Good Question

A group of friends stands around, exchanging phone numbers by calling each other and saving the call history:

M, typing: "Fabio, what's your last name?"

F: "I'm pretty sure I'm the only Fabio you know. Why do you need my last name?"

M: "..."

Breaking News!

The blue glove has mysteriously vanished, and the empty can of Hormel chili has been joined under the bus stop by an empty can of Vienna Sausages. The far-from-train-tracks hobo strikes again!

Bike Thoughts

There's some stuff, some debris, some once-but-no-longer drifting garbage on the streets that I take to and from school every day. There is a small chunk of what looks like a dipstick that I ride over daily, which is fortunately flat and doesn't puncture my tire or otherwise impede my riding. There is a blue glove, somewhere between the surgical and dishwashing categories. There is an empty can of Hormel chili, which makes me wonder why a hobo was in that bus stop so far away from the railroad tracks. This stuff, this debris, has been on the street for at least two months, in the exact same places in the bike lane and under the bus stop bench, and I begin to wonder if that street is some kind of dead end in the garbage tide, where stuff can go to but not get out of.



Along this same route there was a dead dog for a day. He didn't linger long- maybe his owners came and buried him, or animal control scraped him off the road, or perhaps there was a very content vulture in the neighborhood, I don't know. While his corpse was quickly gotten rid of in one way or another, his stink of death remained for a good two weeks.



It occurs to me that the students at my university must not understand that there are rules to the intermingling of bikes and pedestrians. The rules basically are to be aware of your surroundings and not act like a jerk, but perhaps I can flesh out my thoughts a little:

1. Know where you are. If the sidewalk is painted to look like a little street with yellow lines down the middle, you are in the bike lane. Also know when you are. If it is between ten till and the hour, there are so very many people out and about, all trying to get from one place to another.

2. For pedestrians: Do not walk down the middle of the bike lane. This is not a place where you belong, and you will eventually get yelled at or run down by a cyclist who either didn't expect you to be there or has had people walk in front of them all day long and finally lost it.

2a. For pedestrians: When crossing the bike lane, as you must in order to get from point a to point b, do not change your pace. Do not hesitate at the border of the lane and dart at a time that seems good to you. The bikes know you are there and want to cross, and can easily avoid you if you walk steadily across without weaving or speeding up. The cyclist is likely counting on you to continue in your path (see Newton's Laws), so when you walk partway into the bike lane and suddenly stop, their plans of riding behind you are thwarted because now "behind you" is where you are still standing. Stopping in a pathway generally makes everyone around you, cyclists and pedestrians alike, annoyed at you.

3. For bikes: Do not ride in areas that are marked with big crossed-out bicycles on them. These signs mean you should walk your bike in this congested or otherwise-unapproved for vehicles area. It might not make sense, but it is much safer when everyone knows that everyone else is more or less going the same speed. Especially when you go through dark underpasses.

Scrabble Pride

Ahem. Tonight? I won Scrabble. With some great words, including:

Emote

Turban

Borzoi


If I were prone to using superlatives to describe myself, I might be tempted to say I'm the best.

This and That

Again with the stories from walking around campus!

Walking down the mall, I am accosted by a sorority girl and frat guy, holding a big empty water cooler jug partially filled with change.

Sorority Girl, perkily: "Do you have some spare change to support breast cancer?"

Frat Guy, as I dig through my pockets: "Actually, we suggest that you kick the s*** out of breast cancer, rather than support it."

Who knew those guys could make intelligent witticisms?

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

It's been a good weekend, with a hootenanney last night (accompanied by steak!), the regular Saturday cleaning today (accompanied by chicken curry!), and friends coming over tomorrow morning for breakfast made by our amazing and talented friend (stuffed french toast! crepes!). Apparently the thing that boosts an activity up the scale from "fun" to "amazing" is food.

Tuesday I make my debut performance on the guitar, playing Au Clair de la Lune for my professor and classmates. Get my autograph now, before I become famous!

Hallucinization

Today while sitting in the front pew in church, trying desperately to pay attention, I frequently wondered why instead of looking up at the speaker I was slouched over to one side, drooling on myself. Why instead of seeing the familiar wooden pulpit with a be-shirted and -tied man behind it, I saw an endless sea of hominy.

I should start getting to bed earlier on Saturdays.

Let Me Be Brief

I'm pretty disappointed that I haven't had my camera with me, or even batteries in my camera, for the past month or so. I've seen so many stunning visuals that I would love to share with the world, but will never be able to. Although I'm glad you can't see the bread of ugliness I just made for a bake sale on campus, because I'm kind of disappointed in that, too.

Day of Folly: My Own and Others'

First thing this morning I am sent to pick up a form from a woman in another office on campus. Not only do I unintentionally make up a new name for this woman, but when I return to my office I find that I've gotten the wrong form.

In a class where the rows of desks are far too close together, I accidentally fall all over this nice music theory major I'm trying to scootch past. At least it ends in an interesting conversation, rather than angry words.

Riding across campus on the way towards the library, I see this girl. She is wearing a dress that would best be described as a Slutty Grandma/ Circus Tent amalgam. It is a thing of horror, but I cannot look away.

Blargh, the Cold

My nose alternately pours snot like a faucet and feels sealed up with bricks and mortar. I can feel my pulse in my forehead. My soft palette is all sore. I can only cough weak little wussy coughs because I haven't the energy for big, rollicking coughs. I have a steadily-growing pile o'kleenex next to the couch and my sbeech souds subthig like dis.

When my roommates ask me how I'm feeling, what am I supposed to say?

"Gee, I feel great, other than being sick!"

"Man, I sure feel like crap, thanks for asking"

"unnngh.... *little coughs and a whimper* "



On the plus side, I got to stay home from work and most classes today and play Paper Mario while lying on the couch. Surely that makes up for not being able to breathe through my nose for more than 48 hours now?

Hostessing

We have some friends of a friend staying with us for a few nights, and they are overly apprectiative to the point that I can't tell if they are mocking us or they live very deprived lives.

"Wow, your apartment is so big and open!"

"You guys are soooooooooo nice letting us stay with you!"

"Oh my gosh you UNFOLDED. YOUR. FUTON. for us?!"

"Holy smokes there are TOWELS?!!"


While it was admittedly harder than it should have been to rustle up three extra towels for them, really the rest of the stuff didn't need to be commented on. Am I this exuberantly grateful when I'm the houseguest?

Dear Nose and Eyes:

I'd appreciate it if I could spend an entire day, snot-free, itch-free. It's really off-putting to have the girl at the front desk continuously rubbing her eyes with her wrists like a dog or a two-month-old, and I could really use the extra money I'm spending on toilet paper for something else, something like food or rent. The allergies, they are killing me. I'm about ready to do something drastic, like actually buying pills or even looking into acupuncture like my friend suggested a year ago. Please, no more allergies! Riding my bike to school is a chore, reading anything is miserable, even dance parties have to be interrupted in order to blow my nose. This has to stop.

Hugs and Kisses,

Violasaint

Thoughts on Not Going to Work

It's amazing how wonderful a day off work can be. It's so much more productive and good-feeling than a Saturday, and so much more relaxing than a holiday, and so much more appreciated than any other day.

Today I leisurely cleaned my room, did laundry, cleaned the chinchilla cage, sold old clothes and old movies and old books, bought some new-old pants, bought some groceries, obtained a new bike, ate a delicious dinner with friends, and watched a Bollywood movie. So many things I did!

The only issue now is going back to work tomorrow.

A Shockingly Serious Post

A girl at my university killed herself last week. I read it in the campus newspaper, that she hung herself in her dorm, just after the first week of classes.

I'm not sure how to react to this news. My first reaction is to say, "so? I don't know her, I don't live in her dorm, this doesn't affect me, so what's to react to?" Then I feel a little guilty because no man is an island and all that, and because sheesh, have I no sympathy at all? This guilt is fleeting, though, and leaves me in search of something else to think about this situation.

Overall, I'm just confused when I hear stories like this. What's to die for? You're a college student, you've got friends and classes to go to and maybe your life isn't perfect, but whose life is? I can kind of understand a person wanting to end it all because they've gone bankrupt and want their wife and five children to have the life insurance money or something like that. But what is there for a young, vital person to kill themself for?

I know, I've read Suicide and know all about anomie and the feeling of disconnectedness that occurs around the late teens and early twenties. But hey, I've been in a state of anomie before, and all it did for me was make me feel like my head was a little floaty and I was more distractable by pretty colors and shiny objects for a while. If anything it made me stick to my schedule more because I didn't really have the creativity or willpower to do anything I hadn't done before. But maybe different people are affected differently? I'm not sure. I sure am sorry for that girl, though. She had so much to look forward to, so much left to do with her life, and now she can't. I'll see if I can do anything extraordinary for her today, since she can't. This weekend I will celebrate my life.

Kids These Days

I don't know what my problem is, but recently I've been talking less and less like a normal human being, and more and more like a crotchety old woman who is indignant at the whole world.

This week marked the beginning of the semester, and as such we had numerous concourses of freshmen in and out of the doors of our office, trying to see advisors RIGHT THIS SECOND because their little scheduling problems are the most urgent issues facing the world of today. Part of my annoyance is due to the complete lack of respect they show for everyone they encounter, and another part is due to the fact that none of their stories are unique. I've listened to the same story over and over today, maybe a hundred and fifty times today. I'm going to listen to it again a hundred and fifty times tomorrow, and then again the day after another hundred times. Perhaps by Friday the sob story of not having the exact classes I want will lessen to about fifty, but that may be wishful thinking.

I wonder if this is how nurses feel at the end of the day, or lifeguards. Sheesh, here I have to go save another life, because another person did the exact same stupid thing that I've been telling people not to do all day long. And then after saving countless lives with little to no thanks (because it's your *job* to do that), you just can't get to one in time because you're busy saving somebody else, and then the dying one gets all mad at you, like come on, man, where were you? Why weren't you there to coddle me and save me when I did something stupid?

Or they yell. I get that a lot these days, too.

Ah, Wedded Bliss

The wedding was a happy occaision, the bringing together of two very silly families. It was very entertaining, knowing both families, to see them all meet for the first time, and guess what was going through their heads about their new in-laws.

While my hair did not beautify itself during the night, I was able to wrangle it into shampoo-commercial hair, all smooth and wavy and kind of elegant looking, if I do say so myself. I ended up making the 1.5 hour drive to the wedding site with the groom and his groomsmen, who were his old buddies from elementary school days (???). They've grown in slightly different directions during the past few years, though, which was good for me. While the groom is, as the bride puts it, a "loveable dork," the groomsmen are pretty cool and hilariously funny. We spent most of the time joking and laughing and having as grand a time as you can have in tuxes and a bridesmaid dress in 105 degree weather. I also helped them decorate the getaway car (are bridesmaids allowed to do that?), adding serifs where necessary to make their manly handwriting more readable. Little hearts and foofy borders around the "Just Married" were also left up to me. The bride and groom drove merrily away, probably glad to be rid of their micromanaging mothers (both of them! such bad luck) for the week.


About two hours after that reception ended, the one for my roommate began on the other side of town. That one was an absolute joy, as I was only a guest, and could come and go (and eat delicious wedding food) as I wished. Hers was a little more fancy and formal, which was appreciated after the chaos of all the family members earlier in the day. The happy couple looked very sharp, and more happy and relaxed than I've seen either of them for several months now. There apparently was a bouquet toss, but I had snuck out early, ready for some pajama time at home.

Ahoy

Sigh, two weddings this weekend, and important as they are I almost wish I could ditch them and sit by the pool for two days instead.

What was my friend thinking, asking me to be a bridesmaid? I don't have a bridesmaid body, and I absolutely do not have bridesmaid hair. Being the smart person I am, I decided to begin experimenting with hairstyles an entire 12 hours before I'm expected to be ready at arms. Hopefully some miracle will occur in the night and I will awaken perfectly coiffed in the morning.

Meanwhile our kitchen is slowly filling to the brim with little tubes wrapped in ribbon, the favors for my roommate's wedding, which will eventually (by tomorrow evening) be filled with... almonds? m&m's? I'm not really sure how that's all going to work out, but I did tie fifty little bows onto fifty little lids this afternoon. Fifty painstaking bows out of wire ribbon.

I'm very much looking forward to the beginning of the school semester.

Birthday Guide, 2007

Livers the Newsboy

Maybe a blender?

ah yes, a Vacuum

some good roommates (hah! I've already arranged to have some delivered starting in August!)

Some more of that perfume you bought me once, sis? Or maybe a new fragrance, like that rose one? Or almond? But I really do like the vanilla one. It's just getting low

Gather Ye Rosebuds

This summer has been a rather exciting and exhausting mix of bridal showers, weddings, pool parties, receptions, impromptu dance parties, bridesmaid dresses, packing boxes and a textbook apparently written for ten year olds. Throw in my job and trying to wash dishes once in a while and maybe feed the chinchillas every week or so, and I'm having a hard time flossing nightly. Also remembering my name.

Fortunately for me, work has recently turned into a part time affair, and my summer class is one day from being over. With my newfound free time, I've found that there is a lot more to do at home than I once thought. I've been doing some packing here and there to make things easier in a couple of weeks when I move, so now I cannot watch movies or read books because the media was the first to be boxed up.

All of this stress and work leads to a cranky me, which is why I am so looking forward to my five-day weekend coming up; I intend to drive far away, set up a tent, and do some hiking and relaxing in one of the most beautiful parts of this country. Circumstances beyond my control threaten that I may not get this holiday that I've been looking forward to and needing so much. Hopefully that possibility does not come to pass, because if it does I may just go insane.

#59: Go Places

I think I've reminisced once or twice before about my youth. This time it will be different!

My Backyard: a descriptive essay by ViolaSaint

From age since-I-can-remember to age almost nine, we lived in a blue and red house in Southern California. The backyard of that house was amazing, with a garden, a swingset with the steepest slide imaginable, and a pepper tree. Oh, also the grounding wires for the power line ended up in our yard. And a big pile of peppers and leaves and other random tree litter. When it rained, the porch would flood, and when it was dry enough my sister and I would spend the afternoon making mudmen (think tiny snowmen without the snow) and setting them on the brick wall to dry. My mother has multiple photos of my sister pushing me on the swing in the swingset, I guess that was either a favorite pastime or she just liked the way pictures like that looked. The January (?) before we moved, there was an earthquake that gave both my sister and I post-traumatic stress issues, and I remember during the weeks afterward we cleaned the house. One of my duties was sorting the stuff from the game closet, and I recall sitting outside in the backyard, sorting monopoly money while watching the dust billow around the mountains during an aftershock.

From age nine-ish to age, uh, 20, my backyard had a pool. A pool with a waterfall and a rock in the middle where we stood and pretended to be the Karate Kid. For a certain number of years the backyard was where our dog Jack lived, and we had to spend every Saturday walking around the side yard, picking up his droppings and being disgusted. We tried to do a garden in this backyard, but were largely unsuccessful. We grew a few things, but it proved impossible to keep the dog and the rabbits and the quail out of stuff, so most plants never got a chance to live before they were destroyed. For much of my youth in this house, the backyard was less a place to play than it was a portal to the wash behind our house. Stand on the waterfall and climb over the fence and you were into a wild, parentless territory where you could explore and make forts and hope they weren't discovered and messed up by the neighborhood boys. We found an old discarded christmas tree down there once, and set it up with flowers and other plants as decoration.

The year I was twenty, my backyard wasn't a backyard. Living in the dorms, when I looked out my bedroom window I saw a driveway where the snow accumulated, and beyond that, the gym. During the winter I would stare across at the people running on the track, and during the spring I watched the teenage boys practicing their mad skateboard skillz on the walkway beneath. Don't worry- I didn't spend all my time staring out the window. I spent my fair share of time actually in the gym (about an hour every weekday) as well as in class and walking around the lake that was on the other side of the dorms.

My current backyard was so full of promise when we moved in a year ago, and has been horribly underused. It is very large, with a clothesline, a tree and these big sheets of rusty corrugated metal put up like a strange privacy screen. There's a little patch of brick that has a fun L-shaped bench around it, and the yard would be so perfect for backyard camping and barbeques and beach parties without the beach. However, in the Fall this nasty grass grew in it, grew a foot tall, two feet tall, three feet tall! And then in the winter this three-foot-tall grass died and we've had three foot tall hay in our yard since then. We could have and should have ripped it out or mowed it or something so we could use the yard, but we didn't. Our landlord was apprised of the situation finally, and has hired somebody to do something about it, but this somebody came about a month ago and chopped it all down and raked it into piles and decided that it'd be too hard to take the piles away, so I guess his job is done. No progress has been made back there in the past three weeks, except for this one evening when a friend and I felt like doing somthing useful and bagged up three of the piles. We're moving again in a few weeks, and our window of opportunity with this yard has all but closed. Unless the magic yard fairy comes and blinks away the hay tonight, there is very little chance of our ever having that barbeque of our dreams.

On Campus Today

A woman walks toward the student union with two girls, maybe six years old each:

Woman: "Do you know where we are?"

Girl 1: "We're at COLLEGE!"

Girl 2: "No, we're at cartilage!"

Girl 1, giggling: "We're going to cartilage!"

Woman: "No, we're at college. Do you know what cartilage is?"

Girl 2: "It's it's it's it's..."

Woman: "It's kind of like bones, only softer. It's in your ears."

Girl 1: "Ooh, the squishy stuff? I have cartilage in my ears!"

Girl 2: "You have cartilage in your ears. And you have cartilage in your nose. You know where else you have it? You have cartilage in your BOOB!"




Wrong squishy stuff, kid.