Well, thanks to a spyware virus, the lengthy, deliberate draft I just typed has been lost. You'll now get the short version, which I'm sure is something people like Ray will appreciate. Evidently I am too long winded.
I have a bit of money sitting around for one of the first times in my life. I do not want to simply stuff it away into a bank account and "save" for later in my life. My first idea was a Spring Break, but the whole screaming, mtv cameras, condoms on the beach thing seems so overdone and gutless to me. I'm not sure, it just isn't my scene despite my love for parties and bars.
My next thought was to take a trip to visit my friends from London. Since the end of the study abroad program we've had a few reunions and I enjoyed going to each of them. The friends I made on the trip are more important to me than some of the friends I have had for years. However it seems that all of the girls from the trip have already organized themselves a trip to Florida. I don't take it personally that I was not invited (though perhaps I should) because it seems like only the girls are involved. This confuses me on one hand because I never considered our group of friends to be organized by basis of sex, but on the other hand I understand that it's just an extended "girls night out" sort of thing.
(Or, I have simply missed hints that no one likes me. I have been oblivious before.)
So the point is-- where are we going for vacation?
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Well...
Two updates within ten minutes of one another...
The thing is, I slept all night sober, woke up early, and don't have much to do. So here's a poem for you.
She comes home drunk
warm buzz of smiles and brown hair
She smells like snow and shivering
Creak of my leather chair
She’s drunk and kisses so hard
Our teeth click together like
High schoolers with no sense
Laughs out beyond my door
Quiet blushed laughs- the lock clicks
Bottles ring and clatter glassy
Cans crushing- her voice muffled
No one beyond the door
Can hear her breathe whispers
Do you think?
Who could think with all these quiet laughs?
My shirt off and a tattoo
Black and old like a woodcutting
St. Michael across shaking ribs
Wings moving with each shared breath
And then the beautiful cleanse
Of the apocalypse, the end
The end of days and wonder
Atoms crushed and sent to the dust
Of stars as I taste her shoulder
The thing is, I slept all night sober, woke up early, and don't have much to do. So here's a poem for you.
She comes home drunk
warm buzz of smiles and brown hair
She smells like snow and shivering
Creak of my leather chair
She’s drunk and kisses so hard
Our teeth click together like
High schoolers with no sense
Laughs out beyond my door
Quiet blushed laughs- the lock clicks
Bottles ring and clatter glassy
Cans crushing- her voice muffled
No one beyond the door
Can hear her breathe whispers
Do you think?
Who could think with all these quiet laughs?
My shirt off and a tattoo
Black and old like a woodcutting
St. Michael across shaking ribs
Wings moving with each shared breath
And then the beautiful cleanse
Of the apocalypse, the end
The end of days and wonder
Atoms crushed and sent to the dust
Of stars as I taste her shoulder
In Regards to Failure...
So I went snowboarding with Ed, Ray, Brooks, and their friend Chris (who has some sick tattoos). The trip has been referenced by both Ray and Ed in their respective blogs, so I won't give more than a brief synopsis- We went snowboarding, it was my first time, I fell down a lot, got frustrated, and went down the mountain on my feet instead of my board. We then went and got some good dinner at a restaurant which is now extinct. If I was feeling poetic I would discuss that portion of the trip further with references to permanence of memory and mortality...but I'm not feeling that way.
So: 1) I don't feel that I was being a "bitch" for going down the mountain after my first run (essentially I gave up).
2)I also don't feel that I wasted my money.
1) The boots and board were both phenomenally heavy and sluggish. Being a smaller framed person I was having trouble moving them around, and getting back up after many many falls was very tiring. By the time we had started my second run, I was physically exhausted, which only added to my frustration.
I get very easily frustrated when I do not succeed at something. That is not to say I am terribly immature, or a sore loser, it's simply a part of my personality that I have always had. I am not naive enough to have thought "I am going to be the best snowboarder in the world on my very first try!" On the contrary: I was, as a whole, doing better than I actually expected to. However, falling down so often, and having such a hard time muscling the fucking board around was making me very irritated.
What made that even worse was having so many people around-- Were I failing on my own, or in a class of all beginners, I would have been able to take the spills much easier. Ray is a very good, very patient teacher so I did not feel pressure from him. However, I knew that I was slowing him down and taking away some of the fun of his first trip to the mountain this year. That made it worse (in my own head) and ultimately, I had gotten what I needed to out of the experience. Which leads to number 2...
2) Ray said he would have gotten more runs, if only because he had paid 50 dollars. I guess I don't view money the same as most people.
In my frustrated state, I was angry enough to quit. Not because I did not think I could not improve, or finally get the hang of it, but simply because I was not in the state of mind to learn or to have fun. To me, stopping was the only option- so I did stop.
However, looking back on it I had fun. That is, in my own mind, the experience was worthwhile and I do not look back on it in the same state of mind I had back then, on the mountain. As far as I'm concerned, I tried something new with my friends, saw some nice scenery, and had a satisfyingly battered body afterwards. That was worth the price to me.
So: 1) I don't feel that I was being a "bitch" for going down the mountain after my first run (essentially I gave up).
2)I also don't feel that I wasted my money.
1) The boots and board were both phenomenally heavy and sluggish. Being a smaller framed person I was having trouble moving them around, and getting back up after many many falls was very tiring. By the time we had started my second run, I was physically exhausted, which only added to my frustration.
I get very easily frustrated when I do not succeed at something. That is not to say I am terribly immature, or a sore loser, it's simply a part of my personality that I have always had. I am not naive enough to have thought "I am going to be the best snowboarder in the world on my very first try!" On the contrary: I was, as a whole, doing better than I actually expected to. However, falling down so often, and having such a hard time muscling the fucking board around was making me very irritated.
What made that even worse was having so many people around-- Were I failing on my own, or in a class of all beginners, I would have been able to take the spills much easier. Ray is a very good, very patient teacher so I did not feel pressure from him. However, I knew that I was slowing him down and taking away some of the fun of his first trip to the mountain this year. That made it worse (in my own head) and ultimately, I had gotten what I needed to out of the experience. Which leads to number 2...
2) Ray said he would have gotten more runs, if only because he had paid 50 dollars. I guess I don't view money the same as most people.
In my frustrated state, I was angry enough to quit. Not because I did not think I could not improve, or finally get the hang of it, but simply because I was not in the state of mind to learn or to have fun. To me, stopping was the only option- so I did stop.
However, looking back on it I had fun. That is, in my own mind, the experience was worthwhile and I do not look back on it in the same state of mind I had back then, on the mountain. As far as I'm concerned, I tried something new with my friends, saw some nice scenery, and had a satisfyingly battered body afterwards. That was worth the price to me.
Friday, January 5, 2007
Short Little Anecdotes
Why do people in movies always practice what they’re about to say in front of a mirror? Wedding toasts, confrontations, the all important I love you even though we’re friends speech: has anyone in real life actually stood in front of a mirror and practiced this shit? I don’t think so. Hollywood bullshit.
Today in the Tops parking lot some woman stopped her car and waved me on, even though she clearly had the right of way. So I just sort of sat there with my foot on the brake. She didn’t move, so I started to inch forward. Just as I was about to let off and go for it, she started moving again too. So we both slammed the brake. Then she waved me on yet again. My question is…who is she to be making these decisions? Is she the fuckin Parking Princess? I don’t like the “Go Ahead” wave, it’s arrogant.
Another thing I hate is when someone is walking to the exact same place you are, either a few steps behind or ahead. First, it’s just awkward because you both know it’s going to be a long walk together. Second, someone ends up opening and holding all the doors. Ever get some over polite cocksucker behind you who just won’t stop saying Thank You? Here’s the rule: Thank me for the first one or two doors. After that, stop it. I’ll purposefully walk in the exact opposite direction of my destination to lose these people.
When deaf people dream, is everyone in the dream using sign language? Are there some people in there dream who just sit there shouting, thinking speaking louder will help? Or is there some odd telepathy where everything is just known? I’m interested.
Speaking of handicaps, here’s some more Hollywood bullshit: Every time a blind person meets a love interest, he or she runs their fingers over the person’s face. Without a doubt, they always say in a very romantic tone, “Oh, you’re beautiful!” They’re full of shit. They have no fucking clue. For Christ’s sake, they can’t see.
Lately my dreams have been cheating. For instance, if in my dream I have a gun or a knife, and I use it on another person, they’re always getting back up. Or the gun doesn’t really shoot bullets, it sort of just clicks. And I have to stop in the middle of the dream and say, Look, look, alright. We both know this is a gun, sweetheart, so quit fucking around and at least pretend to be dead, for the sake of narrative. When you have to reason with your dreams and persuade them into working, it takes the fun away.
I read an article the other day about technological innovations to improve the human body. The most impressive was muscles made out of shape memory alloys-- that is, the metal is highly spring-like and can flex and bend to new shapes, while still being able to return to its original form. Obviously this is a large steps towards replacing lost limbs completely, and even creating realistic androids. But speaking of androids, I believe we already have quite a few. You can speak to them, touch them, call them by a human name, you can even date them. Personal experience.
The other night I was at the bar with Dan and Bobby. We’ve been friends since probably kindergarten. Another kid we went to school with, Luke, walked in and put one arm around Bobby, the other around me, to see what was going on. Sort of an affectionate way to say Hello, I thought.So I said “Jesus Bobby, tell your Gay Uncle to keep his hands off of me.”The joke goes directly over Luke’s head, and with both eyebrows raised he turns to Bobby and asks, “Oh my god, your Uncle’s fucking gay?” I’ve been laughing about that one for days.
Once I went to Bobby’s grandfather’s house with him to get something. We were the only ones in the house but his Grandfather was going to be home shortly. I went into the bathroom and settled down for a nice relaxing read, and to see if I couldn’t do something productive in the meantime. Well, I was too productive, and when it came time to flush the toilet, the water wasn’t going down--in fact it was coming back up. In a panic I called Bobby in, thinking maybe he knew some toilet secret I wasn’t aware of at this point in my life. So, I can honestly say, “friendship” isn’t quite tangible until the both of you are chasing your turds around the floor of a rich person’s bathroom like escaped goldfish.
Dunkin Donuts has information posted on their doors reminding customers that their products were made with the same equipment that MAY have touched the ever deadly peanut. They situated this information so that you only see it on the way out. Good for them.
My sister auditioned for Snow White at Disney World after her internship as a Game Show host was up, and they offered her the job. She moved to Oregon with her boyfriend instead. Imagine how much fun I could be having on Pirates of the Caribbean right this second…
You know it’s cold when your eyeballs are freezing and your nuts can be found up in your stomach.
I was sitting in traffic on Broadway, Saratoga, driving into work one morning. A U-Haul van cut me off as I neared an intersection in the bumper to bumper traffic. Immediately the van was put into reverse, and started coming back towards me. Knowing I was stuck there, I simply beeped the horn and waited. I watched the van smash my hood and absolutely crush the fucking front of my beloved ‘98 Escort. The van’s door open and out comes the smallest, angriest Long Island Jewish-Princess I ever seen. And she screams…“Didn’t you SEE me backing up?” I went and parked my totaled car next to a Porsche 911.
Today in the Tops parking lot some woman stopped her car and waved me on, even though she clearly had the right of way. So I just sort of sat there with my foot on the brake. She didn’t move, so I started to inch forward. Just as I was about to let off and go for it, she started moving again too. So we both slammed the brake. Then she waved me on yet again. My question is…who is she to be making these decisions? Is she the fuckin Parking Princess? I don’t like the “Go Ahead” wave, it’s arrogant.
Another thing I hate is when someone is walking to the exact same place you are, either a few steps behind or ahead. First, it’s just awkward because you both know it’s going to be a long walk together. Second, someone ends up opening and holding all the doors. Ever get some over polite cocksucker behind you who just won’t stop saying Thank You? Here’s the rule: Thank me for the first one or two doors. After that, stop it. I’ll purposefully walk in the exact opposite direction of my destination to lose these people.
When deaf people dream, is everyone in the dream using sign language? Are there some people in there dream who just sit there shouting, thinking speaking louder will help? Or is there some odd telepathy where everything is just known? I’m interested.
Speaking of handicaps, here’s some more Hollywood bullshit: Every time a blind person meets a love interest, he or she runs their fingers over the person’s face. Without a doubt, they always say in a very romantic tone, “Oh, you’re beautiful!” They’re full of shit. They have no fucking clue. For Christ’s sake, they can’t see.
Lately my dreams have been cheating. For instance, if in my dream I have a gun or a knife, and I use it on another person, they’re always getting back up. Or the gun doesn’t really shoot bullets, it sort of just clicks. And I have to stop in the middle of the dream and say, Look, look, alright. We both know this is a gun, sweetheart, so quit fucking around and at least pretend to be dead, for the sake of narrative. When you have to reason with your dreams and persuade them into working, it takes the fun away.
I read an article the other day about technological innovations to improve the human body. The most impressive was muscles made out of shape memory alloys-- that is, the metal is highly spring-like and can flex and bend to new shapes, while still being able to return to its original form. Obviously this is a large steps towards replacing lost limbs completely, and even creating realistic androids. But speaking of androids, I believe we already have quite a few. You can speak to them, touch them, call them by a human name, you can even date them. Personal experience.
The other night I was at the bar with Dan and Bobby. We’ve been friends since probably kindergarten. Another kid we went to school with, Luke, walked in and put one arm around Bobby, the other around me, to see what was going on. Sort of an affectionate way to say Hello, I thought.So I said “Jesus Bobby, tell your Gay Uncle to keep his hands off of me.”The joke goes directly over Luke’s head, and with both eyebrows raised he turns to Bobby and asks, “Oh my god, your Uncle’s fucking gay?” I’ve been laughing about that one for days.
Once I went to Bobby’s grandfather’s house with him to get something. We were the only ones in the house but his Grandfather was going to be home shortly. I went into the bathroom and settled down for a nice relaxing read, and to see if I couldn’t do something productive in the meantime. Well, I was too productive, and when it came time to flush the toilet, the water wasn’t going down--in fact it was coming back up. In a panic I called Bobby in, thinking maybe he knew some toilet secret I wasn’t aware of at this point in my life. So, I can honestly say, “friendship” isn’t quite tangible until the both of you are chasing your turds around the floor of a rich person’s bathroom like escaped goldfish.
Dunkin Donuts has information posted on their doors reminding customers that their products were made with the same equipment that MAY have touched the ever deadly peanut. They situated this information so that you only see it on the way out. Good for them.
My sister auditioned for Snow White at Disney World after her internship as a Game Show host was up, and they offered her the job. She moved to Oregon with her boyfriend instead. Imagine how much fun I could be having on Pirates of the Caribbean right this second…
You know it’s cold when your eyeballs are freezing and your nuts can be found up in your stomach.
I was sitting in traffic on Broadway, Saratoga, driving into work one morning. A U-Haul van cut me off as I neared an intersection in the bumper to bumper traffic. Immediately the van was put into reverse, and started coming back towards me. Knowing I was stuck there, I simply beeped the horn and waited. I watched the van smash my hood and absolutely crush the fucking front of my beloved ‘98 Escort. The van’s door open and out comes the smallest, angriest Long Island Jewish-Princess I ever seen. And she screams…“Didn’t you SEE me backing up?” I went and parked my totaled car next to a Porsche 911.
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