Sunday, June 30, 2002
I am starting to consider taking part in Blogathon 2002 in support of Planned Parenthood. What do yall think? If I do it, I will need to have at least three sponsors by July 20th.
After Leann pointed out the Donnie Darko website on her blog, I've spent at least a couple of hours in rapt fascination. Definately shows the potential the internet has as a medium. Another excellent flash site that I have come across is for Mini US. (Also check out the UK site if you'd like.) Lukifer and I came across it while looking for info online for an interesting car he'd seen, which turned out to be the Mini Cooper S. Definately the most fun I've ever had on a car site.
Granted, I got very little sleep again last night, so my brain isn't all too clear right now. However, this seems so ridiculous....at least to my western Christian mind. Driving is a privilege, not a right. Sultaana Freeman wants to wear her veil in her driver's liscence photo, due to her religious beliefs. Well, in Saudi Arabia, and other many other Islamic countries, women aren't even allowed to drive. Not being allowed to drive means that wearing a full veil is not a problem. In America, most people pver the age of sixteen can drive, so long as they pass the tests. Along with the privilege of driving, you also have to responsiblity to prove your identity and certification to any officers of the law who may stop you while driving. If they can not see your face, they can not identify you. Fingerprinting is not a practical means of roadside ID, as even the clearest fingerprints can require expert analysis for a positive match.
Besides all of that, wouldn't a veil that only leaves the eyes uncovered become a hinderance while driving? It seems to me that it would cut into the peripheral vision.
Thursday, June 27, 2002
BTW, I am now a part of the Shadow Project. Coincidentally, I have my own collection of shadow, sillhouette, and low-light photos that is going to become my third web gallery.
I have been pondering how ridiculous the phrase "try to get some sleep" sounds. Sleep is supposed to be the absence of effort, after all. Trying generally indicates wakefulness.
Urk, if I think about this one too much, I might make my head creak.
A long time ago, in another lifetime, someone I was friends with told me, "Rest peacefully now and forget about the whole thing, 'kay?." Sounds like good advice. I should take it and try to get some sleep...oh, wait.
I have far less problems with the Pledge without that 1954 addition. I also dislike the "In God We Trust" on money, etc. Mind you, I am a Christian. I think the freedom from religion people can go just as overboard as the religious right do. However, this country is not, nor should it be, a theocracy.
While coming back from my 15-minute break along the river, I decided not to take the footbridge. It had become infested with rowdy high school boys, and I was so not in the mood for that. So, I took the railroad bridge. Walking on the ties made me a little dizzy, and walking the rail would take too long, so I chose to walk on the long planks next to the rails. The problem is, there isn't too much underneath those planks, and the are kind of old. Bad choice. Halfway across the bridge, on of the planks popped up suddenly at the end as I stepped on it. Turns out, they are warped so badly that the nails have come up in places. Luckily, it only starled me and threw my balance. I was not plunged down into the river, or even made to twist my ankle. There was a short yet fervent prayer, and I headed back to work, covered in sweat.
On the way home from work this evening, traffic on the beltline was pretty bad. All of a sudden, some chain of events that happened to quickly to catch had me slamming on my brakes and steering towards the shoulder (and the center median wall) to avoid hitting the car ahead of me who was also braking and swerving. Again, nothing came of it other than a pounding pulse and some shaky nerves, but it was very close and would have been very bad for everybody involved.
I have an awful lot to say right now, however I am worried that I will Dooce myself into more trouble. Of course, this sucks, as I have been left no where to vent, and I have a lot to vent about at the moment. There are some out there who act as though I have no legitimate cause for grievance, and I end up in a vicious cycle of hurt feelings and accusations. No winning, really.
Much later: Gawd, *that* sounded bitter.
Needless to say, this is going to be fairly link heavy for awhile.
La la la. I walked out of band rehersal, feeling better than I'd felt all day when--doubletake--parked right next to the building is the oh-so-distinctive vehicle of someone of whom I would be much happier not to even be reminded. Massive SUV spilling out of a small car only space like an adult foot from a child's slipper. It gave me a bit of a turn. It also reminded my that the gods have an odd sense of humor. My life must be pure comedy right now.
Good, but not so good that I'd rave about it. (Granted, I saw it for free, and that always helps my opinion.) It had some good visual effects, and the plot had some good tension. There were a couple of stomach-turningly gross moments, including one involving ancient fridge leftovers that almost made me lose my sushi.
The acting was unremarkable, for the most part. I was pretty much drawn in by the visuals and the plot. I also realized most of the ending about 3/4 of the way in....which seems to have been a little earlier than they wanted you to get it.
It doesn't give away too much of the plot to mention that a big part of the movie hinges on the stopping crime before it happens vs. punishing people who haven't done anything yet question. (Which is due to become the big media "wag the dog" cliche of the summer, given our "Homeland Security" situation.) What I would like to know is why it never occurs to anyone to combine those two. Find out a murder is going to happen, stop it from happening, and let everyone go. Sure, maybe provide counseling, or charge them with disorderly conduct, or keep an eye on them in the future.....maybe probation or something. Sure, knowing that if you even think about murder will get you put away forever might be a deterent, but wouldn't knowing that you would never be allowed to go through with the act also be a deterent? (Granted, that would still leave the question of ethical treatment of precogs, but that's another story. Just a movie, after all.)
All in all I think you could see this movie at full price without shame. (There were also some great trailers before the feature.)
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Funny. I always thought that the fable of The Fox and the Grapes was meant to show that "it is easy to despise what you cannot get" is a little on the petty and foolish side. (Though I could be wrong.)
So why do so many people used that method to try and comfort others? "That's OK. You can do much better anyway." WTF? (I wonder if anyone told AL Gore that after the election.) Not only does that sound a little childish, but doesn't it send a little message of "You were wrong to want that in the first place."?
And what if they really can't do much better? You have 2.0 GPA and didn't get into Harvard? That's ok, you can do much better anyway. You have no skills and the personality of an oyster and didn't land that dream job? That's ok, you can do much better anyway. Bah! Ridiculous. If you feel the need to comfort someone, at least have the respect to not lie to them.
So far, an interesting night: sushi and a movie. Then a walk down the wonder that is State Street in the summer. I've got a rose over my ear, so the whole world constantly smells like flowers.
I saw Minority Report at the Orpheum. I will review it later. Right now, just time to get the night's details before I forget.
Stopped for a bit of sushi before the show. The guy sitting next to me was attempting to chat me up. I'm never comfortable being hit on by strangers....one of the reasons for my unfortunate habit for dating friends. I tend to assume that there is something seriously wrong with the guy.
The guy at the sushi bar was slightly grungy looking, in a creepy long-haired sort of way. Probably a very nice guy, but I kept the conversation minimal and left.
As I was walking down State St., however, I ended up giving my phone number to a complete stranger. How did this happen you ask? More later....
LATER: So the Memorial Union closed before I could finish that entry. Here it is.
I was heading down State Street after the movie, going to see what was up at the Terrace. Not even a block from the Orpheum, a guy coming from the other direction stopped me and invited me to an after party. I smiled, laughed and shook my head, but he just kept on talking. Very good looking, very charming and no bad vibes, but still a stranger on the street. Eventually he asked for my phone number. I'm not really sure why, but I gave it to him. Well, that is to say I gave him my cell phone number. No last name, no home phone, just a mobile number. I figured that would be pretty neutral. We then kept on going in our seperate directions. I was shaking my head in disbelief, wondering if that had really happened. Seems there is already a message on my voicemail, so I guess it did.
(For any of you who may be concerned, rest assured that I have no intention of ending up dead in a ditch somewhere or anything.)
After the hitting the Union, I then ran into my sister, her boyfriend and two of her girlfriends on State. I had already seen my brother and a guy who also plays percussion in summer band, so I thought I'd already hit my obligatory "run into someone you know" for the night. Guess not. We all headed down to the lake behing the Union Terrace and sat on the pier for awhile. The girls shared my amazement at what had happened.
Why does it seem like it is suddenly raining men? I was also being majorly hit on Tuesday night. Argh! Do I have sign on my forehead? Has my dark "don't talk to me or you will regret being born" aura worn off? I really don't know how I feel about this. It isn't me. I swear.
"There's only one thing That I know how to do well And I've often been told that you only can do What you know how to do well And that's be you, Be what you're like, Be like youself, And so I'm having a wonderful time But I'd rather be whistling in the dark."
At a glance, it appears to be snowing outside. Either that or someone is having a large pillow fight. Wisps of cottony tree-seeds are blowing through the air in a vertiable blizzard of fuzz. The ground is covered with fluffy white drifts that won't melt in the hottest sun. Funny thing is, I don't remember seeing this phenomenon before last year. Either I am a really oblivious person with a bad memory or I've never lived in a neighborhood with these trees.
A tree that I do remember dearly and fondly is the NorthernCatalpa. Big tall trees with wide leaves and large, sweet smelling flowers. We had one on the easement by our house when I was little. The flowers would drop onto the sidewalk and my sister and I would gather them up to try making leis. After the flowers were gone, the tree would grow long, thin bean pods which were also great fun were they dropped off in the fall. After they dried, the seed pods made excellent rattles. I was so sad when the city cut it down. (Nope, never been fond of change.)
Wow, could yesterday have possibly been lousier? As far as solstices go, it was not my favorite. In fact, until about 9PM, my main driving goal was to go home, crawl into bed and not come out ever again. And it was muggy, too, which always amplifies things for me.
Things did pick up around 9. A woman I know was having a slumber party. Yup, a bunch of grown-up women at a slumber party. While there was a noticable lack of Seventeen magazine, no one got a make-over, and there were no prank phone calls made, it was very old-school. The fact that we spent a large part of the night in a tent in the back yard made it even more so. Although, I don't recall there ever being booze at the sleep-overs of my youth, but maybe I was just sheltered. All in all, it was very good bonding time, and made me feel much better.
Apparently, tonight I am going to Chicago for the bachelorette party of someone I don't even know. Not really in the mood to deal with any more wedding related things, but it will get me out of town.
UPDATE: Well, the person I was going to Chicago with has had to cancel. (She was the original party invitee.) She got her car's oil change yesterday. After driving around all day running errands, she discovered that they hadn't replaced the cap, and her engine was pretty bereft of oil. Needless to say, driving didn't seem like good option.
Keep your fingers crossed for me. I am driving to Milwaukee/Thiensville tomorrow, and I just got my own car's oil changed today.
Oh, I also finally figured out the foreboding, prophetic-ish dream I had about a month ago. It all totally makes sense now. However, I would just like to reiterate how ridiculous it is to get a warning of the future that doesn't make sense until after the fact. Main reason I don't fret over them when they happen. Ponder, ye. Fret, no.
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
Among the things I have to work on (besides learning how to become a Real Live Grown-up, or at least a passable imitation of one) are divesting myself of the slew of dreadful habits I have acquired over the years. I have a feeling if I ever found myself talking to an exact replica of myself at a party, I would be gnawing my own arm off to escape the other me. Many of the things that I can glimpse in myself are things that drive me bugging nuts in other people.
For example:
*Mumbling. Good Lord! Speak up and enunciate!
*(Lame) Smart-ass remarks. Sarcasm does not equal wit, and even if it is funny, it may not be appropriate.
*Talking just to talk. Ack! To quote a wise man I knew way back when, "Before you talk, stop. Think. Then think some more. If you still feel the urge to talk, ask yourself,'What would Nick Wren do?' Then don't talk." (OK, I'm totally paraphrasing, but it's been at least four years. He was a lot funnier and twice as effective.)
*Interrupting people. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay bad. (Of course, now I've got that "interrupting cow" knock-knock joke in my head.)
*Swearing. Wash your mouth out!
*Running late. For cry-ai, check your watch!
*Etc. etc. etc.
It is an uphill battle, of course but I am glad to be doing it. If I can annoy myself, I can't imagine what I must seem like to others. Fortunately, some of my most godawful habits are one that I picked up in recent years from friends and roommates. Swearing, for example, is a newer development. It used to shock and stun people when I swore. I'm not exactly a stevedore, but my language is a little more peppered with profanity than I think is classy. Time to get more inventive.
Anywho, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I know that I will never be perfect in this life. I imagine that as I shuck old bad habits, I am picking up new ones, but such is the way of life: constant striving. Otherwise, what's the point?
Some somgs just make me unreasonsably happy, no matter what the circumstances. Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" is one of those songs. It cam on my car radio today on my way home and brought me right out of my funk for as many miles as it played. *Big smile.*
("American Girls" by Counting Crows is becoming another one of those songs...it is playing at this very moment. Where would I be without music?)
Reading over what I wrote last night it sort of makes sense, but also seems a little on the verbose and ahrd to read side of things. This indicates that I should not post at 2AM and/or try to read anything before 9AM. Not sure which of those is applicable. (I am still in that muzzy morning haze. Yergh.)
This post will make sense to some of you (good for you if it does) and leave others scratching your heads (even better for you in that case):
So, my world was set spinning in a strange direction recently. Something very precious to me is now missing. Kind of a severe bitch slap to my reality. Ya know, the kind that makes you wonder who you are and what you are doing here....that sort of thing. I suppose it didn't help matters that I was a little out of sorts already on a "where am I going?" binge. Nothing like adding more questions to the pot. Honestly, I've probably been a wonky little freak at times.
Growing pains? Ack, I'm 26 years old and still trying to figure out how to be a grown-up. Does anyone ever figure it out? When? The stakes get so high for so many decisions. So much of what you do become permanent, or at least hard to undo without major effort. There are contracts and responsiblities with legal and financial ramifications. Affairs of the heart are more tangled than playgorund crushes ever were. Damn, it's so daunting! (whine*whine*whine)
Basically, I think I've been going about like a Weeble, and it shows. Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down. (C'mon, who remembers?) A little bit this way, a little bit that way: talks too much, talks not at all; silly to the point of misbehaviour, serious stick-in-the-mud; responsible decision maker, wavering waffler.... Sure, it does keep you from falling flat on your face, but how ridiculous do you look? Part of growing up is knowing that sometimes you have to take a stand. It may get you knocked over, but you stopped wobbling.
Other parts of growing up: doing things that scare you, accepting change, and taking responsiblity for your own actions. Still working on those, too.
So, if you see me being a wonky little freak, please be gentle. Take my hand and remind me that I am 26, not 6, and that I need to stand up tall like a big girl. Point out to me when I am misbehaving, but realize that I already know and am ashamed of it on my own.
Maybe I need to find a mentor.
Ok, enough non-sensical navel-gazing. Time for bed, young lady!
Small good things in my life, while not balancing a big shitty bad thing, are at least giving me pleasant distraction.
Rehersal for the UW Summer Band began last night. I haven't been in a band since my third or fourth year of college, so I was quite rusty. However, it felt very good to be banging on a big bass drum and crashing the cymbals again. (I even get to play tambourine!)
Tonight I went to another Pat McCurdy show. Twas awesome. It was an energetic night, and even went overtime by ten minutes. I saw old friends, made some new ones, and hung out with my sister. There was a brief game of euchre, cheese curds and beer, drinking songs, funny dances,general approval for the new tattoo, and rousing sympathy for my current crappy situation. It cheered me up, at least for a little while, and what more can you asked for in life? (Especially on a Tuesday night?)
Tuesday, June 18, 2002
"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." -FDR
I'd say that pretty much sums it up for me right now. Being afraid of things does shitty things to you. Sure, there is healthy fear....being afraid of electrocution can keep you from putting a radio next the the bathtub. Being afraid of getting your head smashed will get your seat belt buckled. Being afraid of severe abdominal cramping will cause you to check the date on your milk carton.
But should you be afraid of trying new things? Not really. Should you be afraid to show people that you care? No. Should you always be afraid of getting hurt of rejected by new people? Uh-uh. Should you be afraid of clowns? (Well, yes, you should be afraid of clowns. That's a given.)
Monday, June 17, 2002
Oh, timing in my life is soooo lousy. It looks like Korea is a no-go for now. I'd have to pay too much money to get out of my new apartment agreement. Argh. Why can't things ever work in a proper order?
Ladies and gentlemen, I've discovered the worst sort of nausea ever: I haven't been able to keep anything down other than tea, but I still have an appetite. Usually, when I'm nauseous, I can't even *think* about food. Now all I really want is a bacon cheeseburger and deep fried cheese curds. (Hmmmm, maybe this is why I'm nauseous in the first place.) Fortunately for me, no one sells those things at this hour of the morning, so I'm not about to experiment with that.
OK, time for some more tea, and maybe some soda crackers.
Ooooooooh. The burst of energy I had yesterday is all gone. I feel all wrung out and nauseous. At least the weather matches my mood. I'd love to take a nap, if only my poor little tummy would calm down. Any one got some Pepto?
I just realized something. Due to incredibley lousy timing, I am going to have to cough up a bunch money for the apartment I found if I decide to leave the country instead of taking it. Shit.
Saturday, June 15, 2002
Getting the tattoo was interesting, to say the least. Even getting to the parlor was a challenge. I discovered (after getting there) that the Monroe Street location had been closed. I then drove to the downtown shop, only to have to wait at a stoplight for several minutes while a parade of protestors to the U.S. Conference of Mayors went by. However, once I got in, things went quickly. I was there for no more than 20 minutes, tops.
The tattooing itself hurt like the blazes. I think it really does compare to fire. Still, I didn't get twitchy or anything, and it was over quickly. After all, I've been through a lot of things that hurt: distance running, dental work, having packing removed from my sinuses post-surgery....ow. The pain has diminished to pretty much nothing now. It is just a flesh wound, as the Black Knight would say.
A much better book than a movie. The book was an excellent piece of literature. The movie was a mildy enjoyable chick-flick that I got to see for free. Not a movie for guys. Take your sister or your girlfriend or your mom. However, I don't quite recommend it as a full price thing, unless money isn't a big deal to you at all. Matinee, second-run budget cinema, or rental. No doubt you will be able to catch it on Lifetime in a year or so.
Panic Room
This movie, on the other hand, I would have seen for full price if I hadn't been so damn broke when it first came out. Very well done. The camera work was impressive, the acting was solid, and the plot was suspenseful and well paced. The time flew by while the movie played, and I had to remind myself to relax. A movie for either gender, though not for the squeamish.
Ugh. More packing today. I am developing my yearly aversion to cardboard boxes.
Meanwhile the great outdoors is taunting me. The sky gets ominous and cloudy, so I settle down to my packing and my library copy of The Golden Compass. As soon as I get going, the sun will burst out in all of its enticing glory. I resolve to get the bike back out for an afternoon ride, and out come the clouds again. Bah!
Funny bit from last night. While trying to purchase a beer with my meal in a downtown eatery, my driver's license was given the thrice-over, and then I was asked for a second form of ID. I guess the fact that my hair has grown out long and blonde, while my driver's license photo still sports the short red-haired bob cut of two years ago.
Ugh. Last night's dream was downright scary. Being attacked by an anti-Semite with a serrated steak knife does not make for a pleasant sleep. Especially strange was the fact that my dream antogonist was a neo-nazi...I'm not Jewish. You'd think I'd have a Protestant boogie man. Granted, neo-nazi's are no one's friend. Still......<shudder>.....very glad to wake up.
BTW, I am learning not to tell people what/who I think they look like, even if I think it is a good thing. "Your shirt looks like kitchen curtains" is never a big hit. (Nevermind that I *like* kitchen curtains in a nostalgic, comforting sort of way. One of my favorite sundresses has "kitchen curtains" written all over it.) On the other hand, you look like Laura Ingalls went over ok.
Memo to self: just say, "you look nice" and leave it at that.
The Avalon Theater. One of my favorite movie houses as a kid. We would go there for $1.25 (or cheaper) shows. I remember seeing 101 Dalmations there for the first time ever. Ditto for Jurassic Park.
While I was sad to read that it had closed down, I was delighted when I learned that Henry Doane had bought it and was planning on reopening it. Yippy!
(I know another tidbit about this, but I don't want to jinx it in any way, so I will just cross my fingers and wait.)
Anyway, the LGP leaders for my grade were a couple of fishwives. None of us liked them, and they didn't like us. For some strange reason, they decided that every girl in our class (about 8-10 7th grade girls) was a slut, and that we were in need of deportment. (Granted, they themselves were rather skanky.)
As a part of our "Good Grooming" unit, they took us to a fashion show at a little modeling school on Kinnickinnic Ave (AKA "KK". Bonus points if you can pronounce it.). The show was, of course, put on by their students. Both the "fashion" and the modeling skills were pretty sparse. After the show, the woman in charge of the modeling school began pressuring us girls to sign up for modeling classes. As I recall, a couple of the more awkward girls actually did. However, the "school" was so crappy that it didn't help much. All it did was take their money and a bit of their time. I remember that it made me sad.
Thursday, June 13, 2002
Of course, having said all that about chemical stimulants, I am currently partaking in a beer and a chocolate bar.
The beer is Leinie'sCreamy Dark. (I have a hard time imagining living in a place where I couldn't get Leinie's.) While I'm not a big alcohol drinker, I was born and raised in Milwaukee, WI, and acquired the taste for beer at a very early age. ("Daddy, can I have sip?")
The chocolate, on the other hand. Whew! Straight chocolate always seems to hit me right between the eyes. Now there's a kick!
On the upside, at least one of the mysteries that has been bugging me lately got sorted out today. Woo-hoo! Granted, I'm still working on things like "what do I want to be when I grow up" but that may come eventually.
The dentist appointment wasn't as bad as I'd feared, either. My teeth don't hurt like they did last time. We did discover, however, that I am not the sort of person who enjoys nitrous oxide. I had been given it long ago, when I was a kid, and had no problems with it. This time though, the disconnected, tingly feeling got on my nerves very fast. I asked them to stop the nitrous before they even got around to the novacaine. Given my lack luster reactions to other chemicals, I guess I am just one of those people who gets no kick.
Wednesday, June 12, 2002
Oh peachy. I just realized that I have a dentist appt. tomorrow after work. For more fillings. I get to pay a lot of money to have my mouth put into a lot of pain. (Too bad I'm not a masochist, I might actually like that.)
I should just read my book and go to bed, so I stop thinking about this stuff and getting more cranky. Good night all.
In more fun news, my new camera should show up any day now. I also have a ton of film on its way (for said camera). Taking pictures with it ought to distract me from what seems like an impending shipwreck.
I don't know. Really. I can't even pretend to understand what is going on in my life anymore, or at least at the moment. If someone has a copy of the script, would they please forward it to me? I seem to have forgotten my lines, and the stage directions don't make sense.
After tonight, all I can say is, "What the fuck?!?"
Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Woke up from a night of strange and vivid dreams. Not the usual late-night entertainment, either. Last night's dreams seem to have been CNN broadcasts from my subconcious. Apparently, my brain is going into overtime, trying to sort everything out for me. *sigh* Somehow, I think I would prefer that they just stayed entertaining.
Bah, I'm still to muzzy to blog. I should just get dressed and go to work.
Here's the deal. I am trying to make a decision, and I keep going back and forth on it. I could flip a coin. I could consult the tarot. I could play eenie-meenie-meinie-moe. However, I am going to put it to a vote by you, the readers. (All, what, two of you?)
There is a catch. You don't get to know what the hell I am trying to decide. Bwah-hah-hah! How's that for arbitrary? So, if you would like to randomly influence a major decision in my life, open the comments link and vote yes or no. (For extra credit, you can explain your vote.) I will keep the vote going until this post falls off the front page (two weeks, I think) and then tally it up. (Shouldn't take too long.) I'll let you know what happened when it is all other. (Just like regular US politics, if you think about it.)
This was one of my favorite photos to take, ever. In order to take it, I had to perch precariously (camera and all) on a tree limb hanging out over Lake Wingra. April, my gracious model, plunged gamely into the still warmish waters of late September, and clung to the tree with her right arm to maintain a bit of stability.
Looking at it makes me want to get out my camera and do it (or something similar) again. Unfortunately, since college, most of the people who I knew that were willing to dress up in costumes and be photographed have moved out of town. The few that remain tend to be busy with work. Can't afford to hire a model, so I guess I am going to have to start convicing more of the people I know that they really want to play dress up.
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6/9/2002 05:24:39 PMlink
Hmmm, I wonder if any of the MeFites commenting on this realize that the article is a joke. Not trying to put anyone down, here, but they all sounded so serious about it!
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6/9/2002 04:47:32 PMlink
Argh! Blogger ate my post! Must remember to type them in Simple Text and copy/paste.
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6/9/2002 01:01:06 PMlink
Saturday, June 08, 2002
"Running away- let's do it, Free from the ties that bind. No more depair Or burdens to bear Out there in the yonder.
Running away- go to it. Where did you have in mind? Have to take care: Unless there's a "where," You'll only be wandering blind. Just more questions. Different kind.
Where are we to go? Where are we ever to go?
Running away- we'll do it. Why sit around, resigned? Trouble is, son, The farther you run, The more you feel undefined For what you've left undone And, more, what you've left behind." --Mysterious Old Man, Into the Woods by Stephen Sondheim.
Ya know, he's got a point there.
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6/8/2002 11:36:01 PMlink
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6/8/2002 10:17:42 PMlink
Speaking of other editions of books, check out the international covers of Neil's books. Sometime I find myself jealous of other cover art. Maybe one day, when I have actual spending money, I might become one of those people who track down alternate edtions of things they already own. Most of the time, people do that for musical recording, but I can see myself tracking down the UK and Canada releases of book that I like, just for the cover art and the small text changes.
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6/8/2002 10:03:50 PMlink
I am terribly giddy with anticipation for the release (audio and book) of Neil Gaiman's Coraline. Not only have I loved everything I have ever read of his, but he thinks it is the best thing he has ever written. Goody. Mousecircus.com is also absolutely beautiful, with excerpts from the book (with text and audio--it is interesting to see the subtle contrasts between the two. The text seems to be UK, while the audio is US. Small vernacular differences like chips vs. french fries. I've read and watched enough British pop that I catch the meanings, but I guess it does help some people.) and cool flash animations. They do warn that children experience the book as an adventure, but that it gives adults nightmares. It still remains to be seen, but I have a feeling that I will find it to be an adventure.
As much as I adored American Gods, Neverwhere remains my favorite of his solo novels. I have a feeling that Coraline may be its rival.
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6/8/2002 09:59:40 PMlink
*Playing a 50¢ game of Bingo across the table from a woman with about twelve cards in front of her, and watching the game be one by another guy with only one card.
*Paying $2 for a small plastic cup of mediocre beer, and not even caring.
*Singing along to good covers of great bar-rock songs in ankle-deep grass.
*Being flirted with on the dance floor by a cute stranger.
*Spotting someone you went to grade school with (in another sitting) across the dance floor in the beer tent.
"Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Because I don't want leave you lonely But you got to make me change my mind
Baby I got your number and I know that you got mine But you know that I called you, I called too many times You can call me baby, you can call me anytime But you got to call me
Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Because I don't want leave you lonely But you got to make me change my mind
I don't want no one to squeeze me, they might take away my life I don't want no one to squeeze me, they might take away my life I just want someone to hold me and rock me through the night
This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need But I'm too old to go chasing you around Wasting my precious energy
Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Because I don't want leave you lonely But you got to make me change my mind
Baby just give me one reason, Give me just one reason why Baby just give me one reason, Give me just one reason why I should stay Because I told you that I loved you And there ain't no more to say"
Sing it, Tracy.
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6/7/2002 08:03:44 PMlink
Dinner was interesting. I ate at the Maharajah restaurant. The food was good, though a little confusing. The only Indian food I have ever eaten was a bit of a samosa, and I don't care for food that is hot spicy (mild spicy is more my style). Deciding what to order was a challenge, and due to language and accent difficulties, the waitress who took my order was not able to help make any suggetions. I took a stab at it and ordered chicken tikka, and some poori. The poori came with three dipping sauces, all of which were tasty but spicy enough to burn my mouth. The tikka came with a large serving of rice and a very tasty sauce that was mildly spicy. There was also a plate of hot flat bread, though I didn't catch the name. I did enjoy the tikka, and ate till I was stuffed. Even then, I filled up a large box of leftovers to take home.
The atmosphere of the restaurant was mixed. All of the other patrons seemed to enjoy their meals, and the Indian music was pleasant. There was a shiny red on gold banner hanging on a wall that read "Season's Greetings. Ho Ho Ho." and featured a picture of Santa Claus. The one downside was that the air conditioning was turned down way too low. I wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable, as I heard those around me discussing the intense chill.
Service was not exactly stellar. The restuarant wasn;t very busy, yet it took a long tome for them to see to me. Other patrons seemed to be having difficulty getting their checks flagged down. Once I had my food, my water glass was refilled once, and then sat empty next to my other empty beveragecup the rest of the night. No one checked up on me. When I finished eating, it took quite awhile before anyone came around to notice that I was done and ready to go. For the first time in a long time, I felt compelled to only tip 10%, rather than 15%. I paid almost $20 for the meal, and I don't expect to be neglected by an idle waitstaff for that price.
Amelie, as usual, was great fun. Fourth time seeing it.
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6/7/2002 12:46:02 AMlink
Thursday, June 06, 2002
Rough day at work. As a remedy, I am going to go eat Indian food for my EFA (ethnic food adventure) and watch Amelie again while it is still in the theater.
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6/6/2002 07:26:14 PMlink
Wednesday, June 05, 2002
Now is the time when I state the obvious: People can be real dicks.
Tonight I was swimming at my health club. I swim nothing but backstroke, and an odd backstroke at that, so I tend to go at times when I know it won't be crowed (like really late at night) so that I won't have to share a lane. I've shared lanes while swimmin before, and it's awful. Not only do I tend to get swamped with water in my face from my fellow swimmer (usually doing the breast stroke) but the whole going backwards thing means I sometimes crash into people. My best bet for a good swim is to go late in the evening, get a lane to myself, and do my best to stay dead center in the lane, avoiding splashing from the adjoining lanes, and hitting the lane dividers.
There are four lanes for swimming and tonight there were people in all of the other three. All three were doing the breast stroke. About 10 minutes into my 1/2 hour swim, a middle aged man came to the end of my lane and asked if he could share it with me. I looked at the other three lanes and asked if he could possibley share with one of the people who were swimming facing forwards. He asked how long I was going to be swimming, and when I told him that I would be another 20 minutes, he repeated what I had said in a sarcastic/incredulous tone.
"Look," I said, "if you really what to share the lane, go ahead but I can't promise that I won't crash into you." He wandered off, grumbling ungraciously. After a few minutes of staring at my lane, he finally chose the lane next to me to share. That guy has done the same thing once before...asked to share the lane with the only backstroking person in the pool, and gotten really pissy when I explained why it would be better for him to use on of the other lanes. I seriously would rather give up the lane entirely than to have to share it. Argh!
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6/5/2002 11:58:52 PMlink
Tuesday, June 04, 2002
Tonight, while driving home on the beltline, I saw a flaming car wreck on the other side of the high way. I've never seen a car in such an extreme blaze. I truly hope there were no injuries.
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6/4/2002 10:33:07 PMlink
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6/3/2002 10:03:19 PMlink
Sunday, June 02, 2002
There we go. It's June 2nd. My lease is up on July 31st and I already have 8 boxes of stuff I won't be using in the next two months duct taped shut and neatly labeled. I suppose I could argue that if I won't use it in the next two months, I don't need it at all, but most of it is winter cloths and books. Not much call for wool in summer, and just because I don't read a book in the next two months doesn't mean I won't be looking for it four months from now.
Still, I am making an effort to fill up bags of things for St. Vinnie's and/or a moving sale. Must declutter, at least until I own a house. I am so sick of moving all this stuff.
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6/2/2002 04:11:08 PMlink
I don't say very much about the current copyright hubbub, mostly because I can't even pretend to have an answer. I am full of contradictions, and can see both sides of the issue.
I am an avid library user, and have worked in libraries. I took a course in Library science and attended a copyright convention. I don't watch TV, and like to zap past commercials on taped programs, but at the same time a do enjoy a cleverly done, non-insulting, entertaining advertizement. I watch and listen to public broadcasting. I flip the car radio is a commercial gets on my nerves. I believe that people who make there living producing "ideas" should get the same sort of recompence as people who produce "stuff". I studied music history for the first three years of college, and was sickened by the stories of brilliant composers dying in poverty even though their music was hugely popular, but printed and distributed worldwide without the composer seeing any of the royalties. I spent my last two years in college training to become an artist, a photographer, a creator and I would like to someday earn my living (or at least enough to support my art habit) with the images I create. I want as many people as possible to see my work. I am poor, and like getting entertainment for cheap or free. I want the artists (musical, literary, or graphic) that I admire to earn a living with what they produce and I enjoy. I am disturbed by the greedy, stuck in a rut, dictatorial attitudes of corporate entities. I think Disney is spinning out of control. I wish that Micheal Jackson didn't own the Beatles' song catalogue. I think piracy is often wrong. I think that people who wield copyright as a weapon are wrong. I think have more questions than answers.
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6/2/2002 02:03:22 PMlink
I don't move out of my current apartment for two more months, but I am already starting to gather cardboard boxes and pack up stuff that I won't be needing till then. I really hate moving, and I am trying to make this one as low impact as possible.
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6/2/2002 12:51:28 PMlink
Slowly, my inner girly-girl and my inner tomboy are becoming reaquainted. As a small child, I came equipped with frilly, poufy dresses and industrial strength corduroy overalls. I played fairy princess and pirate. I climbed trees and held tea parties for my dolls.
As I headed into grade school, the girly-girl tooks over more and more. I was a bit of an outsider already, and didn't need boyish tendencies to make me stick out further. I was into pretty clothes in pink and purple, make-up and accessories. I read YM, Seventeen and books by Judy Bloom. I permed my hair, teased my bangs and pegged my pants legs.
By my second year in high school, the tomboy was getting ready for a take over. I had been told so often that women couldn't do this or that, and that they weren't as good as men at things (with girly-girlness being used as evidence) that I shoved most of that away to prove a point. My uniform was t-shirt and jeans with an occasional flannel. I rarely wore skirts of dresses. I owned a couple pairs of servicable shoes that went with almost everything. The make-up and earrings disappeared.
This trend continued into college, when I wore combat boots, pants from the men's dept, and a man's black leather folding wallet in my back pocket. I still had the urge to be femmy at timess, but I mostly saved it for costume occasions. I felt uncomfortable and awkward if caught doing something "girly".
It wasn't until the last year or so of college, and the recent years after graduation that I have started to re-integrate the yin and yang of my personality. I can still wear the combat boots if I want, but I'm also not afraid to own and wear silly, pretty shoes. I still have the men's wear jeans, but I can also pull on the hip huggers. I alternate between the back pocket wallet and a purse (though the back pocket wallet is now sometimes a light-blue coin purse with a few necessary card and some cash). I've realized that there are so many sides to my personality that anyone judging me by my clothes is going to get a terribly inacurate picture no matter *what* I wear, that I might as well wear whatever catches my fancy.
It feels good to be happy with who I am.
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6/2/2002 12:27:49 PMlink
Saturday, June 01, 2002
Today's fun did not end with lunch. I was so stuffed, I felt sleepy and needed a nap before I could even think of doing anything else, so headed over the Memorial Union and lay down on the grass on the Terrace. I alternated between dozing and staring at the clouds. As the day wore on, the crowd came and went and came, the band set up and played.
8. Frat boys, punk kids, studious grad students, alumni, elderly couples, lesbian couples, people on bikes, people on boats...basically a vast array of the human spectrum all getting along together in the afternoon sunlight.
9. Lots of beer, and a table full of students smoking a hooka.
10. Ducks.
When the band took a set break and my stomach had settled from my earlier feast, I decided to treat myself to a Babcock Hall ice cream cone: orange custard chocolate chip. Yum. I was heading back outside to the terrace, cone in hand and licking happily, when the entire scoop launched itself onto the pavement of the Terrace. I was staring at my fallen scoop in display when I young man I had never ever seen before walked up to me and said, "You should get them to give you another."
I replied that I doubted they gave out replacement cones for silly mishaps, but he countered, "Come on. If they don't give you one, I'll buy you a new one." I followed him back inside, rather dazedly, I guess.
He walked up to the ice cream counter and told the girl, "I don't know this girl, but the entire scoop fell off her cone " I held up my empty cone as evidence, "so I would like you to give her a new one." The girl chuckled and scooped another cone, while the guy vanished. I didn't see him again for the rest of the rest, the Ice Cream Samaritan, but I did enjoy the cone....very carefully.
I stayed on the Terrace lawn until the bugs got thick and all the families with small children who had surrounded me went home. Then I, too, made my way back home, blissed out on my day.
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6/1/2002 11:09:29 PMlink
Continued the ethnic food adventure this afternoon. Today I stopped in to the Mediterranean Café, which along with many of the other stps on my list, was voted Madison's favorite. Tasty falafel, nummy hummus, a pile of pitas, a stack of rice and a little salad with feta. I ate until I could eat no more. Paid less than $6. The atmosphere was charming and very friendly. I will definately be back.
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6/1/2002 10:22:19 PMlink
I should probably mention that despite the open bar and the snagged extra bottle of bubbly, no one seemed to have gotten into the "too much" zone.
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6/1/2002 10:16:49 PMlink
My friend (Katie) Doyle got married yesterday. Technically, she is my sister's friend, but I've sort of been adopted over the years. The bride was beautiful, as was the maid of honor (Gretchen). The ceremony was pleasant and brief. They weather was sunny and warm. We threw rose petals at the smiling couple (which resulted in the bride fishing a number of petals out of her cleavage) and watched the brides little nephew run around picking up petals and throwing them in the air over and over, giggling.
The reception was fun. The food was good, the decorations pretty with a vaguley prom-like feel (helium balloons everywhere). I sat at a table full of people my age, all friend of the bride and my sister, and together we planned mild mischief. In Wisconsin, there is a tradition at wedding receptions during which the guest clink their glasses with silverware until the bride and groom kiss. It is sort of a dinner-table chivaree. Many people, however, find this irritating. It was requested that if we wanted the bride and groom to kiss, an entire table would have to stand and sing a song containing the word "love". Our table spent much of the dinner discussing what song to sing (once we were all sufficiently tipsy to do the task). The leading choices were "I Want You to Want Me" and that old play ground classic, "Katie and Jamie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G...." It never happened though....every time we were ready to sing, the bride and the groom were either not together, or out of the room. Probably for the best, that.
We did get a bit of work done on the getting sufficiently tipsy. Besides an open bar for beer and wine, there was a champagne toast. One bottle was put at each table, and the guests poured their own glasses. After the toast, we started to notice that some bottle were sitting on abandoned tables, opened but still full. We couldn't let it go to waste, so we started rounding them up. I think we ended up with six bottles total. *Hic*
There was a DJ, there was dancing. The garter was thrown. The bouquet was thrown....I CAUGHT THE BOUQUET. It meant I had to dance with the big sweaty guy who caught the garter, but never-the-less, I caught the bouquet. There was hoky-pokying, chicken dancing, a conga line, and even "Sandstorm" to add a slightly ravey feel at the end of the night. (Did I mention that I caught the bouquet?)
A post-reception run to Perkins with a small group which included both my sibs completed the night. I think we looked like refugees from some strange Prom, but at Perkins at midnight, nothing is out of the ordinary. We were all tired as we ate our sandwiches and hash browns, but very happy.
Twas a good night indeed.
(And I caught the bouquet.)
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6/1/2002 02:12:48 PMlink
This is the stuff that hangs out in the basement.
Copyright for all images and text belongs to Katherine Olson, except whether otherwise noted.
(If I've cited something of yours and somehow missed the credit and/or link, let me know and I'll fix it.)
Irving Place
