travel book named Andrew. We had dinner at, of all places, a Mexican restaurant. And I'll be damned if it wasn't some of the best Mexican food I've had since leaving the Southwest!! The family that owns it is from Mexico. This was the best part though: So, many places in Reykjavik stop serving food at like 10pm. The five of us arrived at the restaurant (which had been recommended to us by our tour guide as "really good" and "serves food late") at about 9:50pm, and were told that the kitchen had just closed. Here's where it was awesome: V. made a sad noise and said to the hostess, in his friendly way, "Tell the chef that I came all the way from Juarez just to come here!" (this is close to true -- he grew up in a border town close to Juarez.) She regarded him for a minute and said "Ok, one minute." She disappeared into the kitchen and returned a minute later with some menus and sat us right away. Our new friends were, I think, impressed, as was I!

The next day we met up with our three new friends again to try out this awesome place called "Sushi -- The Train." It was so cool!! Basically, you sit at this long bar, and there is this conveyor belt that comes around the whole bar, and the kitchen sends out little plates with sushi on it, and you pick the ones you want and they just charge you by the plate!

From there we parted ways with Andrew, who had to rush off to his next stop on his schedule, and we headed over to the football stadium. This was my first experience at a European football match. It was Reykjavik's team, Valur, versus neighboring Keflavik. While small in scale, the energy was high. I managed to catch one or two action shots of the game:

We'd chosen to root for Valur, the team in red, since they were the home team. In the end, Valur managed to pull out a tie. All four of us bought some kind of team colors to wear at the match; Laurids and Jane each got a jersey, I got a cap, and V. got a jersey and a cap. After the match we all walked back into town and we went into a shop together. The clerk at the shop kind of looked us up and down and then finally said, "do you mind my asking why you guys are wearing all those Valur shirts?" We told her we'd just been to the game. She shook her head like that was very strange (I get the sense football's not a big draw for tourists in Iceland), and she said "Not even Icelanders wear that much color." Ok, message received. We look like tools.

V. and I went out that night in search of the great Icelandic local music scene that everyone raves about. It was a Saturday night, and we'd heard things don't pick up on Saturdays until about midnight, so we took a little rest and headed out around 11. We ran into a Dutch couple who we knew from the guesthouse we were staying at, and we went with them to try and find this place called NASA, which supposedly is the place to go for live music. So we arrive there only to find that not only is there a foreign DJ there that night but there is also a gagillion kronur cover charge. So that was no good. We ended up hitting a few bars and just hanging out and talking and people watching.

Here's my impression of the nightlife scene in Reykjavik, and bear in mind this is from the perspective of someone who doesn't really go out to bars and clubs all that much anymore, but who used to go out a pretty fair amount in NYC. Reykjavikans seem to thrive on trendiness, dressing up, and getting as pissed drunk as possible. No one's really violent or jerky, but they're all really, really drunk. Most people seem to pre-game pretty heavily because alcohol is prohibitively expensive. Not only that, but there is a line to get into almost every place you might want to go, even if the place isn't totally packed. We walked past one place that - I kid you not - had about 10 people inside, with a line of about 40 outside. It's like if you don't have to wait on line to get in, people don't want to go. Everyone's dressed to the nines, and if you're wearing something that doesn't look "smart" enough to the bouncer, you won't be let in. Some people find that awesome, I find it incredibly boring, and frankly, none of the bars there are awesome enough to warrant that kind of exclusivity. As we were heading home at about 2:30, most places were just heating up, since in general places don't close until about 6 or 7am. There was one place we passed by that had a second-floor balcony that overlooked the street, and the people up there were chucking empty bottles at passerby on the street. Classy! I can see why you'd need to get all dressed up for that.

Our last full day there, we poked around town, hit a small museum that had an exhibit about a volcanic mountain and also one about the Icelandic sagas, and then late that afternoon we were set to head out on a whale watch, along with Laurids and Jane. Now, this was the first day we were there where the weather was not picture perfect. Up until then, it had been sunny and about 65 - 70 degrees, crisp and clean. This day was very drizzly and windy, which I'm told is kind of the default setting in Iceland. So it was less than ideal weather for being on a boat, but we were optimistic.

At the dock, the people getting off the previous whalewatch were all smiles, saying things like "fantastic!" So we felt pretty good about things getting on the boat.

As we pulled out into the harbour, it started to get windier and choppier by the minute. After about 30 minutes, we got out to where they said we may begin to see some whales. Finally, we were told to look over to 11:00 on the boat, as there was a minke whale. I was standing right at 11:00, and I saw a brief flash of a dorsal fin, way too fast to get a picture. Meanwhile about 50 people pressed against me trying to get a look. Then there was supposedly something at 3:00 -- well, no way I was going to get over there, with all the people between me and there. Again at 3:00, and again. Something supposedly at 9:00. I didn't see it. The thing with the minke whales is that, unlike humpback whales, which I've seen on other whale watches, they don't even put their tails up when they make a dive. So you might see their dorsal fin for a second, but then that's it. There's no warning, really, and no big moves. The whales were all business on this day; no jumping or hanging out at the surface. This wouldn't have been so bad, but the tour guide kept trying to tell us how great these sightings were. "What an amazing sighting!" she'd cry after a brief flash of a fin. "Spectacular! We've seen four minke whales already!!" Lady, don't tell me what's spectacular. I'll be the judge of that.

Meanwhile, the wind and swells were really picking up, and I was trying my best to snap pictures of the whale fins I did see.

That last one I actually lost my footing and ended up with a picture of my jacket.

So I didn't get any pictures of whales, I barely saw any at all. Or so I thought, until I was going through my photos today (click on the photo to see it bigger):

So, there it is. I saw a whale.

This post is getting quite long, so the rest of the trip will be continued in another post.

"with rocks unscalable and roaring waters" cymbeline: iii, i

2008-07-22T07:49:00.009-04:00

This was the last fortune cookie I got before I left on my trip:

It's the only fortune cookie I can remember getting that has actually turned out to be true!

I'm back in the States now, my time in Reykjavik just a memory. We had 4 days there and in some ways, it was what I expected, but more often than not, it took me completely by surprise. As I expected, it's a beautiful, unbelievable place. It never got fully dark, it was a crisp, cool temperature in the middle of July. The landscape and the sea were breathtaking, and the people were fun and, also, beautiful; they look like elves in the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings sense. But what took me by surprise is the sense that this country is still kind of an outpost on the edge of the world. V. described it best when he said it's almost what you imagine the Old West in America felt like. Tough, practical people by day, who party like every night is the end of the world.

When we arrived in Rekjavik, we were pretty much exhausted. The first full day we were there, we kind of just took it easy and poked around town. The next day, we went on an excursion that took us on what is called "The Golden Circle," which is basically a tour around a number of spots where there are natural phenomenon. We saw the rift valley where the North Atlantic and European tectonic plates meet.

(You can click on all photos to make them bigger!)

We also went to a place called Þingvellir National Park, which is the site of what they call "the oldest national parliment," which is a reference to the fact that in the early days of Iceland's history, chieftains from all the tribes in the country would gather at this site periodically to go over laws and agreements. What was kind of funny about this was that, up until the 11th century, Icelanders had no written language; everything was verbal. So, basically, the chieftains would go to parliament, and then bring back the rules of law to their tribes or villages, but the villagers would have to trust that a) the chieftain remembered the rules correctly, and b) he wasn't just making shit up. The spot where they met was a beautiful cliff with a waterfall that the Icelanders redirected back in the middle ages so that they would have easy access to water during parliament meetings.

From there we moved on to Geysir, so named for the geothermal activity that goes on there, complete with its namesake, Geysir (the word geysir is an Icelandic word!):

along with some geothermal pools and things

After this part of the excursion, we were off to do some whitewater rafting on the Hvítá river. This was just a ton of fun. Obviously I couldn't take any photos of it. So you'll have to believe me that it was awesome, and in the middle of the trip they pull off into this little cove and give you a chance to go cliff jumping into the rapids, and I DID IT! Ok, so I almost didn't do it -- I stood at the top of the cliff looking down for about 10 minutes, against the advice of the rafting guide. "Don't look down!" he cried. "You should look out across the river!!" But of course I had already looked down; it was too late. Finally, after V. had made his second jump, I just did it, and I was so glad I did!! It was a great feeling.

After the rafting trip we stopped by Gullfoss, a huge, 3 tiered waterfall.

I really took that last photo there, too!! Believe me when I tell you that every time you look around in Iceland, you are seeing views like this.

More to follow in an upcoming post ...

"willingly I came to denmark" hamlet: i, ii

2008-07-16T20:05:00.012-04:00

So, I’m writing this on the flight to Iceland, where we’ll spend our last few days abroad. Our time in Copenhagen was a lot of fun and as an added bonus, we have a friend from college, Søren, who is from there and was able to meet up with us for a couple hours each day. It was great catching up with him, and also a treat to have a local with us who could give us the lowdown on what we were seeing.

The day we arrived, Søren came and picked us up and took us North to Elsinore, also known as the setting of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. There is a castle there, quite beautiful, but what is funny is that they have to take very careful pains to indicate that there was no such man as Hamlet; the play is what we call “fiction.” Apparently they have a problem with people thinking he was real, which to me would be the same as thinking that just because a book is set in a real place, say, London, that the characters must be real too, like, say, Harry Potter.

At any rate, they do have an exhibit that talks about the story of Hamlet, its origins, and its literary impact, which I enjoyed. With that out of the way, they are able to move on to real history, which is abundant in this place. We climbed up to the roof of the tower and had a nice long look around the shoreline. It was a beautiful, if windy, place. According Søren, constant wind is basically a characteristic feature of Denmark.

After the castle, we hopped in the car and took a nice leisurely drive back to town.

Oh, did I mention that Søren has, uh, the SWEETEST ride in all of Copenhagen??

We stopped for a bite to eat in the town of Elsinore, where V. surprised Søren by being the first non-Danish person he’d met who enjoyed red herring smørrebroød (an open faced sandwich). Then we made our way back into town. V. and I took a nice stroll through the Copenhagen city center and got a feel for the place, had a little ice cream (there is an ice cream stand on every block in Copenhagen) and then called it a night.

Yesterday, we got up early, hopped on a train to the north end of town and made our way back across the city on foot. We started out up by the Little Mermaid sculpture, which is pretty and all, but it’s also pretty small, and pretty crowded with tourists. About 30 seconds there was enough time to snap a picture and to decide I’d had my fill of Texans.

From there we headed down through the city fortifications, past St. Alban’s church, and down to the Queen’s palace.

(Image courtesy V.’s excellent photography skilz. Click on image to make larger.)

Down through some smaller streets, and then we climbed up the Round Tower, which is the only tower of its kind in Europe. It’s got a spiral ramp instead of stairs, and at the top there’s a great view of the city.

A little more strolling through the city led us to a pretty good Turkish restaurant for some lunch. Afterwards, we headed down to the docks for a canal tour. The tour took us through many of the small canals that run through various neighborhoods, out into the harbor to see a number of new buildings. They brought us around to see the Little Mermaid, and at that point you get to see the absurd crowds gathered around taking pictures of this sculpture.

Dinner that night with Søren at an Asian place called Wagamami. Very delicious food, and Søren explained to us that if we leave tips in Denmark, we’re getting taken for a ride. We had a nice stroll over the bridge into Christianshavn. By the way, pretty much everything in Copenhagen was invented by King Christian IV and therefore everything is named after him. Christianshavn is not to be confused with Christiana, a totally different part of town.

After we parted ways with Søren, V. and I popped into the very well lit “Erotic Museum.” Seriously, its huge neon sign can be seen from 7 blocks away. It was kind of fun and some of the history of erotic literature and legend in Copenhagen was interesting, but somehow I felt like it was lacking. I guess I just expect a lot out of erotic museums…

That rounded out the Copenhagen portion of our trip.

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The rest of this entry is written after landing in Reykjavik, after my computer’s battery died on the plane. Reykjavik is a really, really interesting city. In a way it feels very European, but in another sense, it’s kind of the opposite, because everything here is so new. Nearly all the buildings sprang up in the last century, and many of them in the latter half of it.

One of the things Reykjavik has a lot of is public pools. We headed over to one near us after arriving today, and boy was it great! They use geothermal heat to keep the pools temperate. Also, there are these “hot pots” which are like Jacuzzis, sort of, except without jets and, again, geothermally heated. And they are so clean!! They tell people they have to shower before getting into the pool, and everyone does it. As a result, they don’t use so much chlorine in the pool as they do in the US, and it’s so nice to come out not smelling like chemicals.

Right now it is midnight and it is still dusk. I don’t think it’s going to get much darker than this. Very, very strange. I’m pretty sure I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight, though.

"the beauteous majesty of denmark" hamlet: iv, v

2008-07-14T17:06:00.008-04:00

So tonight we sleep in Copenhagen. Yesterday and today were a whirlwind and I'm pretty pooped. But I'll just take a run through what we've done ...

Yesterday we'd planned on getting back to the sculpture garden but it didn't work out. (Ok, we overslept.) Instead we headed over to the fortress to check out the Royal Castle, the Norwegian Resistance Museum (detailing the Resistance during WWII), and the Military Museum. All in all, the Resistance Museum was the best of the three by far; the care and emotion that had been put into the exhibit really lent something to the experience. In contrast, the castle was pretty much just a castle, and one without much information at that, and the military museum was like any other military museum.

From there, it was time to board the boat to Copenhagen!

The boat took us down through the fjords of Norway, south over the North Sea and into Copenhagen, and it took all night to get there.

On the boat they had a variety of things to keep us all occupied instead of climbing the walls. There was a, uh, DJ in the "nightclub" on the top deck (read: "empty trainwreck"), and below that was the "piano bar" option (read: "desperate smoke-filled room where you could hear phonetically sounded out renditions of "Proud Mary"). And then there was the Columbus Room. The Columbus Room contained a band whose name I sadly cannot remember, but it was something awesome like "Mixed Company" or something. They were playing all the golden oldies to a room full of prancing pre-teen girls and aging couples dancing around their giant handbags. Towards the end of the evening, when there were only about 10 people left in the room, the lead singer pulled out a set of pan-pipes and played "Don't Cry for Me Argentina." The highlight, though, was either when they sang "Billie Jean is Not My Lover," or when, at our request, they begrudgingly played "Waterloo." I sound like I'm making fun, and I guess I kind of am, but on the other hand, I have respect for musicians like that who can play a variety of instruments and a lot of different styles of music. In a way it must be heartbreaking to play a venue like that; like the worst wedding possible times five.

So the next morning when we got up, we were nearly in Copenhagen.

And the rest will have to wait until another post, as it's been a long day .....

"this greeting to old norway" hamlet: i, ii

2008-07-12T18:31:00.020-04:00

An action-packed day here in Oslo, as it had to be -- today was our only full day in town. Oslo is a really beautiful town, and I've found the locals to be very friendly, helpful, and good-humored.

After a very good breakfast at the hotel, we headed down to the ferry to the Bygdoy Peninsula, an area to the south of central Oslo that houses a number of maritime-related museums. Here is a photo from the ferry; in the distance you can see the ski-jump from the 1952 Olympic Games (you can click on the photos to see them larger):

On Bygdoy, we first hit up the Vikingskipshuset, or Viking Ship Museum. Before entering, I discovered that Diet Coke is called "Coca-Cola Light" which tickled me for some reason. Also, it has a superior flavor.

The museum was great. It's essentially based on the findings of 3 Viking burial sites, each of which consisted of a giant fricking boat filled with treasure, rich silk fabrics, and the body of a dead nobleperson. They have each of the boats on display and then a bunch of artifacts as well.

One of the things that really stuck with me about seeing Viking artifacts was the similarities between the styles of Viking ornamentation and Celtic ornamentation.

After that, we hit up the Kon-Tiki museum, which is a museum dedicated to the memory and work of a world-famous scientist and explorer named Thor Heyerdahl. Basically, this guy would come up with a theory (for example, "ancient people crossed the Atlantic Ocean in boats, and exchanged ideas, which is why there are stepped pyramids in both South America and Egypt"), and critics would denigrate that theory ("no one knew how to make a boat that could get that far!!") and then he would say, well, I guess I'll just have to prove it (and he would basically build a boat made out of materials available in ancient times, such as reeds, and do exactly the thing critics said couldn't be done). The actual reed boat he built and sailed across the ocean was there on display:

He sounded like a badass guy.

Then, also on Bygdoy, we went to the Fram museum, dedicated to a fellow who crossed both the North and South poles. There was a giant boat inside this museum, too, which you could enter and poke around in. V. took some pictures of me dorkily pretending to cook in the ship's galley which he may or may not spare me from.

Last stop on Bygdoy was the Norsk Sjofartsmuseum or Maritime museum, which had some kind of cool stuff, like a collection of ships' figureheads

But the problem was that most of the museum's signage was only in Norwegian, and so we were unable to read any of it. It was really kind of a blessing, because at this point we had kind of looked at all the boats we could manage in one day.

All this was before 1pm!

We hopped back on the ferry to Central Oslo and stopped at the Nobel Peace Center. The Center had a really intense exhibit titled "The Places We Live," which was a multimedia piece about slum life. It was in some ways riveting but in other ways almost impossible to watch and listen to. Growing up in a first world country, my own mental picture conjured by the word "slum" comes nowhere near the true meaning of the word.

There was also an exhibit about Al Gore, who is a current Prize receipient, as well as a permanent display presenting all of the recipients in a very simple but very cool way.

From there we hopped on the subway up to the national football (or "soccer") stadium, which also houses a Football Museum! Now, to be completely honest, I was ready to go to this museum mostly because I knew that V. would enjoy it; however, I really enjoyed it as well! There was a lot of history of football stuff there, which I liked a lot, some great video of awesome goals (which is really the part of football I want to watch -- I know, I know, I'm missing the point of the Beautiful Game. Whatever. The goals are the, you know, goal of the whole thing). Also there was a section where they showed a video of the worst plays (like goal keepers managing to throw balls into their own nets), which was fun to watch. There was a replica of the stadium made out of Legos!!

At the end of the museum portion of the tour there was a room full of Sony Playstations where you could play a videogame soccer, which I thought was a pretty funny touch. Then, after that, we were led by our tour guide, a very sweet and enthusiastic young man named Per, out to the football pitch. We were able to go into the dugouts and also up into the royal seats. Then he also took us down to the dressing room where the team gets ready for all its games. It was a lot of fun and the kind of experience I don't think you'd be able to have at a stadium in the US.

That brought us to dinner. We changed up into some nicer clothes and headed over to a place called Engebret Cafe. Very nice food, great atmosphere, and excellent and friendly service. A great final evening in town.

Finally, after that, we headed up to the Vigelandsparken, a sculpture park that includes more than 200 sculptures that are the life's work of Gustav Vigeland. It is positively amazing. So much so, that we're planning on going back early tomorrow for a better look in the morning light...

"old norway, overcome with joy," hamlet: ii, ii

2008-07-11T17:24:00.005-04:00

Our first night in Oslo; it's not yet dark although it's about 11:30pm.

At the airport in Boston, we saw an Apple computer vending machine. Not selling computers, but it did sell headphones, video eyeglasses (!), cameras, and PSPs. You probably don't believe me, so I took a picture because I am a gigantic tool.

The flight over was mostly uneventful except for a moment where we thought we lost our luggage (false alarm). We stopped in Rekjavik for a layover and got just a glimpse of the place - wow, what a treat that's going to be.

But in the meantime, we're enjoying ourselves here in Norway. We're right in the middle of things here at the hotel -- in fact I just listened to a merrily drunken karaoke rendition of "What Is Love" (also known as the Butabi Brothers song from "Night at the Roxbury") from the bar below us. We had a nice dinner out on a terrace near a little park. We didn't have dinner until about 10pm, but it was still quite light outside.

Tomorrow we've got a big day ahead of us -- we're hoping to hit the Viking museum, the sculpture garden, and as much else as we can squeeze in, as tomorrow is our only full day in Oslo, and then Saturday afternoon we are off to Copenhagen on a boat.

Updates to come ...

"and let thine eye look like a friend on denmark" hamlet: i, ii

2008-07-10T10:35:00.002-04:00

So tonight I'm off on our trip to Denmark, Norway, and Iceland! We leave tonight out of Boston and this time tomorrow I'll be in Oslo. Stay tuned for posts along the way (I hope!)

"the storm is up, and all is on the hazard" julius caesar: v, i

2008-06-24T23:14:00.011-04:00

I watched an awesome storm roll through town this evening.

"this is desperate" the winter's tale: iv, iv

2008-05-16T20:39:00.004-04:00

This clip raises so many more questions than it answers.

- Why would the nearly geriatric members of New "Kids" on the Block subject themselves to the embarrassment of a "reunion"?

- Who thought it would be a good idea to have the New Kids on the Block reunion on the TODAY show, outdoors, in May?

- Do you think anyone told Jordan Knight that wearing sunglasses in a downpour only makes one look desperate?

- Why would the "medley" of their hits contain only the tiniest snippets of their songs -- so little of them that, in fact, identifying title phrases such as "Hangin' Tough" are never actually uttered?

- Who are these girls who have lined up in the rain to watch all of this, and, worse, scream in delight?

In the early '90s when I was a pre-teen, the sight of teen boys dancing in unison while singing in tenuous harmony left me cold, despite how it caused many of my peers to swoon. Today, the sight of grown men dancing in rickety near-unison while hoarsely shouting out snippets of poorly constructed pop songs of yesteryear is just downright embarrassing.

Seriously -- let's hope this all just blows over quietly, shall we?

Perhaps that's too much to wish for:

"a mermaid on a dolphin's back" a midsummer night's dream: ii, i

2008-03-12T17:32:00.002-04:00

This is my favorite news story of the week.

Dolphins are the fricking awesomest.

"see the revolution of the times" king henry iv, part ii: iii, i

2008-02-23T07:49:00.006-05:00

The robot revolution has begun.

If you hear a sneaky sucking sound behind you, look out: your
Roomba has heard the call and your demise is surely imminent.

" now my burthen'd heart would break" king henry vi, part ii: iii, ii

2008-02-03T22:13:00.000-05:00

I may never watch another football game.

"now cheer each other" king richard iii: ii, ii

2008-02-03T15:18:00.000-05:00

Today I had to pop over to the mall to pick up a couple of things. The mall here in town is adjacent to the convention center, and this weekend there is a cheerleading competition going on there. V ran into just the tip of the iceberg this morning when he thoughtfully stopped in at the Dunkin Donuts down the street from us to get me a cup of joe and a bagel -- he stood in line for 25 minutes behind a gaggle of cheerleaders and cheerleeder moms all ordering their triple-whip vanilla Coolattas (what a way to get your game-face on, kids!). But the mall -- oh, the mall. It was packed to the hilt with teens and pre-teens in cheerleading uniforms, complete with sparkly ribbons in their hair and sparkly makeup on their eyes. They were excited, happy, shrieking and laughing as they ran around in the mall, bumping into passers-by without so much as a by-your-leave.

Am I the only one who finds images like this highly distressing?

Honestly. How old could she be? Am I terribly prudish to think it's vastly inappropriate for a girl years away from puberty to be wearing such revealing clothing, especially in the context of an activity that traditionally marginalizes women? What if I told you that I saw a little girl today who could not have possibly been older than 3 wearing an outfit that was nearly identical to this one? I suppose I'm generally not in favor of this kind of clothing for women, so maybe my opinion is not based on objective reasoning.

The thing is that I feel conflicted when it comes to the sport of cheerleading in general. There's no arguing with the following facts about cheerleading: it promotes athleticism, healthy competition, teamwork and team spirit among young women, and self-discipline. At the same time, the role of the female cheerleading team as "support" for the more primary male sports teams has not really diminished. I can a little more easily get behind these cheerleading competitions which are more focused on the athletics and the team. But even these still contain all the trappings of the old-guard cheerleading; that is, that the girls' bodies and faces are there to be showcased. Honestly, is a short skirt and a shirt that's likely to ride up over your boobs really the outfit that a woman would choose first to be most practical in this kind of athletic event? No, of course not -- these outfits are designed to be pleasing to the male observer or receiver of the cheering.

On the one hand, I try to bear in mind that true empowerment for women comes when women are able to choose the activities, clothing, etc. that they truly want, without judgement from men or women. So if that means that a woman wants to be a stay at home mom, a cheerleader, or a diplomat, she should be able to do so without being judged as either "too girly" or "too man-ish." On the other hand, I really think women - and I include myself here - need to continuously look honestly into their hearts about why they make the choices they do. Do you dress in a tank top and boy-short underwear to go to the club because you honestly feel your best that way? Or do you do it because you feel it will make you more pleasing to someone else? And if it's the latter, then at least own that, and admit that that is what you truly want, rather than trying to act like you do it to be empowered. We're all allowed to make choices, but let's be honest about why we choose the things we do.

-----

On a slightly related note, tonight is, of course, the SuperBowl, and I couldn't be more excited. I will not, sadly, be able to watch most of the game, since I will be working at the Empire Revue. However, I will be keeping up with the score and rooting all the way for the Patriots. After spending my youth watching the Pats lose, and lose, and lose, year after year, this season has been uber-exciting. I'm a worrier, so naturally I'm worried something will happen to keep my team from the title and the record, but overall I feel pretty good about the game, and I think we're gonna win it!!

Gooooooooooooooo Patriots!!! *does a split leap in the air with pom-poms*

"i am sick and sullen." antony and cleopatra: i, iii

2008-01-14T11:21:00.000-05:00

This is not what the beginning of a vacation should look like.

So, here's the scenario: It's Monday morning. I'm on vacation for the first time in years. I wake up to discover that the scratchy throat I've been feeling with a sense of dread for the last 4 days has blossomed into a beautiful, chest-wrenching cough. Already pretty awesome, right? Today it's sort of morphed into a coughing-nose-dripping-aching-shoulders mess, complete with a pile of kleenex to back it up.

Well one of the things I promised myself I would do this week was take care of some administrative tasks I've been putting off, and I reserved yesterday to do this. I needed to get a new driver's license, as my New Mexico license had expired. In order to do this, I needed my social security card. Problem is, my social security card went missing somewhere between here and NM or possibly NY. So I knew I was going to have to make a stop at two governmental agencies, and was bracing myself for it.

One of the things I didn't really count on was the weather. There was this "big storm" coming through the region Sunday night. Now, I don't get all up in arms about the weather, because the fact is, I live in a region that is known to get a lot of snow, and I just feel like we should be used to the snow; we work around it, assuming we're not getting like 2 feet of snow with icy particles intermixed. Yesterday we got, like, maybe 2 or 3 inches. That's nothing, that's just a small inconvenience, in my book. You know the storm is coming, set your alarm a half hour earlier, get up and scrape your car and get to work on time. If I wasn't on vacation this week that's what I'd have been doing. Well, I'd have been trudging to an early bus, at any rate.

But apparently I'm the only one who thinks this. The social security office is right around the block from me, and is scheduled to open at 9am on weekdays. So at about twenty past nine, I put on my boots and coat and hat and mittens and trudged down there. There was a line of about 15 people outside the building. I poked my head into the building and asked the security guard if this was the building to get a new social security card, and he said "Yep, but they're opening an hour late today because of the weather; ten o'clock." Now, just for the record, I checked all the closures and delays listings on the local news sites and there was no mention of any governmental offices being closed, so it's not like I didn't do my homework.

Those jerks made us all stand out in the weather that was so bad that it apparently warranted a delayed opening, waiting for them to show up to work. Sooo. Laaaame. Here I was hacking and coughing, meanwhile there's a bunch of people who had to drag their kids with them because the schools were all closed (!), so the kids are all freezing, there's a bunch of old people out there in the line, shivering and huddling together ... it was madness. At one point a security guard came out and asked if everyone was in line for the Social Security office (there are other offices in the building that were apparently open), and upon hearing that we were, he started to close the door, we were like "wait wait wait, aren't you going to let us in, it's nearly ten now!" He actually laughed and said "uh, no." I yelled out "you need to get these people in here; it's freezing and we've got kids and elderly out here!" "Yeah!" some other people shouted. I'm such an instigator. Well it didn't matter because we still stood out there until ten past ten, when the office was "ready."

Surprisingly, though, the rest of the day went surprisingly smoothly. I was in the actual Social Security office for all of 15 minutes. Then, V. and I headed down to the DMV for our drivers' licenses, by bus. The trip to and from the DMV, including the time it took us to get two licenses, took us, no joke, 1 hour, flat. And I should mention that the bus ride was about 20 minutes. My fragile little mind was completely blown.

Anyway. So I did some productive stuff and now I'm laying in bed, feeling crap. I really hope this thing clears up so I can enjoy some semblance of my recreational time. If not - oh well, at least I'm getting to rest.

"let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm" king lear: ii, iv

2007-12-13T16:14:00.000-05:00

The view from my window this evening:

You can't really see the snow, but generally that building in the background is clear as day; the fogginess is actually snow.

I actually love stormy days like this. There's nothing any of us can do about it but deal with it, and somehow that appeals to me. I had something I was supposed to do this afternoon, and it got postponed, and what are ya gonna do?

" 'tis a good dog" merry wives of windsor: i, i

2007-12-13T15:39:00.000-05:00

If you have not already seen this video entitled "The Barney Cam: HOLIDAY IN THE NATIONAL PARKS," I cannot stress enough how important it is that you immediately go and view it. (The link to the video is on the right side of the page, where you choose the format you want.)

Originally I was going to just post this without comment, allowing it to speak for itself. But then about halfway through, I started having some questions. Questions like, "Is Tony Blair's job search really going so poorly that he needs to take this kind of work?"

And, "How long did Laura have to argue with the Twins before they agreed to do this thing?"

And, "why is our Director of National Parks British?" (not that I have anything against the Brits - I love them, actually, but it seems odd to me that there's no American qualified for the job.)

And, "Are things going well enough in the world that our President has time for this kind of thing now? Why didn't I know that?"

And perhaps most importantly, "Alan Jackson? Seriously? Alan Jackson??"

It will be difficult for you to get through this whole video, but try, because it's important that you see the "blooper" that appears after the credits.

I'd love to know what the 4 readers of this blog think of all of this.

"thou liest, most ignorant monster" the tempest: iii, ii

2007-12-12T18:15:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in over a month, but reading this article on CNN left me so astonished that I had to put it up.

NEW YORK (CNN) -- A Muslim man jumped to the aid of three Jewish subway riders after they were attacked by a group of young people who objected to one of the Jews saying "Happy Hanukkah," a spokeswoman for the three said Wednesday.

The New York Police Department's Hate Crimes Task Force is investigating Friday's incident on the Q train.

Friday's altercation on the Q train began when somebody yelled out "Merry Christmas," to which rider Walter Adler responded, "Happy Hanukkah," said Toba Hellerstein.

"Almost immediately, you see the look in this guy's face like I've called his mother something," Adler told CNN affiliate WABC.

Two women who were with a group of 10 rowdy people then began to verbally assault Adler's companions with anti-Semitic language, Hellerstein said.

One member of the group allegedly yelled, "Oh, Hanukkah. That's the day that the Jews killed Jesus," she said.

When Adler tried to intercede, a male member of the group punched him, she said.

Another passenger, Hassan Askari -- a Muslim student from Bangladesh -- came to Adler's aid, and the group began physically and verbally assaulting him, Hellerstein said. (continued)

"Oh, Hanukkah. That's the day the Jews killed Jesus." Seriously??

SERIOUSLY???

Look, I'm not religious, but all in all, I think I have a pretty upbeat moral outlook. And one thing that seems clear to me here is that, if, when uttering a seasonal greeting that generally implies good wishes, you are so easily turned to hate and bile by someone else uttering an alternative seasonal greeting with similar good wishes, you weren't truly using your seasonal greeting for its intended purpose. You were using it to be an asshole.

Here's what I seriously just cannot get my head around, and maybe it's because I don't believe in any "The One" true religion myself: Even if you believe you have The One Truth, why would someone believing that their differing belief is the One True one be so threatening to you? Is it because you're unsure of your own beliefs? Is it because you're a fucking moron? I'm leaning heavily towards option B.

And furthermore, if you're going to be an intolerant asshole, why not at least be well-informed about it, and not yell out a dumbass, idiotic comment such as the one about Hanukkah being the day the Jews killed Jesus. That's just plain thick, on every level.

In the end, it just depresses the shit out of me to be trying to enjoy the Goodwill Toward Men part of the secular version of Christmas I observe and to read about people - people who supposedly actually believe the other parts of this holiday - being such effing pricks.

"commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors" trolius and cressida: i, iii

2007-10-31T22:38:00.000-04:00

Happy Halloween, kids. This short use to scare the willies out of me as a kid. Enjoy!

"a strange fellow here" pt. 2 troilus and cressida: iii, iii

2007-10-30T00:01:00.000-04:00

On Friday V. asked me if I could take care of going down to the Apple store near us and picking up the new OS, Leopard, for our computers. No problem. It's a little bit of a big deal, I thought, so I'll get there a touch before it becomes available at six, like at 5:45.

So I arrive at 5:45 to find a line of people that is no joke like 200 people long. At first I thought it was only 50 people long until I looked a little more carefully to see that it had wound its way around a mall kiosk selling Dead Sea Salt beauty products (their employees' sales tactic seems to be to wait until a girl walks by and then timidly approach her, saying "Can I ask you a question?" I've never found out what the question they want to ask is because I usually say something like "oh, no, sorry, I'm in a big hurry," even if I'm walking at a snail's pace).

But I digress. So I join this line and stand there for a few minutes. The dude in front of me turns around and looks at me a couple times and gives me a little smile; I respond with a polite tight-lipped smile of my own. Finally, he addresses me.

"Here to buy the new OS?"

I look at him for a moment to see if he's for real. I am, after all, standing in a line fully 200 fricking people long, a line of people who are ostensibly all here for the same, single purpose of purchasing the new OS.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm standing in line," I say, finally.

He nods. Then a moment of silence, and then it suddenly strikes me to return the question. "Are you?"

"No," he says, matter-of-factly. "I'm gonna check it out, but I'm not going to buy it tonight."

I look at him for a moment in bewilderment.

"I'm just here for the experience," he explains.

Right, of course. The experience of standing in a line of 200 people for 45 minutes on a Friday night. What else is there to do?

"a strange fellow here" troilus and cressida: iii, iii

2007-10-28T21:04:00.000-04:00

The All Children's Theatre, which I mentioned earlier, got some nice press in today's local paper. It's great to see such a nice write-up. The print edition had some nice other photos as well.

Things are coming together nicely for the Gala. I have my first rehearsal for the Empire Revue tomorrow evening after work. I actually got a little ahead on my schoolwork last night. It's been a pretty good couple of days from that standpoint. And it's finally feeling like fall. I think I might make a stew later this week. MMM MM good!

I was waiting for a bus this afternoon after class; I had changed into my street clothes and looked, I don't know, ok, I guess. And this dude walks by me, this young dude, like 22 maybe, and goes "Excuse me, miss, could I get your number?" ("Excuse me, miss"?! I guess at least he didn't say "ma'am".)

I just looked at him somewhat incredulously. He looked back at me with this almost shy look on his face, like he was really hoping this forthright approach would be effective. He goes "nah, you don't want to, huh." "No, not really." "Ok, have a good one." And he sauntered off.

I just don't understand what goes through people's heads sometimes.

"this is mere madness" hamlet: v, i

2007-10-18T16:50:00.000-04:00

Here's how I know that I'm not quite right in the head all the time.

This morning I text messaged a friend I knew was dealing with something unpleasant. "How're you doing?" I texted.

About 5 minutes later I got a text message back:
"Fine thanks."

And rather than thinking to myself "Oh, good, she's 'fine thanks'," what I thought was "Is she mad at me? 'Fine thanks'? What does that mean? I think she's pissed at me for something. Did I say something wrong??"

I somehow managed to read into the phrase "Fine, thanks." In a text message.

But wait, it gets better:

So this afternoon, I texted someone else. I said "How about a movie tonight?"

Ten minutes later I received the following:
"Sure."

"'SURE'?!" I thought. "What have I done to make him mad?"

I don't know what answer I would have preferred. Maybe "yeah, that sounds fun" would have made me feel less insecure. But I don't know. There's a distinct possibility I would have read something into that too. "'That sounds fun?' I think he's being sarcastic!"

I'm going to go ahead and chalk it up to stress. I'm kind of behind on my homework for school this week, but besides that, I am working on a couple of projects for a benefit gala I'm on the planning comittee for, which I am, of course, behind on (this is me we're talking about here). In addition to that, I am also gearing up to stage manage a monthly show at AS220 called the Empire Revue, and as much as I am looking forward to it, I'm quite nervous as well. Plus I also just became a board member for the All Children's Theater, a group I was a member of all through middle and high school, and so I'm starting to think about all that that will entail. Not to mention that I need to start pulling something together for my school externship, and the fact that the holidays are fast approaching and I am going to get slammed at work here pretty soon.

All in all, I'm not that surprised that my mind is a little cuckoo right now.

Still. I see no need to read between the lines in text messages that are, let's face it, less than one line long. There's no "between" there.

This Australian PSA made me feel a lot better though:

"to hazard all our lives in one small boat!" king henry vi, part i: iv, vi

2007-10-06T21:18:00.000-04:00

Auuugh I just find it hard to get on here and write much lately. There's always some kind of skullduggery going on at the bus stop or on the bus that I could write about, but after awhile, it just gets dull. Blah blah blah, agressive driver. Blah blah blah, disruptive passenger. All right, all right, we get it, there's wackos on the bus!!

What else is new. I've been taking a rowing class, which has been a lot of fun. The class is a gift I got from V. for my birthday. It's been a great experience and something I've wanted to try for quite a while. If you live in a town with a river where you can learn to row, I recommend it!! V. and I can't seem to help talking about "Oxford Blues" more these days though; that's an unexpected side effect of the activity. Go figure.

Oh, I don't want to forget to give a big shoutout to my sis down in ABQ who had a birthday and got engaged all in a 2 day span! Congratulations!!!

So, I've got class tomorrow so that's pretty awesome. Surprisingly, I've actually been keeping up with my work so far. It's like I'm a different person. I don't even know mySELF anymore. So it's 9:30 on a Saturday and my big plans for the evening involve 1) getting ready to go to bed and then 2) going to bed. Let's hope the scoundrels down on the street engaging in WaterFire revelry will cooperate and not be too boistrous as I attempt to sleep fitfully. Based on what I hear outside right now, things are not looking up for The Kid.

Meanwhile there is a giant fish-death happening here in Providence, I guess due to the drought we've been having. Apparently there's not enough oxygen in the water and so the fish are all just kicking the bucket left and right. This afternoon I watched probably 5 or 6 fish depart this world right before my eyes in the span of about 15 minutes, and there were dozens more floating belly-up all around them. It was a pretty depressing side note to an otherwise pleasant walk along the river. Oh, also, the super-creepy hot October weather (mid 80s!) put a bit of a damper on things. I don't think I've ever been uncomfortably warm wearing only a tank top and jeans in October before this year. Just FYI, if I see any birds flying North instead of South in the next week, I'm going to be packing a bag and heading for the hills.

"the play's the thing" hamlet: ii, ii

2007-08-31T23:17:00.000-04:00

Here's a catalog of some of the interactions I've had in the last couple of days. They will appear, in an homage to my favorite person, V., in the form of short plays.

1. The Watchtower

Scene: The Kennedy Plaza outdoor bus terminal. Monday morning; commuters are starting to line up at their various boarding areas. A thirtyish woman dressed in chef's pants and a tshirt, Nicky, stands slightly apart from the other waiting people in her boarding area. She is on her cell phone to her mother, speaking quietly about something that seems important and emotional. Her words cannot be heard by those around her, but she is clearly on the phone.

An older woman, Serena, approaches. She is carrying leaflets and magazines.

SERENA (to Nicky): Would you like a copy of The Watchtower, dear?
NICKY (into her phone): Excuse me just a sec, Mom. (To Serena) I'm sorry, not now, I'm on the phone.

Nicky returns to her call. Serena's face, which has until now been a mask of pleasantness, twists into an ugly grimace.

SERENA (brandishing the magazine, agressively): Take it!!
NICKY (just as agressively): No, I don't want it!
SERENA (shaking the magazine at Nicky so that it hits her hand): TAKE IT!!
NICKY: NO! Not now! (moving away from Serena, who wanders off down the street, her face rearranged back to the pleasant expression) JESUS fucking CHRIST!! Fucking Jehovahs!!

BLACKOUT

2. Once You Pop ...

Scene: The bus into downtown Providence. Nicky, a thirtyish woman wearing chef's pants and a tshirt, sits along a rear bench seat. She has a few grocery bags with her; she's picked up a few things for supper after her long day at work, as well as a snack of potato chips.

The bus stops. A young man, Jeffrey, boards the bus and sits on the opposite side of the bench Nicky is on. He sprawls out and stretches his arm across the back of the seat; he is not, strictly speaking, encroaching on Nicky's personal space, but he's treading a fine line, considering he is a perfect stranger to her.

Nicky reaches into her shopping bag and pulls out her partially consumed potato chips, and pops a few into her mouth.

Jeffrey reaches over and taps Nicky on the shoulder; it's easy for him to do so since his hand is already up on her seat back.

JEFFREY (to Nicky): Yo, could I get some of those?
NICKY (taken aback): I-I'm sorry??
JEFFREY: Could I get some of those? (indicates the chips)
NICKY: Wwellll, there's not very much left .... (she trails off at this point, meaning to indicate that since there is not very much left, she doesn't intend to share any of it with seemingly well-nourished boys.)
JEFFREY: Oh, that's aiight; I'll just take the rest.
NICKY: (taken even more aback): I'm sorry??
JEFFREY: I'll just take the rest.
NICKY: (near spluttering in disbelief): Well, actually, no, I don't think you'll just take the rest because this is my snack and I'm hungry and I'm going to eat the rest!!

Mercifully, the bus pulls up to the stop at this point. The passengers all stand and begin to de-bus, Nicky among them, although she is still one stop away from her destination. She exits the bus, not looking behind her once.

BLACKOUT

3. Strangers in the Night

SCENE: The Mall. Friday night; the place is loaded with adolescents. They're loud, boistrous, obnoxious -- all the things that make a childless 30-year-old-woman sigh a breath of relief.

A thirtyish woman, Nicky, wearing a tank top and jeans, approaches the escalator. It can be admitted that she looks cute, but no cuter than usual. She just threw this outfit on quickly before leaving the house for a brief errand or two, which included the decidedly unglamorous tasks of buying running shorts and toilet paper.

As Nicky boards the escalator, a young man, Chris, probably no more than 20, boards behind her. They ride in silence for a moment.

CHRIS: (quietly) How YOU doin'?

He speaks so quietly, in fact, that Nicky assumes she is not the one being spoken to, and continues staring ahead.

CHRIS: (a little louder) I like your glasses, those are nice.

Nicky knows now that it is her he is speaking to, as she is wearing a pair of glasses that she regularly gets complimented on. However, she thinks it best not to encourage this young man, and continues to ignore him.

CHIRS: (definitely louder now) And your butt. I like that, too.

Enough is enough. Nicky turns to face Chris.

NICKY: (incredulously) Are you talking to ME??
CHIRS: (grinning sheepishly) Yeah!
NICKY: (even more incredulously) Do I KNOW you???
CHRIS: Yeah!
NICKY: No. You don't. You don't know me. That's not an appropriate way to speak to someone you don't know.
CHRIS: (backpedalling, in a slightly regretful tone) I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make friends.
NICKY: ...?....
CHRIS: ......
NICKY: Yeah, I don't think that's what you're trying to do.

Nicky turns back around and walks the rest of the way down the escalator, shaking her head in extreme disbelief.

BLACKOUT

"by'r lady, thirty years." romeo and juliet: i, v

2007-08-25T22:22:00.000-04:00

Well I'll be damned if it isn't my 30th birthday in about an hour and a half.

What a strange (and usually wonderful) ride it's been so far.

....
Not, as you can see, a lot of blogging went on over the summer. It hasn't been a particularly interesting summer. There have been a few things I've wanted to write about but haven't yet ... I may yet still do so. School starts up in a couple weeks and no doubt I will want to procrastinate.

Tonight I was riding the bus with V. and there was a lady passed out drunk across from us. She was rather rotund and very well endowed in the chest, so that as she fell forward with the motion of the bus her face was flopping down right into her cleavage. HOT. I was seriously concerned that she was going to suffocate in her own boobs.

Last night I guess the kids were all back in town for college starting up, so there was all manner of nonsense going on downtown here. The nightclub next door was hopping with all the little striped-button-down-American-Eagle-shirt-and-frayed-bluejeans-wearing frat boys lining up, checking out the girls, who, at this point, are simply not putting on pants -- I can only assume for ease-of-access. I wish I was exaggerating, but I swear to you that I am not joking at all when I say I saw more than one girl wearing one of those stupid-looking tunic-style tank tops with no pants, just boy-short-style underwear, and wedge shoes. My soul shrunk a little.

So apparently I'm thirty and a cranky old person now. That's cool, at least I have an excuse for being cranky now.

"this music mads me; let it sound no more" king richard ii: v, v

2007-06-25T22:32:00.000-04:00

I'm back, baby, and better than ever! It's been a while but here I am! Moved in, almost settled, finished with school all the way until September ..... yeee haaaahhhhhhh!

I do love the Downcity lifestyle. Little old PVD is getting there, it really is. Saturday afternoon I found myself NOT to be the only person poking around on Westminister St.; there was quite a nice little flow of people to and fro. The Providence Gay Pride Parade zoomed right in front of our apartment and lots of good times were had. I'm a nice little Saturday morning walk away from Nick's on Broadway.

Last evening I found myself back on the East Side for a little while; I was laying out on the Brown Green, reading, when I heard some music coming from down the street. I walked over to investigate and found these guys warming up. Then they formed up and headed over to what looked like an opening barbeque party for the Brown summer high school program. They were fun and pretty good too.

When I got home, I was lying asleep in bed - blissfully asleep, I think it should be noted - when I suddenly heard on the street below me the same now familiar semi-cacophonous sounds of a brass band, penetrating right through my closed window. I glanced bleary-eyed at the clock; the numbers 1:30 swam before my eyes.

I was ... unthrilled, to say the least.

Always something unexpected in the City-State.

"cooling of the air with sighs" the tempest: i, ii

2007-06-02T13:08:00.000-04:00

I feel like such a hypocrite right now.

I don't own a TV. I don't own a car. Blah blah blah, I eat organic and local. Pftthb. The fact is, I am sitting in my apartment, positively basking in the Central Air. It's a hot and hazy and humid day out there. And I'm not suffering. I'm sitting back, sipping on a nice cold Sanbitter, listening to the Pet Shop Boys and getting ready to prep for class tomorrow, and dammit, I'm enjoying the temperate room.

So freaking sue me.

"some say he's mad," macbeth: v, ii

2007-05-31T20:21:00.000-04:00

I was walking home from work yesterday, and a dude riding a bicycle on the sidewalk came up behind me fast and yelled derisively "Look out, hippie!" Which, as anyone who knows me can attest, is an odd thing to call me, as I think I'm not really on the hippie end of the spectrum. I was wearing chef's pants, which maybe looked like something else to him (some kind of hippie pattern maybe?), but that's really all I can think of.

So we're in the new place, officially now. I mean, everything we own is in the new place. That's about the extent of it, though. It's pretty much a mattress and a bunch of still-packed boxes and us.

I'm kind of tired of nutcases. There, I said it. But then I think that I should be more compassionate; surely no one wants to be a nutcase. But there seem to be a lot more of them out and about now that the warm weather has arrived, and I have to confess that I sometimes just wish I could walk down the street without incident.

Yesterday on the bus in to work a dude was coughing (a lot) right behind me, and I could just tell from the lack of muffling that he wasn't covering his mouth. I was about to turn around and say something or at least shoot him a dirty look, but then he started mumbling to himself and it sounded kind of like he was speaking in tongues, so I decided to just ride it out. Sometimes better to let these things slide. Although in this day and age of douchebags knowingly traveling on public modes of transportation with TB, it's sort of a wash when it comes to personal safety.

"'tis no time to play now" romeo and juliet: iv, v

2007-05-19T20:05:00.000-04:00

I just watched the Sanbitter video like 3 times rapid-fire. It's mesmerizing. Oh, and I have studying I'm supposed to be doing, so that makes it more transfixing.

I was walking past this really seedy bar this afternoon just as the Preakness was finishing up. I heard this guy yelling at the top of his lungs "Get up there! Get up there!" and then he cheered so loudly I could hear him down the block. I guess he had a little bit of money on the winning horse. I can only hope for his sake it's enough to upgrade to a different bar; the one he was in advertised in the window that they had no public restrooms.

Oh, also, I just read this headline: "Study: Vitamin overuse could lead to cancer." Nice."A new study from the National Cancer Institute suggests a link between heavy use of multivitamins and increased risk for prostate cancer." Nutrition is getting to be more and more of a lose-lose proposition.

I just watched the Sanbitter video again. The guy's wearing a piano tie. It's awesome. It's awesome in the "it makes no sense" kind of way. If I understood Italian it would probably just be lame, but since Italian is just about as decipherable as Klingon for me, it's just pleasantly nonsensical.

And much better than learning the reason why glycerine is added to rolled fondant. (The reason is to make it more pliable and to prevent it from cracking and tearing when used.)

And with that ..... off I go.

"a pleasing cordial" king richard iii: ii, i

2007-05-15T21:48:00.000-04:00

I'm excited to be moving, but, ugh, is there anything worse than moving? Packing. The pits. There's nothing for it but to just grab a box and start putting stuff in it. Try to keep organized, but by the end, there's a good chance that everything will get smushed together. The place we're moving to is smaller, too, so we're also supposed to purge as we go, and that makes it tougher too, or at any rate, more time consuming. My worry is that at first I'll be holding on to things sentimentally that I don't really want to keep, but that in the end, as the clock ticks down I'll start ruthlessly ditching things I will regret getting rid of in the long run. On the bright side, the clock's already ticking down, so maybe I'll just keep an even keel.

My favorite beverage at the moment is Pellegrino's Sanbitter (that link is great if you, uh, speak or read Italian; actually, it's pretty great even if you don't; I highly recommend clicking on the "videoclip" section). The bottle is cute as a button, sure, and that appeals to me, as does the ruby red syrupyness of the drink.

But more than that, it has this great sweet/bitter combo that I just love. It's a nonalcoholic version of Campari. Yum. Plus it gives you a SWEET red tongue when you drink it!

"fair flower, untimely pluck'd" various poetry: x

2007-05-10T17:01:00.000-04:00

There are some beautiful flowering trees around the place where I work, and they are in full bloom right now.

Imagine my dismay that when I arrived this morning to work, I saw a crew of landscapers taking a chainsaw to several of these trees, cutting them down a branch at a time, then going right for the trunks. The pink petals were all around us in the air, churned up by the vibrations of the saw. If it had been two days from now, these would have been green trees, and while I hate watching trees being cut down, it wouldn't have been as heart-wrenching as this was, watching these beautiful pink branches at the height of their bloom being chopped down like they were nothing.

Put me in a rotten mood, I can tell you.

On the bright side, I got new glasses this week, and they are wicked cool.

"the majesty and power of law and justice" king henry iv, part ii: v, ii

2007-05-05T11:49:00.000-04:00

I thought I'd share with you what kind of state Rhode Island is.

If you walk past the building that houses the Rhode Island Department of the Attorney General

You'll see an inspiring quote to the right of the door:

A quote from a comic book author. On an engraved placard. I just think that's great.

On the bright side, at least our courthouse doesn't have a monument to the Ten Commandments in it.

"the wretched animal heaved forth such groans" as you like it: ii, i

2007-04-25T19:29:00.000-04:00

This morning I awoke early as the sun poured through my bedroom window. I opened my eyes for a few moments, enjoying the Spring light, and then looked at the clock, pleased to note that I had quite a while left before the alarm would go off. I closed my eyes, a slight smile on my face as I prepared to sink back into sleep.

"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SKREEEE SKREEEEE SKREEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

What tha???

"SKREEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Dude, what the hell is that??"
V was awake now, too. "I don't know." ..... "But whatever it is, it's not doing well."

"SKREEEEEEE SKREEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEE!!" rustle rustle rustle
"I can see the branches outside the window rustling."
"Are our screens all in?"

......
"SKREEEEEEEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
rustle rustle rustle

"SKREEE SKREEE!"
.....

"SKREEE!"
....

....

...

.......

....................
"Huh."
"Huh."

----

In a later discussion, we decided that it was probably an oppossum meeting an untimely death, based on V's unfortunate observation of a previous oppossum death (by car). I wonder what kind of animal it met that demise with, however, as 'possums are fairly big and mean, and the dogs in our neighborhood are small and hors d'ouerve-sized, and would probably make a tasty snack for any 'possum worth its salt. I'm guessing it might have been an owl or something. Thing is, we live in a city; it's not like we live out in the sticks where hearing animal encounters is normal, so it was a bit of an odd beginning to the day.

---

In other news, be sure to check out V's new post on Six Sentences. Good stuff, as always.

"...POP..."! hamlet: v, ii

2007-04-23T17:05:00.000-04:00

Finally, the flowers and leaves are starting to POP!!

Spring. I have a love-hate relationship with it. Because much of the time, if I really think about it, Spring is fairly shitty: rainy, raw, muddy. But days like today, the day the flowers POP, the day the air feels like a soothing bath, the day the sunshine is finally warm, the first day you smell that hot sidewalk smell mingled with that muddy earth smell and the smell of every plant and tree waking up and waving in the breeze .... it's just so fucking gorgeous.

Anyway, that day is today, and the fact is, nothing on a day like today can make me feel sad. Even though I was dealt a minor disappointment during the day today, my attitude was magically transformed from the usual "why me?" to the much more desireable "que sera, sera!"

I feel like I can handle anything on a day like today.

"we shall remain in friendship" antony and cleopatra: ii, ii

2007-04-22T21:10:00.000-04:00

Congratulate me -- I just got a 94 on a very rigorous practical exam in my chocolates class. It was very stressful, but in the end I feel like I kept a very cool head. There were a couple points where I had little episodes -- like "Do I even remember the first thing I need to do to temper chocolate??" But my cooler side prevailed, just kept my head down and kept moving.

Yesterday I caught up with some awesome friends I haven't seen or even really talked to in years. What felt especially great about it was that after just a few minutes, I felt just as comfortable with them as I ever did in high school. I'm really, really bad at keeping in touch with people, even people I love and want to be in touch with. I always kick myself for letting myself get so out of touch with people whose friendship brings me warmth and happiness, and I always vow to not let it keep happening. I hope this weekend will be a new leaf for me.

----
I feel like I want to close out with something really awesome and funny.
Oh, how about this:

"this happy day" julius caesar: v, v

2007-04-13T16:16:00.000-04:00

Just because it's Friday the 13th doesn't mean there isn't awesomeness afoot.

Today is

THIS gal's birthday.

As you can see, Amy is a gal who knows how to have a good time.

This pic was taken the last time I was able to spend her birthday with her, and it must be said that it was in a much warmer climate than the one either of us is in right now.

Happy Birthday, Ames!

"live cleanly as a nobleman should do." king henry iv, part i: v, iv

2007-04-05T23:39:00.000-04:00

That's me passing out from cleaning.

You know, if I would just, say, keep up with things around the house, it wouldn't be like this.

But, as a wise man once said, "I am what I am, and that's all what I am."

I wonder if I will ever be a grownup. All the grownups I know have a place for everything in their houses, or at least, it always looks like they do. Organizational systems baffle me. Drawers always fill with junk, bins are never used for their expressed purpose but instead as catch-alls. I start out with such good intentions; I even buy and read magazines like "Real Simple" and think, yeah, hey, that's a good idea, I should do that! It never happens.

Now the place is pretty clean, pretty tidy, and I have to say, it is gratifying to look at a tidy home. But tomorrow, I'll come home and I'll have something in my hands that doesn't have a place in the house, and it will get put on the counter. Then my shoes will come off, and will stay wherever I was standing when I took them off. Then I'll do homework and when I'm done there will be papers that don't quite make it back into my bookbag. Then it will just snowball. I can promise myself all I like that it won't happen. But it will.

Anyway, it's done now and I can relax.

---
It seems tacky to me that someone is already auctioning Anna Nicole's old diaries. I struggled with myself over whether to read the article about it, and in the end, the devil on my shoulder won out and I read it. It was depressing. I shouldn't even be writing here about it. More than anything, Anna Nicole made me sad. She was an easy target to make fun of because she was so outrageous, but most of the time she seemed like she was just crying out for someone to tell her "you're ok."

---
Well, it's getting to be yawn-thirty here, so guess it's time to hit the sack. Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight light, and the red balloon.

"she was a vixen when she went to school" a midsummer night's dream: iii, ii

2007-04-01T18:28:00.000-04:00

Today was a warm early spring day. Even now, as the afternoon wanes, the air is temperate and drivers are cruising the streets with their windows open, perhaps blasting a hip new tune. You know, like ..... Gangsta's Paradise??

Seriously, someone just drove by my house blasting that song! It's more than 10 years old! The kids in college now were 9 when it came out.

Just got back from class. All things being equal, it was about as good a day in class as I could hope for -- I was lucky enough to not have any trouble tempering either dark or milk chocolate and was able to get all my production done very efficiently. My products turned out pretty nice. A good day.

Now if I could just wave my wand and have the bathroom clean itself. *sigh*.

"such sweet-complaining grievance" the two gentlemen of verona: iii, ii

2007-03-31T20:03:00.000-04:00

I would really prefer it if the portmanteau-word "ginormous" would disappear completely from the American lexicon. I can't explain why, but it irritates the hell out of me, almost as much as hearing the Austin-Powers-inspired phrase "YEEAH, Baby!" exclaimed by a douchetastic frat-boy. I guess I don't feel as though the word ginormous adds any value or color to the language; in fact, if anything, it feels to me as though it detracts from the language.

I'm sitting at the bar at a tea shop right now, and I am loathe to confess this but I need to get it off my chest -- instead of studying for the last hour an a half as I intended to do when I came in here, I spent it purusing a copy of JANE magazine that someone had left here. That's an hour and a half of my life that will never be restored. I just feel fortunate that I was able to stop myself before delving into the LUCKY magazine that was underneath it. Man, it is like eating M&Ms.

Meanwhile, I am trying to tamp down all the knowlege I already have in my head about tempering chocolate so I can make room for more. As soon as I think I have learned all that I could need to know to succeed in this class, more information is presented. The class is extremely interesting and I find the work supremely gratifying, but it is pretty intense, to say the least.

On the bright side, I feel pretty relaxed today, and am hoping I will have a nice sleep through the night and will wake up tomorrow feeling ready to go.

Well, back to the books.

endeavour thyself to sleep twelfth night: iv, ii

2007-03-24T20:53:00.000-04:00

This is the crappiest part of the week for me. I think. Actually I'm torn. It's one of two times: It's either 9pm on a Saturday night, when I am at home, trying futilely to settle down to sleep so I can get up at 5:30am for my all-day Sunday class. Or it's Monday at 7am, when I wake up and remember I have to go to work, and I haven't had a day off when you consider school and work since March 9 and won't be having one until April 8 (thank the gods for Easter, even though I don't observe it).

I shouldn't complain. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I mean, I'm taking advantage of an opportunity not everyone has, to go to school and learn a trade and a craft that I really enjoy. But I'm still fucking exhausted, and I'm tired of Saturday nights being such a bummer.

Oh well. Time marches on. Each word I type is that much less time I can spend in the throes of my once-a-week insomnia. The one night I really need to get to sleep is the one night I never can. I get too nervous that I won't wake up in time and so I can never fall asleep. It's pathological, really.

"an apple, cleft in two, is not more twin than these two creatures" twelfth night: v, i

2007-03-06T17:47:00.000-05:00

So, I have to confess that I did look for photos of Boy George when he was doing his community service in NYC, picking up trash. I didn't feel good about it, though -- he's a bit of a wash-up at this point, he looks like hell these days, and more than anything it just seemed sad to me. However, I took pure glee in this one. Why? Because Naomi Campbell is not a wash-up, she's a spoiled brat who threw a cell phone while she was having a temper tantrum because something didn't go exactly her way. The article states that "she has blamed her temper on lingering resentment toward her father for abandoning her as a child." Get over it. It's sad and all that her father abandoned her, but it doesn't even register on the scale of acceptable excuses for assaulting at least three employees.

In other exciting news, I have joined the wireless revolution, and I am now typing to you from a brand spanking new MacBook. It's great. My favorite perk so far is that it has a built in camera with PhotoBooth, software that lets me take pictures using different cool filters such as this one:

Fun, right?

Oh, also, apparently I have a twin roaming around the city; according to V. she looks so much like me that people who know me have addressed her as if she was me before taking a second look and realizing that it's not in fact me. Now, I assume that since we are twins, one of us must be the evil twin, so I will assume, unless I meet her and it proves to be otherwise, that I am the evil twin.

Someone I work with speculated that if we ever did meet, it would create a tear in the space/time continuum and unmake the world. Maybe I'll stay in tonight, just in case.

"I writ at random, very doubtfully." the two gentlemen of verona: ii, i

2007-02-25T17:54:00.000-05:00

Suddenly, this year, I no longer care about the Oscars. Why might this be? I can remember a time when I wouldn't miss the awards shows -- any of them. And so far I haven't watched one this year. I don't think I even know who's nominated.

Meanwhile, in other awesomeness, it's supposed to snow again here. I shouldn't really complain, since we've seen almost no snow this year, but now I'm spoiled.

I am almost finished with the class I am taking; I had a practical exam today that went as well as could be expected, given the instructor's unrelenting criticism and insistence on standing over one while one is attempting to execute the most difficult parts of the day's assignments. I'll be glad when this one is over.

Anyway, that's all I've got right now.

Oh, I almost forgot; how do you suppose this guy lists this on his resume??

"why are you grown so rude?" a midsummer night's dream: iii, ii

2007-02-23T22:05:00.000-05:00

So I was at the grocery store, picking up a few necessities the other day. Fairly normal stuff, in my life:

- baking chocolate, for melting to practice writing in chocolate (for writing or drawing on pastries)
- deodorant, for keeping me so fresh and so clean clean
- tampons, for the usual reason

I got to the checkout, and it was just about 5pm, so it was busy, a line of people behind me. Now, I'm not the kind of person who is embarrassed to buy tampons; it is a fact of life and nothing to be embarassed about. Maybe it was marginally unfortunate that the same day I bought them I also bought chocolate and deodorant, but frankly, I wasn't thinking about it all that much; I needed what I needed. But the check out gal, upon getting to my order, actually stopped what she was doing and looked at me knowingly and said, "Awesome selection of products!" BE SERIOUS! C'mon, show a little discretion here, gal. I'm all for keeping it real, but mind your own damn business!

In other news of impoliteness, can anyone explain to me why anyone would go to a play and allow their cell phone to ring not once, not twice, but three times during the course of the show?? Things are getting out of hand.

"though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe" king richard ii: ii, i

2007-02-08T22:58:00.000-05:00

I wanted her to pull it together. Come to a realization, you know? Start taking better care of herself, now that she was a mom again, after losing her son. I thought it could happen; she could be the poster girl for Turning Things Around. She was out there, kind of a dumbass, trying to be the thing that she thought people wanted, pumping herself full of unhealthy chemicals, making poor decisions. But she was 39, it wasn't too late for her to have an epiphany about the direction her life was heading; so I believed. Guess I was wrong.

Not to say I admired her or necessarily felt sorry for her. But times like these, when I reflect on the life someone in the public eye who makes poor choices, like a model or an astronaut, I'm reminded of how we're all just doing the best we can. I make poor choices all the time - maybe not as spectacularly, maybe not on camera or with the end result of a restraining order, but I do. It's a struggle, making sound decisions, sometimes; we're such a muddled species. We know right from wrong but often Right doesn't "feel" right. Or it doesn't feel good, at any rate. Strange animals.

Anna Nicole: no doubt even in your death we haven't heard the last of you.

"the stars above us govern our conditions" king lear: iv, iii

2007-02-06T20:14:00.000-05:00

So by now, most of us have probably read about the Astronaut Love Triangle. Here are a few of the key points that stuck with me:

- The astronaut accused of the attempted kidnapping/murder/whatever it was she was going to do drove 900 miles to do it. That's NASA perseverence! (I guess when you've orbited the Earth 300 times, 900 miles starts to seem like a drive to the corner store.)
- "Inside a bag Nowak was carrying, the officer found a tan trench coat, a new steel mallet, a new folding knife with a 4-inch blade, 3 to 4 feet of rubber tubing, several large plastic garbage bags and about $600 in cash, the report said." That's the kind of preparedness we have come to expect from This Great Nation's aeronautical experts.
- "Inside the car, police found an a half dozen latex gloves, MapQuest directions from Houston to Orlando International Airport, e-mails from Shipman to Oefelein, diapers Nowak said she wore to reduce stops along the highway and a letter indicating how much she loved Oefelein." I don't think I need to elaborate on why this part stuck with me.

The woman in question is a married mother of 3. She and the man she was pursuing were on space missions together. This has Lifetime Movie of the Week written all over it. Seriously, it can't be far off. Is it wrong that my own version of the movie features Nowak, played by Courtney Cox, confronting the man, Bill Oefelein (played by Brent Spiner), and having a climatic final argument, and then driving to Kennedy Space Center, commandeering the Space Shuttle Atlantis, and blasting off, away from this crazy world, to the only place where she can truly be herself: Space.

I think it could work.

"contemplation of my travels" as you like it: iv, i

2007-02-02T22:29:00.000-05:00

If one makes one's final approach to Hell on a city bus, I think I know what that bus would be like, for I just stepped off of it.

I'll back up.

In Colonial days, there were two major port cities in what is now Rhode Island: Providence and Newport (though they were probably like "Providenfe" and "Newporte"). If I'm not mistaken, Newport was the primary one, but then Providence built up and became the main port for the colony. Newport and Providence now remain as sort of sister cities in this smallest of the states. Newport is a big summer city, but in the winter, not much is going on there. So in the winter, young folks who attend one of the schools in Newport might find themselves wanting to come into Providence for some Friday night revelry, and they might find themselves on the 10:00 bus from Newport to Providence in order to do so.

And in fact, so did I find myself on this bus on this very evening. I picked it up about halfway between Newport and Providence in the town where my parents live, not really thinking that there would be many people on the bus because there usually aren't at night. But tonight this was not the case.

First of all, I knew things weren't going to go well before I even got on the bus. I'm standing in the rain at the bus stop, which was clearly marked and well lit, and I see the bus approaching. Fast. Like, really fast - like, easily 50mph. Too fast to stop for me with any amount of safety awareness. So I put up my hand and wave it to indicate "I'm here and would like to board your bus, please," and I don't see the bus slowing down any, so my hand waving becomes more and more animated until the point where I am waving my arm fully extended back and forth very rapidly in a "Hey! Hey!! HEYYY!!" kind of way. As the bus breezes past me, I see the brake lights finally go on, and fully a block past me, the bus rolls to a screeching halt. I jog the block down the road and board the bus, and before I can say "good evening" to the beleaguered driver, I am greeted by a wall of sound. The bus is packed -- packed -- with kids. I say "kids" -- they may have been 21 or so, since they were all clearly headed out to the bars; however, since I turned 29 maybe 21 is starting to look like 19. What? Why would I even type that out??

Anyway, the bus is packed, and there is one lone seat all the way at the back of the bus, on the bench that crosses the whole back wall of the bus. So I pick my way over all the feet that are sprawled out in the aisle and before I can reach my seat, the bus lurches forward again and I trip over someone's feet and up the aisle. Lemme tell ya, it felt like the middle school school bus all over again. Could I be any more uncool?

I finally make it back to my seat, nestled amongst a group of boys who are all wearing the college sophomore guy uniform: American Eagle striped button down shirt with a wife-beater underneath, revealed by the shirt being buttoned only 2/3 of the way; some kind of neck accessory (hemp necklace, fashion crucifix, dog tags); spiked hair (but not in the cute way); ratty-ass faded blue jeans; and pristine Nike shoes. These guys all also have the fashion accessory that marks them as underage: the Poland Spring water bottle filled with a liquid that is clearly not water. I have my iPod in, so I can't hear their whole conversation, but they get particularly animated at one point and I hear this exchange about being picky eaters (apparently they all are): First guy says "Dude, that's why I cook at home. I watch that Rachel Ray shit and cook all my shit at home." (The other guys look at him in silence for a minute.) Second guy goes "all I know is, I've never eaten an olive, and I've never eaten a mushroom, and I'm not going to."

There was another group of young men whose fashion choices I simply could not fathom: two of the young men seemed to be very conscious of hip-hop style in all their clothing items except that they were wearing these jackets that had these child-like cartoon drawings of woodland creatures on them. One of them had a white background and the other had a royal blue background but other than that they matched. These two guys also had matching do rags except in opposite colors. It was adorable, like they called each other as they were getting dressed.

Also, in watching each individual group of people, I noticed that every one of them at some point seemed to have a conversation about their shoe choices, as I saw them all looking at each other's shoes and pointing and comparing.

Meanwhile I think the bus is about to careen off the road; the driver is either trashed or just so keen to unload this rowdy group that he couldn't keep his foot off the pedal.

As I got off the bus at my stop, the lone other passenger who clearly wasn't affiliated with this group of late-night party-goers got up behind me, crashed into me as the bus screeched to a halt so that I nearly fell down the steps, and asked the driver "Is this the airport?" I left the bus before I could hear the bus driver's response, though I am sure it was something along the lines of "You've got a long way to go to the airport; you're not even on the right bus."

"the book even of my secret soul" twelfth night: i, iv

2007-01-30T17:54:00.000-05:00

So yet again thanks to Katie Schwartz, who pointed me in the direction of The Book Quiz. I took the quiz, and lo and behold, I am my favorite book of all time!!

You're Alice's Adventures in Wonderland!

by Lewis Carroll

After stumbling down the wrong turn in life, you've had your mind opened to a number of strange and curious things. As life grows curiouser and curiouser, you have to ask yourself what's real and what's the picture of illusion. Little is coming to your aid in discerning fantasy from fact, but the line between them is so blurry that it's starting not to matter. Be careful around rabbit holes and those who smile to much, and just avoid hat shops altogether.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I wasn't even "trying" for anything specific, I just answered the questions honestly.

So that was fun.

On another note, today on the bus I overheard the young man next to me berating his baby mama over the phone. She kept hanging up on him, and he would keep calling her back, and if she didn't answer, he would berate her voicemail. Sounded like a custody thing; frankly, a guy who talks the way this guy did ("yeah try that and see how you like winding up in a fucking body bag" -click-) should not have custody of any child. I suppose it's possible that the mom is worse than him, but having listened to him for 15 minutes, I doubt it. So that was a good way to end the work day.

And finally, it seems to me that I got hoodwinked (refer to my previous post). Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel foolish at first, but the fact is that it is just a crying shame that there are enough people out there in this country who actually do think the way that Donnie Davies pretends to think to make me believe so easily in him. The way he looks and talks, and the words he says -- I have seen and heard people who are extremely similar, so it didn't seem like a parody to me. And since he's not really doing anything hyperbolic, since people really do think this way, it's not a very good satire, in my opinion. And I swear it's not just sour grapes -- I just don't find the subject matter to have been dealt with very cleverly. The only clever thing about it is the verisimilitude of the character.

Ok that's all I got for now.

"painting thy outward walls so costly gay?" sonnets: cxlvi

2007-01-24T17:44:00.000-05:00

So I was surfing along, checking out some of my usual web haunts, when the Onion's The Hater clued me in to a really .... breathtaking website.

It's called Love God's Way, and if it wasn't so amaturish and hamfisted, it might be something worth getting upset over. But, because they clearly have no fucking clue what they're talking about, it is just funny, and in a way, kind of sad. Basically, it's an organization that helps to "reform" homosexuals, and their shining beacon of hope is ... wait, I want to get this right .... ok, got it -- "Christian Youth expert Donnie Davies." He's a reformed homosexual, you see, and now he's a Christian Youth Expert. Oh, yeah, he also is a Christian rocker, and -- this is exciting -- they have a new music video out for their latest song, called "The Bible Says;" sample lyrics include "God hates a fag .... if you're a fag he hates you too." Nice! I love the Christian generosity in that sentiment. I really encourage you to click around on the site, and especially to hit up their "Safe Bands" and "Gay Bands" lists. You know what, I'll save you the trouble, because there are a couple gems here I want you to spot.

Ok, Safe Bands first (Oh, by the way, Love God's Way indicates that these lists are a "powerful tool" to "let you see some bands and entertainment that is safe for your children." Ok, onward we go): UnderOath, Cyndi Lauper, Falling Up, Flyleaf, THE TURNING [I have no idea why that is in all caps], Disciple, P.O.D, By The Tree, Scott Reed, Michael W. Smith, Jars of Clay, DC Talk, Danielson.

No real surprises there -- most of these are Christian bands. The only real baffler for me was Cyndi Lauper. I'm just sayin' - I have known several very nice gay men who love the Cyndi. But hey, I'm not a Christian Youth Expert.

Ok, here are the Gay Bands, a much longer list, and prefaced by the note that "one of the most dangerous ways homosexuality invades family life is through popular music. Parents should keep careful watch over their children's listening habits, especially in this Internet Age of MP3 piracy." Good job keeping it current, Love God's Way. Ok, here are the Gay Bands, listed as they appear verbatim:

The Spores (endorse suicide), Scissor Sisters, Rufus Wainwright, Merzbau, Ravi Shankar, Wilco, Bjork, Tech N9ne, Ghostface Killah, Bobby Conn, Morton Subotnik, Cole Porter, The String Cheese Incident, Eagles of Death Metal, Polyphonic Spree, The Faint, Interpol, Tegan and Sara, Erasure, Le Tigre, The Gossip, The Doors, Phish, Queen, The Strokes, Sufjan Stevens, Morrissey(?questionable?), The Pet Shop Boys, Metallica, Judas Priest, The Village People, The Secret Handshake, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Man or Astroman, Richard Cheese, Jay-Z, Depeche Mode, Kansas, Ani DiFranco, Fischerspooner, John Mayer, The Indigo Girls, Velvet Underground, Madonna, Elton John, Barry Manilow, Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, Eminmen, Nirvana, Boy George*, The Killers, Lou Reed, Lil' Wayne, Motorhead, Jill Sobule, Wilson Phillips, DMX, Lisa Loeb, Dogstar, Thirty Seconds to Mars, Lil' Kim, kd lang, Frank Sinatra, Hinder, Nickleback, Justus Kohncke, Bob Mould, Clay Aiken, Arcade Fire, Bright Eyes, Corinne Bailey Rae, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Panic at the Disco, Elton John(really gay).

Please note that Morrissey is only "questionably" gay; however, Elton John is so gay that he is listed twice, the second time with the note that he is "really gay," unlike Boy George who only receives an unexplained asterisk.

Oh, at the end of the gay list it says "In Our effort to keep this list up to date we'd appreciate your help. If you know of a band that is Gay or propogating a Gay message please email us so we can update. Donnie is handling this his email is: donniedavies@gmail.com." Then a new paragraph: "The response is overwhelming. You guys know of a lot more Gay Bands than I do. I can't keep up. Hopefully soon we'll have it so you can add them by yourself."

This is such a pathetic website, and honestly, as mad as I get when I hear about "reforming" homosexuals, and hearing hateful lyrics like "God hates a fag," I get more sad when I think about the fact that Donnie Davies is a gay guy who has told himself he is a filthy sinner and is just closing off a part of who he is. Someone got hold of him and told him that, and he believed it. You know, now he believes he's happy, and I guess if he thinks he's happy, he is happy. But the thing about spreading this venomous message to others is what makes it not just sad -- it makes it fairly horrifying. I feel like he needs another intervention.

Anyway, that's about all from here ... oh, did anyone else enjoy the State of the Union as much as I did? I'm talking, of course, about the President's very careful pronounciation of tough words near the beginning of the speech, including one correct "nuclear," which then deteriorated as he felt like he was in the swing of things. By the end it was "Tay-ran," "Bella-roose," and "nuke-yoo-lir," "nuke-yoo-lir," "nuke-yoo-lir." And what was up with the Prez signing all those autographs at the end? The people asking for them had to have been plants, don't you think?

"i have no words" macbeth: v, viii

2007-01-14T18:22:00.000-05:00

So, a couple things to get to here. Katie Schwartz asked if I would be posting my thoughts on ye ol' GW's most recent, you know, thing. His speech about his plans for the Iraq situation. Well, I wasn't going to say anything at first, because as you may know, I don't have a TV and I try not to read too many direct quotes from the President because it upsets me too much. I try to glean the basics by reading a variety of news sources, and stay away from actually hearing or reading anything that comes out of GW's mouth. But, upon reflection, I decided this is a kind of pivitol thing, and I really ought to go back and read his speech from Wednesday.

I have to say, I'm left feeling more baffled than ever. I wish the President was right - I wish that sending more troops over and "clearing" areas of terrorists and then "securing" those areas would do the trick, and then everyone could come home and we could be whole as a country. But how long can this truly go on? There's no timeline, even if we're being told that it's a temporary situation. And even if we do succeed in Iraq, there will be another confrontation that comes up after it, and another after that -- there's always going to be people out there wanting to create chaos, because it benefits them. I don't have a coherent alternative plan to what's being proposed ... leaving now will cause chaos too. It just sucks. I wish I had a more vehement opinion, but the fact is I am just bewildered at the state of things, and I honestly sometimes wonder what will become of us, all of us, as a species. Often the answer is "Nothing good." It sounds fucking depressing, and it is, and so I honestly don't know what else to say. There was I time when I would have gone on some kind of tirade, but why? I don't really know what I'm talking about. I just know I fear for the future, and often wonder just how much future we really have.

Sorry to be a downer. I'm not like this all the time, truly. But, Katie, just FYI, this is why I usually don't get into this stuff. It's too fucking depressing, and I don't know what I'm talking about most of the time.

* * *
Onward. Day to day life goes on. And in that vein, just thought I'd put it out there that my favorite person, V., has a new post up on Six Sentences. It's great, so please check it out.

Finally, again, Katie has tagged me on another meme. "The 10 things about meemish that I really don't want to tell you but will because I'm a freak." So here goes.

1. I love karaoke. Anytime someone suggests it, I am down. I'm not great, but I'm not terrible either -- it just is such a blast to get up there and tear it up with "The Humpty Dance."

2. I enjoy artificial flavors. They're a guilty pleasure. There are times when I love nothing more than "cherry" Jello.

3. I still hate to eat my vegetables. Vegetables just don't taste good to me, I'm sorry. I do it, but I hate it.

4. However, I love artichoke and asparagus. They're practically meat-like flavors anyway.

5. I once worked for a medical publishing company. One of the journals that premiered during my time there was a dermatology journal, and the cover on the premiere issue featured a photo of a baby's butt that had a gaping lesion on it. It was a fun job. (bleh). (The story has a happy ending, though - apparently this is not a totally uncommon disorder, and pretty much just keeping it clean allows it to clear itself up. On the inside, there was a photo of the baby like 2 months later, lesion free. Awwwww.)

6. I am the messiest nearly-30-person I know. My house is a shambles, pretty much consistently. I don't even know how it happens. Things just never seem to have a place. And I don't even have that much stuff anymore.

7. I'm still kind of afraid of the dark. Mostly I just don't like the lack of knowledge of what is surrounding me, especially my feet, for some reason.

8. I kind of like the way Red Bull tastes, by itself.

9. If there is something that might be cause for worry, I'll worry about it. "ooh, I mispronounced that guy's name last night, shit, what must he think of me??" It's really stupid.

10. My browser home page is U2.com.

"o brave new world" the tempest: v, i

2007-01-09T18:47:00.000-05:00

So I absolutely must have the new iPhone.

Oh, I know, I know, it's $499 - $599; it's an unecessary commodity; it's replacing items I already have.

Did you catch the important letter in that last clause? I'll give you a hint. The letter is "s".

It's replacing itemS I already have.

Holy Mother of God -- this thing is fucking amazing!!!! When I first read the story on it on CNN, my attitude was that, yeah, it's cool, but something I could live without. I mean, I have a phone I like already (I even get complements on it - it's tiny and it slides open), and I am also lucky enough to have an iPod already, and it's only a year old.

But oh my gosh the iPhone is SO AWESOME. Check out the specs on the site, seriously. And, truly, please believe me when I say I am not someone who usually jumps up at every new gadget and must have it. I mean, I like my technology and all, but I try to be reasonable. But this little beauty allows you to talk on the phone, or listen to music, or browse the internet and access email using a real web browser - and there aren't any fucking buttons! It's all touch-screeen, but a new touch-screen technology that disregards unintended motions. Oh, and it has a proximity sensor that tells it when you put the phone to your ear so you don't make erroneous selections with the side of your face while talking. Oh, and also, it has a sensor that tells it when you turn it on its side and flips to landscape view automatically. And check out the new music browsing interface, in which you actually flip through album cover art in the same way you would look at a record collection.

If you have like an hour to spare, check out the video of Steve Jobs introducing it. I intended to watch only a moment of it, but I was sucked in, watching Steve Jobs work his voodoo mojo on the salivating hippie geeks at the MacWorld conference. They could barely contain themselves, and, boy, did Steve know how to work it. The whole thing was a masterpiece. I actually couldn't watch the whole thing - there were too many other people trying to watch the video at the same time and my connection was lost. I'm telling you, this thing is about to blow wide open -- this is the wave of the fricking future. I think that with this invention, we might be able to achieve world peace.

***

In other news, Paris Hilton is a fucking dumbass. Muchos muchos gracias to the lovely and talented Katie Schwartz for being an alert reader of pop culture and making me aware of this fucking gem. It's positively breathtaking on so many levels. If you want to feel good about yourself today for not being a dumbass, this video is sure to do the trick.

"Sun that warms you here" king richard ii: i, iii

2007-01-06T12:53:00.000-05:00

"Cats and dogs living together -- mass hysteria!"

That's kind of how it feels up here in the ol' southeast Northeast. There's no way to put it politely (well, that's not true, a better-read person than I might have a more pleasant way of saying this) -- this weather is fucking strange. S-T-R-A-N-G-E.

Actually I just wanted an excuse to put up that scene from "Ghostbusters," because I think of it often in my own little strange mind, and I was able to kind of make it fit here.

But seriously, there are cherry blossoms in bloom here in RI. In January. I'm just saying. Next thing you know, Georgie W. will be admitting he did something wrong. If that happens, I just want to put it out there that you might find me in church next Sunday, making preparations for the End Times.

Whoa - as I wrote that, the sun burst through the clouds for like 15 seconds then went back in. Cue creepy ghost-movie music.

"help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper" twelfth night: iv, ii

2006-12-22T12:03:00.000-05:00

Howdy, folks, and welcome all newcomers to the latest stop on the Amy Guth Chanukah blog tour.

For those who have been living under a rock this year, Amy is the author of Three Fallen Women. This is her:

(She gave me an official “author picture” to use but I am using this one instead because I feel like it better portrays her sticking-it-to-the-man-ness.)

By way of introduction to those who are just joining us (since my regular readership is maybe 6 people – hi Mom and Dad), let me just say that in fact I am not Jewish, not even a little bit. However, I will without regret reveal right now that I handed down a massive ass whooping to Ms. Guth last Chanukah when it came time to play dreidel, and I have been richly rewarded with this place on the blog tour.

Now, with introductions out of the way and with no further ado: onto the blog tour survey (or meme, as we’re apparently now calling them):

1. Quick! You must turn a plate of latkes into an upscale gourmet delight (as if they aren't already?). What would you add to them to dress them up, flavor and/or garnish them?

Hmmm. I feel like I ought to add some kind of Eye-talian flair here what with my own heritage and all. So here’s what we do. Grate some parmesan cheese and add that into the latke batter before frying them. Then, roasted eggplant and roasted garlic pureed with a bit of olive oil; put a dollop of that on each latke, then garnish with some fresh chopped basil. Sounds good to me.

2. What is the dumbest thing you've ever heard anyone say about Chanukah?

Oh, man, I said the dumbest thing I can think of. It’s not strictly about Chanukah but I think when you read the story you’ll see that it qualifies in the spirit of the question. I really struggled with whether I should even reveal this or just make something up or go with a second best, but I started feeling like I needed to get it off my chest. Actually one of my readers may even remember this interchange, since he was one of the people I said it to, but hopefully he doesn’t remember it, because that will mean that it wasn’t as big a deal as I felt like it was. Let me also just preface this by saying that I said this 11 years ago when I was a freshman in college. I was a kid, a kid I tell ya.

So it’s early December, my first semester away from home, I’m looking forward to getting through exams and going back home for the holidays and the new year. A friend downstairs just invited me down to her dorm room to watch the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" special on tv with a bunch of other people. Excited, I head downstairs. I pass by the lounge and see a small group of people sitting and talking. I know most of them, and I’m excited like a little kid about the tv special (which, I swear, I really just thought of as seasonal at the time; my upbringing and leanings were so non-religious that I sometimes didn’t even think about the christian-ness of Christmas, more just as a time of light and traditions), so I stop for a second and say to the group at large “Hey guys, are you coming over to watch the Rudolph special?” The whole group looks at me, kind of dumbfounded, and I can’t figure out why, until one of the girls finally just says “This is the Jewish Students’ Association meeting.”

Aw-kward moment. Oh, man, what an ASSHOLE! Oh, man, I felt like melting into the floor; what a fucking idiot. I tell you what though, it taught me a valuable lesson about how making an assumption can make an ass out of “u” and “mption.” Christ, I’m blushing even as I write this. Onward we roll.

3. What's the best possible use for olive oil?

Best possible?? Wow, that is a hard question. There are so many excellent uses. I’m going to go with sautéing garlic to be tossed with pasta and parmesan cheese. I’ve lived on that at times.

4. Settle it once and for all. Latkes or hammentaschen? Which do you prefer? What about pitting the winner of that contest against sufganiyot?

Ok, so I actually knew what two of the three of these was without even looking them up. In the first bout, latkes win, because potatoes are a good argument for a loving deity, if you ask me, and frying them in oil just makes them more delicious. I have tried hammentaschen a couple times and been underwhelmed. I found them a little dry and just, as sweets go, not very fulfilling. Actually, at a bakery I worked at in Santa Fe, someone came in wanting to know if we could make hammentaschen for Purim. Well, none of the bakers were Jewish (I was the only baker who even knew even a little bit what Purim was and that hammentaschen were the associated pastry), but the owner’s wife was Jewish, and she said she thought she might have a recipe. She brought the recipe in, and we tried to make them, but we couldn’t really get the dough to come together. We ended up making some other kind of similar dough, I think, and then just sort of shaping them approximately right. The owner’s wife was like “These are actually good; real hammentaschen are gross; I didn’t think anyone liked them.” Huh.

As far as sufganiyot go, I had to look them up; I’d never heard of them. They would have had a fighting chance if not for the jelly filling. Ick. Potato pancakes vs. a jelly donut? Winner: Latke.

5. What's the best way to mix up a game of dreidel?

Well, I’ve played dreidel twice in my life; most recently, was the aforementioned time I was the only non-Jewish player, and I WHOOPED ASS. The only other time was when I was a little kid, maybe 6 or 7 years old; for some reason that year we had decided to observe some Chanukah traditions (my folks raised us Unitarian and were all for diversity). My mom had brought home a dreidel and we had very basic instructions on how to play, so she left my sister and I alone with the dreidel and some chocolate coins. The game quickly deteriorated into an argument over which symbol meant what, and then we kind of just abandoned it. Rudolph was probably on tv that night.

6. My novel, Three Fallen Women, shockingly enough, is about the lives of three women. Which three women would you like to have over this year for latkes and why?

I sure would love to be with my sister Jenny and share a nice latke or two; sadly she lives too far for that this year. *Sigh.* Come to think of it, I would also like my mother to join in, as I can’t think of the last time the three of us sat down together and just hung out. Finally, it sounds like I’m sucking up, but Amy Guth would be my third pick; she’s always good for fun times and potato products. Wait what?

7. Other than Three Fallen Women (har har), what book do you think would make a great Chanukah gift this year? What book would you like to receive as a gift this year?

I recently read “In Cold Blood” and really enjoyed it; a gripping read. If I knew someone who hadn’t read it, who could stomach it, I’d get that for them. As for what I would like to receive, well, I have but three words: “U2 by U2”. I’m a dork. What are ya gonna do? Hey, no laughing and pointing or I’ll beat your ass at dreidel, too!!

8. What bloggers didn't participate in Chanukah Blog Tour 5767 and you think should have?

Golly, I have to confess I can’t think of anyone … I’m so out of it in the blogosphere.

Well, anyway, this had been great!! Happy Chanukah everyone; thanks for letting me join in!! (Lesson learned: I did NOT say “thanks for letting me join in your reindeer games!” Progress, not perfection, folks.)

"the future comes apace:" timon of athens: ii, ii

2006-12-19T19:33:00.000-05:00

So I was at the post office tonight and by the front door, there is this regular post box that has been painted red, with cute graphics, candy canes, and the words "Santa's Mail" painted on it. Aw, how cute, was my first thought, followed immediately, almost overlappingly (is that a word?) with the thought that inside the mail box is probably a chute that leads directly out to the Dumpster. Wah wah wah wahhh - happy Christmas, kiddies.

So just a quick post here, this evening, and I do want to mention a not-to-be-missed event here at ye olde Skirmish of Wit, happening this coming Friday evening (December 22): I'll be participating in the Chanukah Blog Tour being held by none other than Amy Guth, author of Three Fallen Women. Although I am not Jewish, I have played dreidel, and eaten latkes, and participated in a menorah lighting. So I'm up for anything, and anything I'm a little hazy on, well, I'll just push on through. It'll be a blast so stop on by!

"a christmas comedy" love's labour's lost: v, ii

2006-12-16T15:56:00.000-05:00

I'm going to come right out and say that I enjoy Christmas. I actually do. But not in like a rabid, "everything must be perfect," lights up all over the house in mid-November kind of way. I just happen to take some pleasure in the traditions. I'm not religious, but I do like religious Christmas carols, as well as the secular songs of the season. The thing about the religious carols is that, because of the fudging done in the days of early christianity by the Romans to ensure that the pagans would get on board with the new state religion, the whole story of Christmas is more or less fictionalized, seeing as Jesus the historical figure was born in the Spring (I seem to remember). And, being of a literary ilk, I can get behind fictionalized history, with a little bit of poetry thrown in. "O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie/Above thy deep and dreamless streets the silent stars go by." That's nice imagery. As a little kid, that line always got me. I like the kind of old timey sound of the music of the song too. This year it is kind of ridiculously warm for December here in the Northeast. Therefore there's a lot of people out, whooping it up, enjoying the warm weather, in recent evenings. Not exactly deep and dreamless streets, but what are ya gonna do.

I think it's kind of funny how all the news outlets have to do some kind of new take on the Christmas thing at this time of year. It can't just be like "And, this month, millions of christians will celebrate Christmas, putting a strain on retail resources and electrical companies alike" kind of reporting. They've gotta find an angle on the historical thing. "The World of the Nativity" is Newsweek's this year. Pretty soon they'll be grasping at straws. "Joseph and Mary: the first Brangelina?"

I also saw a piece on CNN.com about some fucking asshole pastor in Ohio or someplace who's raging on about the "Secular Jihad" that's taking place against the christians. Uh, sir, I'm not sure you understand what the word "jihad" really means. I mean, yes, strictly speaking, it can mean any kind of vigorous struggle for an idea or principle, but - well, for me anyway - using that word creates a connotation that the people who are attacking have a religious conviction. I guess what he's getting at is that idea so many christians have about Secularism being a religion and blah blah they're trying to extinguish our rights to practice religion. I don't think these folks understand that they're the ones who are trying to impose their will on others, and the people who are being subjected to it are just trying to say, hey, I don't care what you believe, just don't use my tax dollars to pay for a nativity scene at the town hall. I guess that is the problem with "knowing" your faith is the right one: you just can't understand why people won't just see it your way. I started reading at a bookstore (I want to pick up a copy and finish it) this book called "Letter to a Christian Nation," by Sam Harris, and at one point he said something that pretty much sums up my thoughts on the matter; basically what he said was, (he's talking to a Christian here) understand that the way you feel about how wrong Muslims and Jews and whoever else are about religion and God, that's the way I view your beliefs. That's the thing, is religious zealots who think they've got it right, I think, a lot of times just think that people really do secretly believe what they believe, but choose to ignore it. When in fact, no, there's some real holes in your argument.

Anyway, I'm not going to go on about this more, I just think it's so strange that christians in some places think they have this right to monopolize the social and economic calendar every December.

That being said. I do like Christmas, as I mentioned before. I think of it as a pagan ritual, more than anything, to kind of ward off the darkness we're being enveloped in, to draw those we care about closer in our hearts, to prepare for the new year. There's a humor writer for the Washington Post named Gene Weingarten, and he was asked how he views Christmas and approached it when his kids were young, since he is culturally Jewish and his wife is not. He said "Christmas is a terrific time and we get a tree and presents and mom makes soup and stuff! Yay, Christmas!"

I mean, soup! Yeah! I can get behind soup. Let's just not get too pushy if someone doesn't, say, care for soup. I can enjoy my soup just fine, even if someone near me chooses to pass. No problem. I don't need to feel attacked, ya know?

"varying in subjects" love's labour's lost: v, ii

2006-12-03T21:18:00.000-05:00

What kind of sicko gets up at 5:15am when 6:00am would have done just as well? This kid, that's who. Why, I cannot say, except that I just get so anxious that I am not going to wake up in time that I never get to sleep very well at all. It's one trait that I truly can say I wouldn't miss in myself if it suddenly disappeared.

****

Conversation I overheard the other night waiting for a bus:

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #1: I couldn't believe how mad he was! And he was all up in my face, like, yelling about you, and I'm all, Dude, I'm not Jason!

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #2: Yeah he totally lost his shit, man, it was unreal.

Young Aspiring Hippie Woman: Wait, so who was that dude?

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #1: This fucking guy Noah, who's all, like bent out of shape.

Young Aspiring Hippie Woman: What was his deal?

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #2: He's just pissed that I threw a brick through his car back window when I was drunk the other night.

Huh. I just wanted to shake them, but I couldn't bear to get too close; they clearly hadn't showered in days.

****

I never buy US Magazine and then feel good about it. I bought one yesterday and I'm just not sure why. I actually used to read it all the time and derive glee from it, from reading about celebrity mishaps. But a few months ago, there was some smug cover story about a famous couple splitting up (maybe), and suddenly it just wasn't fun for me anymore. Yeah, they're famous, but they're still people, and heartbreak isn't something I should feel gleeful about. So what, someone famous made a poor decision in who they fell in love with -- I know plenty of non-famous people who do that, and I don't express pleasure when it happens to them. It was like a moment of clarity, a weird moment where I realized my worldview had shifted. Why did I buy it yesterday? It was a weird regression, I suddenly felt like I wanted to wallow in someone else's despair for a half hour. But it was a joyless wallowing, and now I feel like I should like, donate a pint of blood or something to make up for it.

Actually, I just donated blood a couple weeks ago. It was my first time donating in a mobile blood center, instead of at a center or in a school gymnasium. In the trailers, they have several cots that are all kind of facing each other, so you end up being able to see the other people who are donating. So I'm sitting on the cot, the technician does her thing, gets me started on the donation, and I sit there placidly making conversation for a few minutes. Meanwhile, this other lady comes in and gets started up. Well, she sits there looking at me with this like glint in her eye, and she's pumping her hand fairly furiously while her donation is going on. After several minutes, she takes a phone call from her son and berates him for not getting his homework done early enough. She hangs up the phone, looks down at her donation sac and then back at me, then goes "Ha! I'm totally beating you!" Uh, wahhh? I didn't realize this was a contest! I didn't realize the object here was to lose as much blood as quickly as possible here! Geez! So, yeah, she did beat me. The technician finishes her up, and she sits down for the minimum number of minutes, refusing the Lorna Dunes (Christ, that's the whole reason for donating! Oreos and cranberry juice!), and then swoops out of the trailer, with a sort of "See ya, suckas" attitude. I guess no one told her that there's no award for quickest donation. It was thoroughly bizarre.

"like a bold champion, i assume the lists" pericles, prince of tyre: i, i II

2006-11-28T21:54:00.000-05:00

Do you snore?
I've been told once or twice that I was snoring, but not regularly, no. Apparently I do talk in my sleep. Nothing incriminating, I hope.
Are you a lover or a fighter?
A fighter. I wish I wasn't but I am.
What's your worst fear?
death by fire's a good one. I have so many fears, it's tough to pick my all time fave.
As a kid, were you a Lego Maniac?
Nah. I had Loc-Blocs at one point but never graduated to Legos. I was a big fan of the ol' scotch tape and paper bag type of crafts, not the building stuff.
What do you think of reality tv?
I hate it, and in fact hate almost all tv, which is why I gave it up.
Do you chew on your straws?
Sometimes.
Were you a cute baby?
My parents kept me, so I guess I was cute enough.
Is the single life for you?
No.
What color is your keyboard?
I dunno, it's like colorless. Grey? Generic? That reminds me when Ned Flanders asks his boys what kind of ice cream they want and one of them replies "flavorless!"
Do you sing in the shower?
Sometimes, when the Spirit is upon me.
Have you ever bungee jumped?
Nope. Can't see that happening.
Any secret talents?
Not any I'm willing to reveal here.
What's your ideal vacation spot?
The World.
Can you swim?
Yah.
Have you seen the movie Donnie Darko?
Yeah. It was good, but not like, life altering or anything.
Do you give a damn about the ozone?
Yeah I do. The earth will be fine either way, but I think we humans may be fucked.
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?
A-one, a-two, a-thrrrreee!
Can you sing the alphabet backwards?
Why on earth would I know the answer to that? Why would I try? It's in order for a reason! (uh, and that reason is, uh, .... very important, I'm sure!)
Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpener?
I like the little ones that you just twist around the end of the pencil. Actually, I try to use mechanical pencils whenever I can.
What's your stand on hunting?
Wouldn't do it, don't mind if others do do it, if it's with respect and care for the animal and its environment.
Is marriage in your future?
Was this meme written by a 16 year old?
Do you like your handwriting?
No, my handwriting is an embarrassment.
What are you allergic to?
Nothing that I am aware of.
When was the last time you said, I love you?
About twenty minutes ago when I said good night to my dad.
Do you cry at weddings?
If I really know and like the participants, yes, but not just as a general rule.
How do you like your eggs?
I'll eat an omelet under great duress.
Are blondes dumb?
Some are. Some aren't. It's not a guy's fault if he's born with blonde hair, I won't hold it against him.
Where does the other sock end up?
Heh.
What time is it?
"A-four-thirty! It's not late - nah, nah! It's just early, early, early!" (the spin doctors.)
Do you have a nickname?
Not that anyone calls me in polite company. Oh, I used to be called Angry Nicky. I've chilled out some, though. I actually told someone I work with that I used to be called that and he flat-out called me a liar, he didn't believe me. So I punched him.
Is McDonalds disgusting?
Yeah. The fries are tempting but I try to avoid them; I never eat them and then think "yeah, I'm glad I ate that."
When was the last time you were in a car?
Like twenty minutes ago.
Do you prefer baths or showers?
Whatever, as long as the water is nice and hot, I get can get comfortable either way.
Is Santa Claus real?
Yes, Virginia.
Do you like to have your neck kissed?
Do I!
Are you afraid of the dark?
I must confess that I really still am.
What are you addicted to?
Caffeine.
Crunchy or creamy peanut butter?
Creamy. What, do you think I'm a communist??
Can you crack your neck?
No. That's gross.
Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?
No, thank goodness.
Is drug free the way to be?
For me it is. For you? Do whatever, I don't give a shit. (Unless you're my downstairs neighbor. Dude. Get help.)
Are you a heavy sleeper?
Yeah. More than anything, I'm a fast sleeper, in the sense that when I lay down, I rarely have to wait long before I am in a deep and dreamless sleep. That is one of the nice things about doing physical labor all day.
What color are your eyes?
brown-ish whatever.
Do you like your life?
Most of the time. Could use improvements in places, but all in all I have it pretty darn good.
Are you psychic?
Sometimes I think I might be a little. I sometimes can totally guess what the next song that comes up on my iPod will be!
Have you read Catcher in the Rye?
Yeah. That's funny I was actually just talking about CITR with my dad tonight.
Do you play any instruments?
I play men's souls like Billy Joel plays the piano.
Have you ever stolen money?
Probably the odd dollar here or there from around the house when I was a kid.
Can you snowboard?
I tried once. I did well for a while but when I got tired I turned into a cranky-pants.
Do you like camping?
Yeah I was practically born in a tent.
Do you snort when you laugh?
No, but I have that annoying kind of hiccup-y sounding laugh. I hate my laugh.
Do you believe in magic?
uh, sure.
Are dogs a man's best friend?
I am not really a dog person but I am sure there are some men for whom their dogs are their best friends.
Do you believe in divorce?
Only if it's with the right person.
Can you do the Moonwalk?
Boy, I wish I could! I WOULD USE THAT!!!!!!!
Do you make a lot of mistakes?
I think I think I make more than I actually make. But, yes. "Everyone makes mistakes," as that wise sage Big Bird once said.
Is it cold outside today?
Chilly. Kind of smells like snow, though I know it's too warm for it.
What was the last thing you ate?
A Magic Bar (hey, yeah, I DO believe in magic!!)
Do you wear nail polish?
Not allowed by health code.
How many people do you like right now?
You mean LIKE-like or just like? Or like, LIKE-like-like?
What's the most annoying tv commercial?
I am blissfully unaware of any tv commercials.
Do you shop at American Eagle?
Dude the sizes there are fucking ridiculous. I think I once saw a size 000 there.
Favorite song at the moment?
I've been really into Guillemots lately. "Made Up Love Song" is excellent.
Who are you tagging?
I'm not. This was a long-ass meme! I don't know anyone who has the same kind of free-time I do! But if you have free time and you want to self-tag, feel free!

"sing, and dance it trippingly." a midsummer night's dream: v, i

2006-11-28T21:27:00.000-05:00

So tonight I was given a ticket to see "Movin' Out;" the touring show was at our local performing arts center. All I knew going in was that they took the music of Billy Joel and made a musical. I think that's a little misleading, though, because what they actually did was take the music of Billy Joel, have a kid on stage with a piano and a band singing his songs, and made a ballet. Not to say it was bad - the cast was quite talented and all in all, the dancing was quite good, even excellent at times. But there were points, I must say, where I felt like I might be watching the final dance scene from Center Stage, the movie about ballet dancers at Juliard or wherever, where there's the young upstart choreographer/dancer, who has all these ideas, man, and the stodgy old school won't let him try them out, until his final presentation at the end of term, where he gets to show his stuff, and the asshole drives his actual motorcycle on stage (there is a scene in "Movin' Out" where a car is driven on stage!). I guess I felt like there were times when the choreography was a little too literal, is all. But a lot of it was very good, and all in all, I was won over; and let it be said that I am not a "musicals" kind of gal, even though we have already established that it wasn't really a musical but instead a ballet with live vocalists. But, just for the record, according to the synopsis in the program, one of the characters "becomes her own woman," which apparently means changing into a red dress, dancing with a lot of guys all at once, and then becoming a stripper. Oh, and then settling down with a nice boy. So if you wondered what it meant to "be your own woman," now you know. Just FYI.

Oh, also Katie tagged me on another meme. Answers forthcoming.

"you taught me language; and my profit on't is, i know how to curse" the tempest: i, ii

2006-11-26T18:34:00.000-05:00

So this is a pretty good quiz; it pegged me pretty darn well.
Take it yourself - it's kind of fun!

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Northeast Judging by how you talk you are probably from north Jersey, New York City, Connecticut or Rhode Island. Chances are, if you are from New York City (and not those other places) people would probably be able to tell if they actually heard you speak.
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The Midland
The South
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

In other news, today I made my first wedding cake.

Yes, it's very small (two tiers, one 9 inches and the other 6 inches), and there's a couple of dents from when I transported it home, but it's mine, and I was happy with it. And my instructor gave me an "A", which, I hate to say, matters to me. I'm a grade hog. I get pissed if I get below an A or A- in any subject that I feel I should do well in. In other words, it's no problem to me if I skate by in pre-calc or chemistry. But if I get an 89 on a very difficult English test, I get super pissed at myself. I got a 4 on the AP English exam without taking the AP English course, so I took the test again the next year and got a 5 (at the time that was the highest you could get, I don't know if that's still true). I wish I had that kind of stick-to-it-tiveness (that might be my favorite dorky-ass made up word ever) in all walks of life. Ah, well. Life is a work in progress. To celebrate my A, I am going to treat myself to an eggnog latte.

"accept distracted thanks" troilus and cressida: v, ii

2006-11-21T21:38:00.000-05:00

It's been an age since I last wrote; it's unacceptable, but in my defense this is one of my busiest times, between work and the trimester at school ending. However. I'm here now, and that's got to count for something.

I try to keep a healthy dose of perspective in my life (I really do), but I usually fail miserably. This time of year is a good time for me to take a few minutes to think about how, in the grand scheme of things, I'm pretty lucky. I won't make a "thanks list" here because my reasons are too personal, and frankly, too hokey, for public viewing, but for the most part it's all the stuff most people are thankful for. Although I'm not what anyone who owns a dictionary would call "religious," I do find that a sort of cosmic thankfulness does me some good when I get to the end of the day.

This year my feelings are a little ... I don't know .... I guess you would say unsettled, because a strange and horrible event happened earlier this week. A person I know, a guy I worked with, a guy I saw last Wednesday, was killed in his apartment on Friday night. The police are investigating it as a homicide; apparently he was stabbed in his own home. This wasn't a guy I knew really well; I happened to know his name because I heard him addressed, and I wouldn't be surprised if he did not know mine .... but it was a guy I saw a few times a week, with whom I always exchanged smiles and a pleasant hello. I won't pretend that I'm emotionally overwrought by this; it would be a lie to say my reaction was emotional when I got the news -- our relationship was very basic and no more than acquaintenceship. But I was disturbed, and, in a distanced way, saddened when I heard the news yesterday morning.

I didn't think about it much yesterday because there was a lot going on around me and in my own work that I needed to focus on, but this afternoon, I heard the managers discussing how his shifts were being covered. One of the managers was the guy who brought him into the job, his friend for the last few years, and it was clear that it was a difficult discussion for him to be having. I started thinking about this guy's family and what this Thanksgiving will be like for them, the seat that their 26-year-old son should have filled sitting empty.

It feels weird and selfish to use someone else's grave misfortune as a lens for my own life, but such is human nature, and I do find this horrible event making me more quick to forgive in my mind, both others and myself; more likely to appreciate small gestures; quicker with a smile for someone having a bad day. For me, the hereafter (if there is one) being uncertain, it seems crazy to put off being nice or taking pleasure in things. Life goes on, yes, work must be done, things will piss me off (this is me we're talking about here) -- but given that anybody, including me, could unwittingly make a fatal choice or fall into a fatal situation beyond one's control, at any time ... well, it's a cliche, but life's too short not to enjoy it. And I do, I feel thankful for the things that I have in my life, and the time that's been alotted to me so far, and the people in my life. I just have to take a few minutes and remember that thankfulness.

"Gives her fame which never dies" much ado about nothing: v, iii

2006-11-07T20:57:00.000-05:00

One of these things is not like the other. Can you pick up on it?

From CNN.com's front page.

- Key Virginia race going to the wire
- Democrat projected winner in Ohio governor's race
- Hot button issues in ballot measures | Video
- FBI probes claims of deceptive election phone calls
- Corruption named top issue in exit polls | Video
- The Ticker: Campaign says fliers weren't 'dirty trick'
- Governor's goof delays his vote | Video
- Man accused of smashing voting machine
- Britney Spears files for divorce
- CNN Wire: Latest updates on world's top stories

Because this is Election Day, these are the ONLY headlines appearing on the front page today. And Britney made it up there. Way to go, girl! No other entertainment star is up there today, but you found a way!

"ruffians dance and leap" king richard ii: ii, iv

2006-11-07T19:58:00.000-05:00

For whatever reason, this scene was in my head ALL DAY LONG.

Was there anything better than David Bowie in this movie? I kind of wished I was as cool as him when I saw this movie as a kid. These days this movie comes to mind whenever I'm having a bad day or someone is pissing me off. In mind, I just say "You have no power over me!" It's actually remarkably effective. I recommend it.

---
In other news, if you're a local reader of this blog, which, if you are, I am probably related to you, but if you are, just a note that on Thursday at 6pm, author/friend of mine Amy Guth will be reading from her book Three Fallen Women at Symposium Bookstore on Westminister St. You should check it out because it is sure to be a rockin' good time.

And, PS, Adam, it has as of this moment, NOT been 2 weeks since my last post; it has been a mere 12 days. So, mweh.

"like a bold champion, i assume the lists" pericles, prince of tyre: i, i

2006-10-26T22:43:00.000-04:00

Wow, I got "tagged" this week by two bloggers! Exciting world I've entered, this blogosphere. I'd best get on it before the "tagging" starts piling up! (I'm going to keep mostly quiet about the fact that "tagging" someone to make lists seems suspiciously similar to sending out an email poll. I'm just glad to be here!)

First, I was tagged by the "lovely and talented" Amy Guth, author of the fantastic new novel Three Fallen Women, and, as it happens, one of my favorite people.

So this is the "book meme" she tagged me on (the quotes are because I'm just learning all this newfangled terminology):
1 ) One book that changed your life: Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll. The book that taught me to love reading.
2) One book that you'd read more than once: The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger.
3 ) One book you'd want on a deserted island: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. There's a lot I’ll never get at in there. But that kind of free time might help.
4) One book that made you laugh: High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
5) One book that made you cry: *sigh* I don't cry much for books, but I did just read a play called Indoor/Outdoor by Kenny Finkle, about a cat and her owner, and I have to confess that I was a little teary at the end.
6) One book you wish you'd written: About a Boy, Nick Hornby. A lot of good characters who are all going somewhere in the story.
7) One book you wish had never been written: The Left Behind series.
8) One book you're currently reading: Moab is my Washpot: An autobiography, Stephen Fry
9) One book you've been meaning to read: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer
10) Tag 5 people: Well, I don't know all that many people out there on the blogosphere, but I guess those I tag without blogs could post responses in my comments section. So I tag Like Pollution's V., Rational Leftist's Adam (maybe he'll finally post something, the lazy PhD-seeking slacker), ummm, let's see, oh, Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah is someone whose posts I always enjoy; I'll tag her too ... and, ok, how 'bout my dad, Rob, and my mom, Jan. Maybe they'll comment on my blog for a change!

Ok, so the other "tag" I got was from the very funny Katie Schwartz, whose blog I am a relative newcomer to, but who I so far find quite entertaining. This meme was a little more open ended so I am just going to go with it:

::five things you don't know about me:: [maybe]

1. I know a lot of keystroke shortcuts for MS Word. Ok, ok, a lot of people know that Control-Z is Undo, and Control-A is Select All, etc. But did you know that Control-] will make selected text increase in font size, and Control-[ will make it decrease? Also, Shift-F3 toggles selected text from lowercase to initial capitalized to all caps. Control-K is the shortcut for the “degrees” symbol. (On a Mac, you would use the Apple key instead of Control.) There's more ... so much more. But I'll move on.

2. I can’t keep myself from reading every comic strip in the comics section of a newspaper, no matter how bad it is. There’s text and pictures on the page, I must read it. So once I start reading, even if it’s just to keep up with Get Fuzzy, I have to stick it out all the way through For Better or for Worse, Family Circus, and, yes, even Marmaduke.

3. I confess that I often prefer a mix tape (or, now, playlist) to listening to a series of albums. I mean, there are some albums that just do better as a whole, and I generally listen to them in their entirety; however, as a general rule, I'm much happier keeping a nice variety going. So sue me.

4. I wore sneakers under my wedding dress. No one was the wiser. And my feet were much happier.

5. I read every advice column I can get my hands on: Miss Manners, Dear Abby, Ask Amy, Savage Love, Tell Me About It, heck, I even read Hints from Heloise if I'm reading a paper that carries it! I don't know why. I'm not looking for advice; heck, I rarely accept advice from people I know and love, let alone some stranger! I guess reading other people's problems and an advice columnist's answers is like my version of a soap opera obsession.

So, anyway, I guess that's all from here. I think I'm supposed to tag people on this one too, so how about V. again, and Adam again, my sister Jenny, and how about Carolyn, too.

"told by an idiot, full of sound and fury" macbeth: v, v

2006-10-16T18:13:00.000-04:00

My alma mater is adorable! They think I actually give a crap if they have some kind of emergency that they want to notify me about by email.

I just received in my junk mail inbox the following message:

In our continuing efforts to ensure our ability to provide emergency notifications from the [Nonspecific College] campus when necessary, we are testing our email capability.

Please reply back " Received " in the body of the email . Thank you.

Now, in case the fact that an email from my college went directly into my junk email box hasn't given you a clear picture of things, I'll just go ahead and let you know that I'm not really on speaking terms with the school right now. Don't get me wrong, my education was just fine and dandy and I met some of the greatest people - students, staff, and faculty alike - that I know there. However, the school and I don't speak because I'm not really pleased with the direction the school is headed in (they recently bragged that entering freshmen SAT scores were now averaging something like 1099) ...

So given my unwillingness to talk to these guys for like, you know, normal stuff, why on earth would I reply to a creepy email about emergency notifications? What possible emergencies would I, an alumna now for 7 or so years, need to be aprised of? "Alumni Emergency Alert! We need to know what color balloons you want to have at your reunion! Please reply immediately!" No way.

***

In other news, gas prices being what they are, I took the bus to and from work today, and was delighted to be approached by Nutty O'Nutahan while at the bus stop (if by "delighted" I mean "displeased"). A woman about my age, she marched up to the bus stop where about 6 people were waiting and agressively demanded the time. My mistake was being the person who answered. She parked herself next to me and started gabbing - despite no encouragement from me - about why women and senior citizens are such crappy drivers and described a recent instance where she had been driving and been cut off by an older woman and so she "flipped her the bird" as she said. Much to my relief, the bus arrived at that point and I allowed a couple of people to board between us. Noting where she sat, I moved to the opposite end of the bus and sat down and put my headphones on.

As soon as the bus started moving, this gal stood up, looked around, saw me, and - despite my lack of eye contact - moved back and parked herself next to me again. I ignored her (cause, you know - headphones) as she began to launch into another speech, until she saw that I had headphones in and tugged on my jacket sleeve until I turned to look at her and listen!"There was another incident where I was at an intersection and ...." After that point, it actually wasn't too bad; I simply nodded every couple seconds, not really listening to what she said. At one point I realized she had asked me a question and had to respond, but for the most part, I was able to just tune her out. Even still, her voice wasn't as relaxing as simply putting my head back and listening to music. I guess that's the price you pay for public transportation. Plus, you know ... the fare.

"know'st me not by my clothes?" cymbeline: iv, ii

2006-10-07T17:53:00.000-04:00

Boy, I sure do love music. All kinds. I wish I could say I was a snob about it, but I'm not, not really. Which isn't to say I'll listen to anything, but there is a wide variety of music I'll listen to with gusto. I really do have a soundtrack in my head all the time. I can remember two Halloweens when I was growing up, I tried to rig up a way to actually have a soundtrack to accompany my stellar costumes. One year, I was "the Sugar Plum Fairy" -- not just any fairy, I was the Sugar Plum Fairy (mind you, I held on to this idea from the previous December when I saw The Nutcracker ballet for the first time). I was nervous that people wouldn't know, specifically, that I was the Sugar Plum Fairy based on my purple leotard, tutu, foil-covered wings, and beautiful makeup (the only time I got to wear lipstick at age 7) and wanted to carry the music with me to sort of clue people in. So I spent an afternoon with my Fisher Price tape recorder, sitting next to the stereo speakers in our living room playing the music from the Nutcracker record we had (this was early October, much to my mother's delight), and trying to record the music by holding the recorder up to the speaker. Trouble was, I'd get halfway through recording the darn thing, and someone would walk in and say something, or make a noise, or I'd drop the recorder, etc. Finally I got through one recording that had maybe only one interruption -- I'd have to just quickly make my appearance and skip away before anyone heard it, I reasoned -- and it was time for dinner so I called it a day, hoping for the best.

On Halloween night, in the excitement of putting on my costume, arguing about sweatshirt-wearing with Mom, getting my glow stick and jack-o-lantern treat pail all together, I forgot the damn tape player!! I didn't realize it until we approached the first house, and by then it was too late. We rang the bell, and the kindly older woman who answered the door oohh'ed at the sight of us in our glory, me as the Sugar Plum Fairy and my sister as ... I'm not sure, but I think she was an alien with a sparkly Star Trek-like outfit that might even have had lights on it. "Ooooh!" the woman cooed. "What do we have here? An astronaut! Annnd, let's see .... a ballerina!"

A ballerina!!! Oh, god, she totally missed it!! Without my music I was doomed to the anonymous, unoriginal role of Ballerina, no doubt one of hundreds who would pirrouette their way up these porch steps!! Crestfallen, I blurted out "NO! I'm the Sugar Plum Fairy!!!!!" The woman smiled condescendingly and said, "Happy Halloween, dear," as she dropped a pencil and a penny into each of our treat pails. Double whammy: incorrect costume identification, non-candy treat. Boo.

The very next year I was convinced that I would not be undone in the same fashion. Without my imagined cinematic entrance complete with the very important musical cues that would let people know exactly who I was, I was doomed to nondescriptness; I might as well just buy a costume at the store!

With the new year I had discovered the rock and roll music. In fact, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up in a school assigment, I put down that I wanted to be either a "doctor for horses" (I knew what a vet was but associated them with cats and dogs and wanted to specify my [kind of snotty, I see now] association with horses, which came from the fact that my dad played arena polo) or a "punk rocker" (I wish I was making my third grade terminology up). Please understand, however, that my idea of punk was about as close to the Clash as Justin Timberlake. My understanding of, ahem, punk rockers was that they wore mis-matched clothing -- sometimes with rips in them! -- had a lot of earrings, all the way up the ear, and, most interestingly to me, multicolored hair. In other words, uh .... er ....

Ok. It was Cyndi Lauper (I spelled it Cindy Lopper). Yeah, not exactly ... you know ... Sid Vicious level punk rock.

So, that was my planned costume. This year, I had it even better, because at (again) the previous Christmas, my uncle (who had been, in his day, a, uh, "punk rocker" himself) had recorded a copy of "She's So Unusual" for me, so I already had my top-notch recording of the song "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Now, all I needed was that awesome criss-cross haircut that she sported in the "Time After Time" video, dyed bright red!! Well, Mom nixed the cut, but did buy me some red spray-on color. Then, with my "punk rock" outfit (red boat-neck sweatshirt off one shoulder, red skirt, turquoise tights (no rips), red legwarmers), some "crazy" makeup thanks to Mom, I was ready. Oh, wait, one other thing. I decided Cindy Lopper had a pet, who was also punk rock, so I took my Koosa and dressed it up in a similar outfit, and pierced its ear, and drew makeup on the doll with magic markers. Now I was ready. This outfit, pet, red hair, and music would be sure to leave no doubt in any viewer's mind who I was. I was a veritable dead ringer, as surely Cindy Lopper arrived anywhere she went with her punk rock pet and her own music being blasted by one of her lackeys.

The problem that I didn't foresee was my mother's unwillingness to tote my tape player around. Weirdly enough, between the jackets she would be carrying for both me and my sister, the flashlight, and no doubt my Koosa as I got tired of carrying it, she didn't want the extra baggage. Huh, weird - she didn't want to be my stage manager. Go figure. Well, I didn't want to ruin the effect by carrying it around myself (not very punk rock to carry a Fisher Price tape player, even I knew that), and it was getting late -- soon all the good loot would be gone. And I didn't want to throw a fit, lest I be sent to bed with no trick or treating at all. So I surrendered the soundtrack for the second year, against my better judgement.

And at the first door, the kindly older man looked down and said "Oh! What do we have here now? Ahhh, a cheerleader!! Very nice." And dropped a penny into my treat pail. Double, double whammy.

"sweet sister" measure for measure: iii, i

2006-10-03T17:50:00.000-04:00

It's my younger sister's birthday today, and in honor of that, I'd like to share this Top 10 List of Why My Sister is the Best:

10. She has a stunning sense of fashion.
9. She has the kind of willpower and self-discipline it takes to begin a homework assigment when it is assigned, not the day before it is due (unlike certain writers of this blog who I might know ... or, er, be).
8. She's good at learning languages.
7. Growing up, she had the good sense to request pumpkin pie for breakfast on her birthday, which meant that I got to have pumpkin pie on her birthday too!
6. She forgives me for not calling her as often as I think of her (well, she says she does, anyway).
5. She can ascertain (correctly!) from a crappy cell phone photo whether a pair of shoes will go with a dress that has only been described to her.
4. She put up with all my hairbrained ideas when we were growing up.
3. She makes a mean spaghetti sauce.
2. She's funny as hell.
1. She's got a heart as big as the Moon.

Happy birthday, Skeet!

"thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown" king lear: i, iv

2006-09-25T20:02:00.000-04:00

Separated at birth?

You probably recognize the gent on the right as Yul Brenner. On the left, however, you may be scratching your head.

Let me help you out.

Ok ok ok! It's an inexplicably head-shaved Joey Lawrence.

He's appearing on Dancing With The Stars, apparently. I know this only because I was trying to figure out why on earth I kept seeing that Daddy Warbucks-like picture of him everywhere. Now I know. But I don't know why he would choose this look, and it troubles me.

No answers on Wikipedia's entry on him; although, according to them, apparently I am supposed to call him "Joseph" now. I'm not sure he gets it -- if you're a child actor who's grown up, you will be your child actor persona for the rest of your life. Sorry. Even I use the names "Little Opie" and "The Beave" to refer to the actors who played those two characters, despite the fact that I wasn't even born yet when their shows were on tv.

I think my favorite thing on the Wikipedia entry for Joey Lawrence is this line: ..."he played the character Joey Russo, a dim-witted young man who frequently uttered the phrase 'Whoa.'" I don't think this gives the full impact of how utterly dumb that catchphrase, if one can even call it that, was. I worry that future generations won't get it.

"fortune's cat" all's well that ends well: v, ii

2006-09-24T19:19:00.000-04:00

So I'm catching up on my world news a little, reading some of Ye Olde BBC Worlde Newes, which I do from time to time to see how those in other parts of the world view us, and I stumbled upong this: US Hypoallergenic Cats Go on Sale. A snippet:

US biotech firm Allerca says it has managed to selectively breed [the world's first specially-bred hypoallergenic cats ] by reducing a certain type of protein that triggers allergic reactions.

The cats will not cause the red eyes, sneezing and even asthma that some cat allergy sufferers experience, except in the most acute cases.

Despite costing $3,950 (£2,104), there is already a waiting list to get one.

So, let me get this straight. They can't make a saran wrap that actually sticks to any kind of container's lip or that doesn't unwind from its cardboard tube without unravelling unevenly and ripping, but they can selectively breed a cat that won't make someone's allergies flare up? So, they're saying that they can't, say, oh, I don't know ... find a cure for cancer (just brainstorming here), but they can make specially formulated cats?

I'm not the only one who finds this to be an astonishing misuse of funds, right?

And please, tell me I'm not the only one to be astounded that there is an actual waiting list of people ready to pay more than the in-state admission costs for some state schools for one of these cats?

Not to mention the whole can of worms this opens up. Just think: in as little as 15 years from now, they could have "selectively bred" a whole army of super cats, cats whose genes predispose them to attacking humans, pillaging PetCos, and ultimately conquering humans and subjecting us to an all Yarn-Based entertainment industry. The Horror! I mean, I'm a cat person and all, but, people -- where does the madness end?!

"a most notorious pirate" measure for measure: iv, iii

2006-09-19T20:22:00.000-04:00

Many thanks to Adam, who pointed out in his blog yesterday that today is National Talk Like a Pirate Day. I actually saw a dude walking down the street today dressed in full pirate gear. It was pretty awesome.

In honor of this fake holiday, here is my favorite pirate joke. (It's, uh, also the only pirate joke I know.)

A guy on vacation in the Carribbean walks into a bar. Sitting at the back corner of the bar is what appears to be a real, honest to goodness pirate - he's got it all: parrot on the shoulder, hat, eye patch, peg leg, hook for a hand, the works. The man approaches the pirate.

"Excuse me, sir," he says. "Are you really a pirate?"

"Aye, that I be," replies the pirate.

"Wow!" the man says. "You must have had such an interesting life and seen so many things! Do you .... do you mind if I ask you how you got the peg leg?"

"Yargh," the pirate says. "That was indeed a terrible day. A rival pirate gang captured me and made me walk the plank. A huge shark grab hold of me leg and was going to drag me down into Davy Jones' Locker, but I managed to escape with only the loss of me leg."

"Wow!" the man says. "And how about the hook -- how did you lose your hand?"

"Aye, that be a terrible day as well. I was on the banks of the Nile, digging up a chest of treasure. I had a precious gem in my hand when a great big crocodile, attracted by the gem's glittering, lunged out of the water and chomped down on me arm, taking the gem and me hand back into the Deep with him."

"Holy crap!" exclaims the man. "What about your eye? How did you lose that?"

"Yarrrrr! That be the worst of them all, ye scaliwag!" the pirate exclaims. "I was lying out on the deck on a clear autumn night, looking up at the stars as we made our way to safe port, when all of a sudden ... a seagull flew over and shit in me eye!!"

"A seagull shit in your eye?" says the man. "Well that doesn't sound so bad; how did you lose the eye from that?"

"Yaaarrr! It was the first day with me hook!"

"i will resist such entertainment" the tempest: i, ii

2006-09-18T21:05:00.000-04:00

I try not to be too high and mighty about this, but I've given up television. We don't have one at our house, and I rarely watch it anywhere else. Yes, I will watch it if it's on at someone else's house or if I'm housesitting or something. But my life no longer revolves around shows. At first it was a little strange, but I've gotten to the point now where I rarely miss it. Once in a while I'm bummed if I'm missing a Pats game, but I have class all day Sundays anyway now, so at this point I really don't miss it. All in all, getting rid of tv has freed me up not just in the sense that I'm not sitting in front of the tube, tied to a schedule there, but also in the sense that I have a lot more brainpower to devote to other things now (such, in my case, as they are).

I found this article disconcerting: TV for the Time-Pressed. Basically it's "if you only watch one show per night, these are the ones to hit." Again, I don't want to come off like I'm on a high horse, even though I know it probably will, but it just seems sad to me, the idea that even if you're time-pressed, one might feel as though at least a show must be watched. I mean, if you're short on time, wouldn't watching tv be a good thing to discard from the schedule? You could instead take a little "me-time," to think, or read, or just be, without stuff being fed into your brain. Maybe my attitude about this is similar to a phenomenon some former smokers have mentioned to me, where, after they quit smoking and were out of the first couple weeks, they got to a point where watching anyone else smoking made them mad. Anyway, I'm not trying to convert anyone, not really ... but I will say that I feel my mind working much more clearly now than it did when I was at my peak of tv-watching hours.

On another note, here's a little interchange I witnessed yesterday. I was boarding a bus from my school's campus that was heading downtown. There was a large group of undergrads all around me, waiting for their buses as well. As I was boarding, a young woman leaned up the stairs behind me and addressed the crotchety old angry bus driver:

Woman: (somewhat confrontationally) Does this go down to the Hospitality Campus?
Driver: (short-temperedly) What does the sign up there say? Huh?
Woman: (scornfully) Pssh! I don't know, I guess I can't read.
Driver: (with equal contempt) You're real smart, guess that's why you got to college.
Woman: (back turned, leaving) Pssshh!

and ... scene

"what revels are in hand?" a midsummer night's dream: v; i

2006-09-15T20:25:00.000-04:00

*Sigh* It's never a good thing when I start yelling back at the radio on my way home from work. I won't get too much into what it was that made me yell at the innocent NPR reporter who was simply delivering the news that I found so abhorent -- in fact, insert your own yell-inducing topic if you like. But it got to the point where I was actually yelling - not in my head, but out loud, directing my gaze at the radio as if it could hear me and might heed my anger, changing the news it was telling me. Some people call it passion, others call it fucking bonkers. When I realized what I was doing, it felt like the latter. So I turned the channel and settled into the thrall of pre-programmed Corporate Radio, those fucking bastards. Oh, right, I forgot; I Have Opinions on that, too. I'm glad my work week is over; put it that way.

The upside of today was that there was a big crate of pumpkins outside the store today, which means it is almost time for my favorite holiday; you guessed it, Arbor Day.

Haha, no, no, of course I'm just kidding; everyone knows Arbor Day is in April. Of course I'm talking about Halloween. I. Love. Halloween. Sadly last year I did not get to "do" anything for Halloween because of work, but even on the years when I don't get to do anything, I still love it. I love the feeling of fall at that time, I like the first few weeks after we change the clocks and it gets dark early (I get tired of that pretty quick though). I like the feeling of Halloween being one of the last nights of outdoor revelry before we all hunker down into our homes for the winter. I'm a dork. I know it.

More than anything, though, I love the stuff that has to do with Halloween itself - the pumpkins on all the stoops, which, a day or two before the holiday, sprout glowing faces; the scarecrows in the yards, those all-out folks who build a whole horror story in their yards, and the costumes. Oh, the costumes!! I'll tell you something about my childhood - my birthday is at the end of August. With no real holidays between my birthday and Halloween, I would often spend the whole of September and October dreaming about, brainstorming for, and building my costume for Halloween. I never had anything super spectacular, but it was always well thought out and, well, my parents always said my costumes were neat. It was doing the work that was fun. Sometimes I would finish my costume well before Halloween and I would get bummed out, having to look at it wasting away in the corner of my bedroom, waiting for that one glorious night when it would get to shine!! And then it would all be over too quickly, one fleeting night, sometimes even so cold that the costume was obscured by the sweatshirt my mom would make me wear. Actually, after a while, I started thinking of costumes that would work well with a sweatshirt.

Recently, the most fun I had for Halloween was when my husband, one of our dear friends, and I decided to hit the town as the I-Don't-Care Bears. Instead of the warm and fuzzy Care Bears, with character names such as Cheer Bear, Friend Bear, Wish Bear, or Do Your Best Bear, we were their ne'er-do-well cousins: Boozy Bear (my husband), Druggie Bear (our friend), and Special Bear (me). Boozy Bear was all black, with a belly emblem of a variety of alcoholic beverages, realistically rendered with eye-popping detail on the martini's olive spear and the beer's foam. Druggie Bear was in all purple, with a belly including a syringe and a lifelike bag of a suspicious crystaline substance. As Special Bear, I was dressed in all yellow, and on my belly was a short school bus. The topper on my costume was the helmet I wore, with stickers on it proclaiming that "God made me special." No doubt I, if not the three of us collectively, are going to hell for that one.

Halloween: Best. Day. of. the. Year.

"i see a woman may be made a fool" the taming of the shrew; iii, ii

2006-09-12T22:47:00.000-04:00

This is great; from MSNBC.com:

Call it Paris in Blunderland.

Richard Branson threw a lavish Mad Hatter-themed 21st birthday party for his son Sam at his Oxfordshire estate on Saturday, and invited Paris Hilton to attend.

The partying heiress agreed and wanted a starring role in the party dressed as Alice, according to reports.

When Branson found out, he ordered the 60 waitresses who would be serving at the party to also dress as Alice, according to the London Daily Mail, which says he pushed the prank further by pretending to mistake Paris for a waitress and ordering a drink from her.

The bash was attended by the U.K.’s A-list, with such guests as Princes William and Harry, Kate Moss, and Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. “It was one hell of a party,” a source told the Mirror. “Paris found herself looking more like Tweedledum as she was surrounded by dozens of other Alices.”

But perhaps the prank’s on Branson. Hilton’s rep tells The Scoop that “to the best of my knowledge” the heiress wasn’t even at the party.

I sincerely doubt Paris Hilton has even read Alice in Wonderland, so that to me makes her desire to be the star of the show dressed as Alice that much funnier. Seriously, who is Paris Hilton that she thinks she ought to be the star of this party, being thrown for someone else's birthday? I love the fact that Branson, rather than simply saying, hey, that's not appropriate, took the wind out of her sails in such a big way.

As for the last paragraph in the piece? I simply choose to ignore it, for my own guilty gratification. Hmph.

"it is my father's music" the winter's tale; iv, iv

2006-09-11T22:53:00.000-04:00

So tonight I went down to a local tavern called Bovi's and listened to their regular Monday night act, a jazz band called the John Allmark Orchestra. These guys really know what they're doing. My father knows pretty much everything there is to know about jazz -- he grew up in NYC, going to clubs to hear Miles, Coltrane, Charlie Parker, and all the rest when they were in their prime -- and he seems to think trumpet player John Allmark and his band are the bees knees, at least in terms of local music, but even just generally. Tonight, Allmark took a solo and my dad leaned over to me and said, "He was just born to do this."

The band finished up their set with a version of "West End Blues" by Louis Armstrong; they did it in a somewhat more modern blues style than the recording at the above link ... and anyway, hearing that style of music, for some reason, one of my favorite scenes in a crappy movie popped into my head.

The scene is from Adventures in Babysitting. Chris has followed her asshole boyfriend into a blues bar (this being Chicago and all), and when she's ready to leave she finds herself trapped, confronted with an agressive band, whose leader insists that "nobody leaves this place without singing the blues". AND SO SHE DOES! At first everything she says to try to explain her way out of it is agressively punctuated by the band with the classic blues riff "da-DAH-da-da-dah!" - but have no fear, she gets into it quite quickly - she does after all, have quite a lot to sing the blues about.

THEY JUST DON'T MAKE MOVIES LIKE THIS ANYMORE! I'm sorry, you would never see this happen in a movie today. Not even close. The only teen movie I can think of that even approaches this kind of lighthearted goofiness is maybe "10 Things I Hate About You," with its funny little scene where Heath Ledger sings "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" over the school stadium PA. But that's SO NOT EVEN CLOSE.

Of course, some people would say that it's a good thing that they don't make movies like this anymore.

But not me! I love how absurd they are! I know they're not Good Movies. But they were made with such earnestness that I find them impossible not to love.

I know almost all my posts so far have referenced some dumbass bit of 80s pop culture, and if that irritates any of the 3 readers of this blog, well, too bad. This is the culture that shaped me, for better or worse! And I look on it fondly.

Oh, one other thing I feel I have to mention: there is an enigmatic listing on IMDB when you search for "Adventures in Babysitting" - it has the 1987 movie I referenced earlier, and a TV pilot version that came out shortly after that, but then it says "Adventures in Babysitting (2008)." When you click on it, it says that info is only available to members of IMDBpro. But all I can assume is that Hollywood has yet again shown itself unable to come up with new ideas and is about to remake this movie! Can you even imagine how they will update this movie? It will be horrible!!! Part of what made the movie great was that it came from a time when you could still believe that a group of kids from the suburbs would be awestruck by The City and all the dark dirtiness that lives and thrives there. Nowadays, cities are all Disneyfied anyway; there's nothing to be scared of. Just pop into the nearest Johnny Rockets if you're lost in a city and the waiters will serenade you with "YMCA" until your mom can come pick you up. I don't smell boxoffice sucess with this one, but I saw "Snakes on a Plane" at the 10pm pre-opening show. So what do I know.

"marvellous sweet music!" the tempest: iii, iii

2006-09-07T19:54:00.000-04:00

I'm not going to be shy about admitting that I am a child of the 80s. I was born in the late 70s and my predominant childhood memories are all in the 80s. Since I wasn't a teenager in the 80s, my perception of being a teenager in the 80s was shaped by the movies and music and television that was all around me. My babysitters all watched MTV - yes, we were able to be transfixed even though "all they did" was play music videos. By the time the 90s had rolled around, I was already well into the world-weary preteen years, already looking back at what I thought was my wasted childhood and my inability to return to those halcyon days. The 80s were a simpler time, a time when technology still seemed to hold the keys to the future, when we could still say "cool!" when we saw a computer in someone's house, but it was the turning point, too, a time when somehow there was a balance between naive wonder at the world before us as well as a new understanding of the problems of our world, and how we as a generation would have to face them, and use the new tools at our disposal to try and make the world a better place. Even though every generation says this, it was a unique time that shaped my view of the world today.

(Oh, a side note before I continue. To the very sweet, very friendly, very young people that I seem to encounter a lot lately as the new school year gets in full swing: You are adorable. You are fresh-faced and naive, and your determination and upbeat attitude is refreshing to me. My only advice to you in dealing with folks of "my generation" -- who, let's face it, are really only about 8 to 12 years older than you -- is this. If you're going to ask my age, that's fine, I will answer gladly; I'm not one of those women who won't reveal her age. But when I reply gamely "Twenty-nine," try to avoid widening your eyes and saying "Wow!" It tends to be off-putting. And the half-hearted follow up of "you don't look twenty-nine" barely covers things. Just letting you know.)

Well, back to my original point. I'm a child of the 80s, and my perception of life has been shaped by that fact. So, it is with a little trepidation and a fair amount of embarrassment that I admit the following fact about myself: I often think in music montages. That's right, you know those scenes popularized in the teen flicks of the 80s where, to get the point across of some kind of dynamic action taking place over the course of time, the only sound is a catchy song with lyrics that barely tie into the plot and the scenes show the progression of action happening quickly so we can get to the happy denoument. Well. Sometimes - ok, a lot of times, and it happens even more now that I have an iPod - I'll be doing a very normal, everyday thing, such as laundry, and I'll imagine it all going down as a musical montage. As I pull up to the laundromat, the opening riff of Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes" will play in my head, and every mundane action as I do my wash will appear in my head as a cut shot in a montage set to that song. It's .... well, let's face it, it's a little pathetic.

The culprit for this disorder is one of two movies:

The Breakfast Club, "We Are Not Alone" (Karla DeVito). This one was key because it was about teens and high school, and I was very influenced by anything I thought older kids were doing. At first glance, this scene doesn't seem quite so much a montage as it is just a crappy dance scene, but it skyrockets into montage range when they do the cuts of different characters dancing on the railing. Highlights include Judd Nelson dry humping the sculpture, Molly Ringwald showing off her super-cool princess outfit as she dances on the landing, and Emilio Estevez playing air guitar in all his stonewashed-jean glory. These kids didn't have much in common, but crappy pseudo-rock brought them to new levels of understanding.

The Karate Kid, "You're the Best" (Joe Esposito). Possibly the gold standard by which all movie music montages must be judged. It has a lot going for it, from the clenched fist of approval from the Cobra Kai Sensai, to the twitchy-classic-jock-neck-cracking performed by the bleach blond Cobra Kai lackey before he enters the ring with Daniel-san, to Mr. Miyagi's passive onlooking, joined by a chipper Elizabeth Shue. What makes this montage so spectacular is that they show the match officials moving Daniel-san's name placard up and up on the tournament standings chart, to indicate him moving effortlessly through to the championships. Most important, they chose a song that really kicks it into the next level through the use of switching between major and minor keys, really building up the tension and getting you ready for the all-time classic Sweep-the-Leg Moment ("Put him in a body bag, yeah!") that follows shortly after. You can't beat this top-notch montage.

In any case, this problem is one I'm going to have to live with. So, fresh-faced youngsters, if you catch me bopping my head and singing to myself as I carry out an everyday task, just chalk it up to the fact that in my head, I'm living it up in the old days. Just try not to say "Wow."

"a bountiful answer that fits all questions" all's well that ends well: ii; ii

2006-09-05T19:58:00.000-04:00

I'm fascinated today by the idea of internet quizzes. I saw one today on someone's myspace page that was "which zodiac fairy are you?" and I couldn't resist, so I went ahead and took it. The questions were "1. When does your birthday fall (most important)" and gave a list of the normal divisions of months associated with the zodiac we know. "2. What is your favorite planet or formation??" (the two question marks are as they appeared in the quiz) and "3. What is your favorite color?", giving a list of absurd colors, none of which really fit the bill for me. So I answered as well as I could and was given a zodiac fairy that doesn't match up with my actual sign and didn't really match up with my character traits either. I reanswered several times and finally came up with a list of traits that fit me, which also happened to be my zodiac sign as well. Huh. Of course, the questions were not answered correctly for me at that point, but I got the result that seemed right, so I guess it all worked out in the end. Maybe I was learning something about the way I answered the questions in the first place!

So it got me wondering about these internet quizzes. Am I missing something about myself? Maybe there are sides of me that I don't see clearly, sides that only a quiz written by someone ten years my junior with some basic knowledge of the internet can reveal to me! So I started poking around to see what I could learn about myself.

My Geek Profile states that my highest Geek Level is in Music, followed by Movies, with smaller Geek Level showings in the areas of Academics, Fashion, and being a Gamer, and I have no Geek Levels in the areas of General Geekiness and SciFi. Not too much new there, although I would have thought a lifetime of watching Star Trek and TNG would have gotten me something for SciFi. Shows how much I know.

Could I pass 8th Grade History? Well, yes, I could, which makes sense, because I did. Although I am embarrassed to admit I missed a question (they don't tell you which one though!)

What kind of coffee am I? According to this quiz, I am iced coffee. "At your best, you are: hyper, modern, and athletic. At your worst, you are: cheap and angsty. You drink coffee when: you're out with friends. Your caffeine addiction level: medium." Hmmm. This is interesting. I never knew I was cheap and angsty. Heck, I didn't even really know there was such a word, but this internet quiz has proven otherwise. "Hyper, modern, athletic;" I kind of sound like a hybrid car, don't I? It's also good that this quiz told me when I drink coffee, because I hadn't noticed.

What's my Hidden Talent? Now this one sounded promising, and it delivered! All I had to do was click on the picture that appealed to me most, and presto! it told me what my hidden talent is!! "Your natural talent is interpersonal relations and dealing with people. You communicate well and are able to bring disparate groups together. Your calming presence helps everything go more smoothly. People crave your praise and complements." Now I know! Maybe I should try to get a position at the UN or something! Thanks, internet quiz!

Finally, in starting up this new blog, I thought I should find out What Kind of Blogger I am. And - readers beware - apparently I am a "Snarky Blogger," which means that I've "got a razor sharp wit that bloggers are secretly scared of. And that's why they read [my] posts as often as they can!" So things are off to a good start for me! I'll try not to disappoint, Dear Reader.

"but what care i for words?" as you like it: iii; v

2006-09-04T21:52:00.000-04:00

I say I'm a recovering English major in my profile, but it's not entirely accurate. More correct would be to say that I'm an English major who's found her calling not to be in reading and writing English, but who still harbors a crush on it as a hobby. I get a kick out of the written word; it's pretty astonishing to think how language has developed and evolved and devolved. I try to be observant of language patterns in our changing culture, and so I read a lot of different, and in some cases, crappy, literature and media. Along the way, I often pick up amusing anecdotes that have not so much to do with language, but more about how absurd life can be.

Like this.

If, like our president, you're not what we call a "reader", here's the Reader's Digest: A British biographer named A.N. Wilson wrote a biography of the British poet John Betjeman, who had, apparently, stated late in his life that he wished he had had more sex. He was married and it was assumed his sex life was dull. Well, the biographer received a letter that supposedly revealed an extramarital affair between Betjeman and another writer; it was apparently a love letter from him, and Wilson printed the letter in the biography saying there had been this affair. Ok, here's the thing: it was a hoax. The letter was a fake, and not only that, but encoded in one section of the letter, using the first letter of each word, was the sentence "A.N. Wilson is a shit." Nice!!!! But ok, here's the other thing: the letter came from an unknown correspondent using a French return address, but the letter was postmarked in London.

Now, I'm not a fancy-schmancy biographer or anything, so maybe I'm overthinking things, but it seems to me that before actually publishing a letter received from an unknown person in a book about someone else, one might take care to research the contents of that letter, and perhaps check other sources to corroborate, or, at the very least, cast some degree of authenticity on the whole matter.

What's worst about the whole thing, for this dumb-ass biographer, is that it seems that he was informed of the hoax by the Sunday London Times, who pointed out the nasty encoded message to him, and he was left lamely saying "I should have smelled a rat." Smelled a rat? No, good sir, it is not that you should have smelled a rat, it is that you should have simply done your job.

* * *

Well, I am trying to finish up a book about Shakespeare, so I'll close for now. Shakespeare: now there's a guy who liked to play with words. If he didn't find a word he liked for what he was trying to express, he just made one up! And a lot of them stuck! To name a few: impartial, jaded, gloomy, premeditated, frugal, and zany. I find that to be ... well .... transtounding.