Schwing

I actually cleaned yesterday. Windexed the table, swept and everything. No mopping, though. That is going too far.

You know how supposedly kids' lives really have been saved because the candy they were choking on was a Lifesaver, and they could breathe through the hole? I always feel snuggly safe eating a Lifesaver. Not so with a Werthers. I've almost choked on Werthers before. Now don't get me wrong--they're yummy, but I am not so sure I am fully qualified to eat them unsupervised.

Living alone = more chance of choking on my food and dying.

Actually (and hopefully I'm not the only one who has done this) I've thought about what I would do if I started to choke while alone in my apartment. I'm thinking throw myself over the edge of the couch as the first option. Then dial 911 and make gasping noises until they trace the call and come find me. Well, except that I only have a cell phone and they can't trace those as accurately--only to like a 4-block radius or something. But hey, somebody told me the other day that they're improving this, so maybe they'd find me after all and I wouldn't die.

Anyway. I really should learn CPR and all that lifesaving stuff. Wouldn't want to be in a situation of, "DAGNABBIT! WHY didn't I take that class!?" as someone is in cardiac arrest in front of me.

I know a guy who saved someone's life once. Gave this guy the Heimlich. Even if he never does anything else with the rest of his life, he can say he did that. Must be nice to have the pressure taken off.

Well, unless the person whose life he saved turned out to be a very bad person, like (and I'll try not to get banned by more company websites) the one who caused the non-living of all those Europeans 50 years ago. (Actually, I'm sure there's more than one, come to think of it, but you know the one I mean.)

I saw a Twilight Zone special or some sort of TV movie special about this young woman who was sent back in time to work as a servant in the previously-mentioned bad guy's house, way back when scary man was a wee little baby. Her mission was to stop him from ever growing up to do all those bad things. In one scene, the parents leave secret-future-servant-lady alone with the baby. We see her looking down at him sleeping in his crib, the moment of action, no reason not to follow through on her mission and knowing with certainty the horrible things that will happen if she lets him live, yet unable to justify hurting this infant who hasn't done anything.

Dilemma for you. Let me tell ya--glad I wasn't that lady. Decisions are hard enough when they're pie vs. ice cream or paper vs. plastic, let alone this.

Big Event of the Day: Go see a free office-sponsored play with Katie
Percent Chance: 99.75% (barring acts of nature, the show being cancelled, and surprise Oprah on-the-street ambush makeovers (for which I would fully qualify))

19 Cents

I got my band-aid wet when I washed my hands today. Walking back to my cube, I squeezed the band-aid and water came out the little holes, like sweat from real pores. It was kinda weird.

This morning, I noticed one of the marble tiles in my shower is swirled in such a way that it looks like a man in a suit holding a baby. Or possibly eating a baby.

I got my ears pierced way back when I was like 10 or something. I remember for me, the oldest, it was torture waiting that long. All my friends already had them pierced. But whoever at Claires did the little piercer thingy did a good job, though, because as far as I can tell, the holes are exactly symmetrical. So good $10 investment there.

It is soooo hot lately. My apartment is hot, walking to work is hot, the bus is hot, trying to sleep is hot. I mean, I guess I should be grateful--I spent the last 7 months being cold all the time, but can't we just have something in the middle? I need to get an air conditioner, yes sirree.

I played wiffle ball on Sunday with some U of I friends. They instituted a great rule for the game--a no-hustle rule. That's right--you are not allowed to hustle or exert a level of effort that could possibly be construed as "trying to win." People seen hustling (such as sprinting to second base instead of just jogging over to first) were promptly sent back to the previous base. Awesome.

I am never going to Bed Bath & Beyond again. Linens n' Things is much better. At BB&B, I'll spend an hour wandering around the store trying to find someone who will help me, and when they do, they either a) are pissed off I'm taking up their time and they don't work in this section anyway, b) can't find the thing I need, or c) are so slow it seems as if they are walking in waist high invisible sand. Versus LNT where as soon as you walk in you are greeted by 5 or 6 cheerful people who ask you if they can help, and then when you take them up on it and say, "Yeah, actually--could you help me find such-and-such?", they actually walk around with you, show you the different options and maybe even draw a picture with a pink highlighter so you're both clear on your drapery needs, like the last guy did.

Add one to my list of bodily injuries that hurt more than reason would predict: blisters on your feet. Wow. From wearing sandals the last week or so, I have these horrible blisters that won't heal. They hurt even when I'm just standing there barefoot. It's not fun. I had to wear boring pants and winter shoes today because all my sandals give me pain to walk in them. So now the list goes papercuts, burns, and blisters. (Which I guess burns are blisters, so hmm. Same thing I guess.)

Big Event of the Day: CLEAN!! For the love of God!
Percent Chance:
of cleaning more than 5 items: 16.72%

Reprimanded

I just got told to shut up by a neighbor across the courtyard from me. UH! I am so mad. Okay, okay, I didn't realize with it being warm out now people's windows are open and the music I was listening to carried more than it did in the winter. But do you have to yell, "CAN'T YOU JUST SHUT UP!?" out the window at me?

At first I wasn't sure she was talking to me, but I turned off my music and couldn't hear anyone else's, so I figured I was the evildoer she was referring to. Way to just come out fighting, jeez, lady.

After a moment's pause, I actually yelled back to the unseen voice, "You know, you're not very nice."

She sighed and said, "It's 2:30 in the morning and I'm trying to sleep!"

Get into shouting match across courtyard with bodiless voice? Sigh, no--I'll take it.. "Okay, sorry--I didn't realize it was loud."

"THANK you."

She could have said, "Excuse me--Can you turn it down?" or something similar. Didn't have to get all pissy.

God.

I really do hate getting yelled at or reprimanded. Every time I do, it makes me want to cry. I know this makes me a baby, but Shannon tells me she is the same way, so at least I'm not the only one, and maybe there are more of us still.

Just last night some really annoying music was coming out of someone else's window at 3 am, but did I say anything? No. If you want to live someplace quiet, go live on a deserted patch of land or in a monastary. Jeez.

Sorry.

Now I have no music to listen to, and it's hot so I have to have all my windows open, and I don't have air conditioning yet, so I can't close them and listen to something loud. Cranky bedtime girl may tell me to shut up again if I put in an episode of Buffy, which is what this situation calls for, an extreme cheering-up measure to undo the pissiness she caused.

I hate mean people. And the thing is, she didn't sound like a mean person, not on the whole, but she was definitely being mean at the moment. The only thing I'll give her is if maybe she was yelling before I heard her, and when I finally heard her she was on "shut up." If that is the case then fine, I'll swallow my pride.

Whatever.

I'm going to go curl up in my bed now where there are no mean people.

Ant Farms, Big and Small

This goes with my blog from yesterday, the real story of how textbooks get made. Pretty ridiculous, and, as I can attest, absolutely true.

Okay, backing away from the politics now, slowly, on tiptoe, arms in the air.

Here in the city I am amazed at the maintenance that goes on. The money that must be spent. Not so much by the city, as far as sidewalks and subways and stuff (although I can't complain--they keep things pretty clean in the Loop and up by my apartment, although I can't speak for any other places). No, what I mean is the way big fancy office buildings in the Loop are constantly scurrying about, cleaning and redecorating for no apparent reason. For example, in the plant bed in front of the building I work in, they dig up and plant trees on a regular basis. Yes, whole trees, like 20-foot high trees. (Do you know much a tree costs to buy and plant? Just one, let alone 7 at a time?) They change trees the way some people might change the curtains. Only much more often. And they wash the walls. The big polished granite walls inside the building entryways. I have seen guys up on scaffolds, washing these walls. I mean--cool, very clean, good for the economy to have all those jobs for people... but wow. I for one couldn't care less if the walls get scrubbed down. Especially if it's a section of wall 50 feet over my head that a) I can't see or am in danger of ever touching, and b) is inside, so no dirt could ever get on it period, except for if a paint compressor explodes or somebody starts up a particularly rowdy game of raquetball. Just very strange, if you ask me.

I took a different bus to work today. Found out if I buy my little milk chug at the Walgreens 2 blocks up, it only costs $1.01 instead of $1.61 at the Osco in front of my building. Sweet.

I kind of want to see X-Men 3. Weird, I know. But I'm getting a feeling, not sure from where, that this is a sequel that might actually be good. It could be because I heard a rumor (which has since been debunked--I was thinking of Wonder Woman) that Joss Whedon was writing it.

Do you know something about movies that I didn't know? Apparently, for things like this, where it's a comic being made into a movie, or some other big-name franchise (Pirates of the Caribbean is another example--they told me so on the DVD commentary--which I listened to, because, yes, I am dumb... but we've been over this already)... Anyway, for things like this, a studio will first announce it's definitely making the movie, and then they'll ask,"So... Anybody want to write it? You know, decide what's going to happen in this movie that we already started making? We don't know if the plot's any good--hey, we don't even have a plot, but we know this movie's gonna make us millions of dollars, just from the name alone. Start the advertising campaign!"

So then each wanna-be author writes out an original screenplay, presents it to the bigwigs, and the bigwigs pick the one they'll use for the movie. The other, less lucky scripts die a quiet death, never existing as anything more than a stack of papers. (But I like to think those unmade movies still did get made--just in a parallel universe--so it's okay.)

Anyway, the reason I know this is because apparently Joss Whedon submitted a script for Batman Begins, but he didn't get it. Oh well--I heard the movie was good anyway.

I don't know. I feel used. And cheap. And also sorry for those little scripts that never got to come out and play.

Sort of like how textbooks get made, actually...

I would like to do that in life, though, the way corporations do it--you know, offer up jobs and watch people come snap them up like doggy treats. "I need a new wardrobe. I am accepting bids for someone to go buy me a new wardrobe." I choose the one who asks the best price; whose sense of style I like most and is most likely to provide me with things that I like. Bam! Suddenly, with no effort from me, great wardrobe.

"The dishwasher needs to be emptied. Anyone?"

Gosh, you could just sit aound and watch your life magically assemble itself, like watching ants build an ant hill in fast forward. All you need is lots and lots of money.

That's enough out of me for now.

Big Event of the Day: Take out garbage
Percent Chance: 50%

What is a Dastard?

I came across a blog today that a girl had obviously just started--she probably started it at a friend's house, or at the library, or in the school computer lab when no one was there.... In her first and only entry, in big letters, she told us she was 11 years old and then gave her first and last name, elementary school and a picture of herself! I felt like saying to her, "Hello!?" Does your mother know what you're up to?" But then I knew she wouldn't listen to me. I ended up sending her a little comment, though, that just said she should take some of that info off the blog. Hopefully she listens.

Internet safety is just like sex education in junior high school. Remember (well, I guess it's still happening, so I guess the word shouldn't be "remember") the whole teaching birth control vs. abstinence thing? I always thought it was stupid and reckless (and I said this a few days ago) to just teach abstinence and not have a backup plan. You need to prepare for what happens if they don't listen to you. You know, give them some knowledge they can use to protect themselves. I'm sure many a parent out there has forbidden their child to go online unsupervised or to start a blog. But what do you do if they blow you off and do it anyway? At least make sure they know how to blog relatively safely.

Kids nowadays are smarter, yes--they have to be. But it scares me sometimes how vulnerable they are, too. They can freely play in the grownups' world now--no one is stopping them--but they don't necessarily know all the rules.

....Funny, I've been doing other things for a few hours here, researching for work (shocking, I know), and I somehow came back to square one. I ended up on some websites for textbook adoptions (where certain states hold meetings to vote on what textbooks they'll allow schools to use), and from there I pulled up a list of letters from parents and community members to the Texas state textbook adoption committee. Almost all of the letters were about (buh buh buhhh) whether textbooks should teach abstinence only or birth control/protection.

If you're curious, here are all the letters.

Wow, hearing the way these people think, am I glad I don't live in Texas. For a number of reasons.

Did you know there are whole networks of support groups for parents who home school their children in Texas? Home schooling is big there, and reading these letters you get an idea of just how many unsatisfied parents there are in Texas... thus all the home schooling. Thoughts? Anyone? Bueller?

Also, can I just tell you I have heard quite enough of the words "agenda," "propaganda," "pandering," and may I repeat, "agenda," to last me the rest of my life. People use those words in a heated argument, I automatically take the other person's side. They are deliberate gloves-off, throw-down words used to tear down the other side without having to rely on any real logic or factual information. Do they really think their side is pure and good and the other faction is comprised of dastardly evildoers? As if both sides wouldn't like to make the world better?

And also, there are bigger problems in the world they should be worrying about.

Anyway. Gosh I'm getting political. That's what happens when you give me a blog and no one to tell me to stop talking. But I do have funny little Becky observations soon. They are percolating. Maybe tomorrow...

Big Event of the Day: Load dishwasher
Percent Chance: 100% (I did it already...) (I think I need a new system--this big Event of the Day thing only works if I blog early in the day....)

Book Deals for the Deserving

I have to write new post for this. For a couple days I've been meaning to mention to you this blog I came across by a girl who's been homeless and living in her car all winter, every day blogging about her experience. It's fascinating reading, very poetic, sometimes quirky, and impossible to get out of your head. And as this girl was hoping, by blogging about her experience over the course of months, some ears eventually perked up and she got a book deal! Soon she'll have the money for a warm apartment and a bed and her own bathroom and everything! Very cool. Check it out. (Start reading from the beginning to really get her story.)

Contender for Best Dinner Ever

I just spent the last 3 hours making and then devouring... well, I was about to say "the best dinner EVER," but apparently I say that too much. But let me just say that it kicked ass. Chicken taquitos (one of the few Mexican dishes I do really well--diced chicken in seasoning rolled up in tortillas and fried) with sour cream and cotija cheese (the only way to eat them), beans (yes, from scratch, quite good this time...the trick is lots of garlic), Mexican yellow rice (from a mix--I gave up trying to make this... something about it just eludes me), and fresh avocado slices. Uuuuuhhh. Dude. There are no words.

Sorry if you didn't care about that whole last paragraph, but I was really proud of myself.

Of course, as usual when I make taquitos, I burned myself. Dag-nrbit! At least this time it was on the tortilla pan and not on the oil pan, so hopefully it wasn't as hot. That's the price to be paid, apparently, for such awe-inspiring little rolled-up treasures.

Hey, speaking of burns, I have knowledge to impart about them (prob'ly 'cause I get so many lately). Wanna hear? Okay/too bad, depending on your answer.

So since a burn is just your cells cooking (which, obviously is not good for them; thus with the pain), you can compare it to a pot of spaghetti. If you read the box of spaghetti, it usually has you rinse the noodles in cold water right after you drain them, while they're still hot. Why? So you can bring the temperature of the noodles down immediately and stop them from cooking even a tiny bit more. You gotta do the same thing with your burned skin--bring the temperature down as quickly as possible so your skin spends less time overheated. The best thing is cold water, but if you can't get to the sink right away, you can minimize the damage by starting to cool the burn off ahead of time. Touch your finger (or whatever) to something solid and cool and you’ll feel the heat pulled away from it. (Someone told me once that your earlobes absorb the most heat out of any part of your body because there’s little bloodflow to them and they’re mostly cartilage. So if you can’t find anything cold to touch, touch your earlobe.) And then, obviously, still run your burn under cold water as soon as you can.

Some college friends and I are planning a get-together this fall. People are e-mailing back and forth with their work e-mails, which means their official job titles and contact info are at the bottom of each e-mail. Executive director, so-and-so State University School of Law; Advanced Medical Research Consultant, University of blah-blah Medical Center…. Interesting to find out what they’ve done with their lives. Not surprising the direction, but surprising the speed and prestige obtained.. Although I guess if I’d stayed in one career for 5 years I’d have a big fancy title by now, too. Well, except for if I stayed a teacher. My e-mail’d still just say, "Teacher." Which is crap. You should get awards for staying with it. Today the bus was crowded and I was standing next to/over the shoulder of a woman (thin, looked energetic but had gray hair) who was grading papers. Had her pile of tests on her lap—looked like English literature, about 30 of them, each one about 6 pages long—with a red pen at the ready. On the bus on the way to work, grading. The same way we’d frantically rush to do our homework on the bus before junior high school. Only she was a grownup, and she was destined to be doing this for the rest of her working life. You can always tell a teacher by that kind of thing. Work just follows you around day and night like a bad rash you can’t shake. I see images like that and even though lately I’ve been noticing how much I miss being with kids, I say to myself, MAN, I’m glad that’s not me. I know how much that sucks.

My great aunt passed away yesterday. I didn’t know her very well, but still, it makes you stop and think. I was looking out at the window at it raining tonight (and hailing! Hail is cool when you’re not out in it) and I thought, This is the first day she hasn’t been here for. She’s seen all the others the rest of us have, and even ones from before we were born. But this one she hasn’t seen. She doesn’t know what happens today. FYI, Mary Elizabeth, it hailed today. Stuff you missed. I bet she would’ve liked to have been here for that. Just to be surprised one more time.

I like surprises…. Well, good surprises, anyway. No "Surprise! You’re being audited!" or "Surprise! You have an incurable disease!" But nice ones.

Big Event of the Day: Today's over. Who cares?
Percent Chance: 100%

Mostly Again with the Advertising

I’ve taken to listening to music in the morning. The kind I can sing along to, like Lionel Richie or Laura Pausini. It’s a good way to build up your stockpile of good-moodiness in case some of it is depleted during the morning commute by irritating or mean people.

What is it about Mac commercials that are so money? I saw one on TV last night and it struck me as being better than most commercials out there.

Now, I don't want to get into the whole Macs rule/PCs suck war or anything--jeez, people, calm down... It's like people who argue cats vs. dogs or men vs. women. Each has their purpose and contribute to the world in their own special way... la la la, singing and flowers. I'm not making a comment on which computers or operating systems I like better. But looking just at the commercials, I'm sorry--Apple/Mac wins.

You can't deny that for however fancy and "new age" Windows makes their commercials (how much money did they pay back in 1995 to buy the rights to "Start Me Up" by the Stones?), Apple/Mac commercials and print ads just floor them effortlessly with a few simple words and images--a person or two in a blank frame, maybe a line or two of words, and you're sold. They're really good at, whenever possible, letting the product speak for itself.

Take the iPod nano. When it first came out, the ads you saw on airport walls and buses were just simple photos of a hand holding the iPod nano in which the size of the hand completely dwarfed the iPod nano. You already know what a regular-size iPod does, and this ad blasts you in the face with, "Wow, look how tiny. So pretty. Me want." And then you buy it.

Apple/Mac ads manage to come off as being smart but not snobbishly so. "Here's our product--we think it's cool. If you think it's cool too, then buy it." They don’t go so far as call you stupid if you buy the competition’s product, yet they frame the commercial in such a way that you tell that to yourself. That, my friends, is genius.

In contrast, most other commercials, both for PCs/Windows and for just about any other technology product, dress the ad up with gimmicks like fancy music and whooshing graphics. "Ooh! Ahh! So cutting edge! Look how With It we are!" Makes me think of the way middle-aged folks (this'll be us someday--yow) flock to the dance floor whenever "Celebrate" comes on at a party or wedding. "Woohoo! Let's get down and FUNKAY! Look how CRAAAZY we're gettin'!" Similar properties at work.

So what’s a PC company to do, if it wants to compete with these unstoppable commercials? Here's my solution: If you want someone who’s good at speaking to the audience’s intelligence, keeping up with popular culture, and saying what needs to be said by not saying much at all, I’ll tell you who you gotta go to. You gotta go to Joss Whedon. I think if PCs (or any other industry, for that matter) wanted to increase sales, they’d make him head of the marketing department. (Although I hear he’s got lots of other stuff going on, so prob’ly not so much with the availability.)

Like how I worked in that Joss Whedon plug, did'ja?

I gotta make a field trip now to get my shoes. Left ‘em at Tango on Friday. D’oh!

Big Event of the Day: Pick up tango shoes
Percent Chance: Well, now that I spent over an hour looking for links, I'm starting to get lazy... oh, come on. It's already 8:02... Ride a bus to and from, then the el train, then walk 6 blocks home? 11%.

Foul

I write a nice juicy blog for you and nothin’. Not a single comment. Where is the love?

I had to climb the fence to get out of my building this morning because the front lock is electronic, and it was broken this morning. Not broken open--broken locked shut. Not a good idea, people. We already don’t have keys to the side gates, so this is our only way out. What if there was a fire? We would have all been trapped. And besides, not everyone is going to be physically able to hop that fence. It’s tall with vertical poles that stick out the top (threatening to impale intruders in the gut) with not much to hold onto. What if I were shorter, or older, or smarter and less fearful of bodily injury?

This is what I don’t like about technology. One, you get so dependent on it that you don’t know what to do if it breaks down. This is why I usually don’t use calculators to do math, like on my taxes and stuff. If I did, I’d forget how to do it by hand. And second, this relates directly to a pet peeve I have of when you ask someone, "What do I do if it doesn’t work?" and their response is, "It will work." And you say, "Well, yeah, but what if, for some unknown reason, it breaks?" And they say, "Trust me, it won’t break." When your backup plan is that you won’t need a backup plan, you’re just being stupid and setting people up for a disaster. Last summer I had a flight out to New York with a connection in Washington, D.C. The flight to Washington D.C. kept getting delayed and delayed. Finally I went and asked the guy at the desk, "What if I don’t make my connecting flight?" And he said, "You’ll make your connecting flight." And I said, Yes, but what if I miss it?" and he said (as if I were crazy to be concerned that I would have a window of less than 10 minutes (and shrinking) in which to make it from one gate to another), "You won’t." Guess what? I missed my flight.

Irritating feces-heads.

So then after the fence-climbing (which I accomplished, yay, successfully without injury to body or clothing), I called the maintenance guy at my building to explain the problem, figuring he’d want to know right away…People weren’t able to get in or out of the building. He started talking to me all irritated-like as if I didn’t understand, what was I talking about, everyone has a key to that door, you shouldn’t need a key….ARGH! I was getting on the bus at this point and I just told him, "Never mind. Hopefully someone else will call soon to explain the problem to you." I guess I should have been much meaner, but I was tired, getting on the bus and didn’t want to make a scene, and besides, he already thinks I’m Miss Over-needy Tenant, what with me calling to notify him that the basement smelled like an increasingly foul-smelling latrine with brown goo seeping up into the floor and that they maybe should fix it after waiting 3 weeks for them to notice it on their own.

I guess this is what it’s like to rent from a big company. Unsanitary and violating fire code.

Write me things.

Big Event of the Day: Go to the grocery store
Percent Chance: 50%

Gray

The other day I had a revelation. I noticed that I always seem to be more troubled about life in general when I have no other problems going on. Almost like my mind craves a problem and so creates one. And then I remembered something from The Matrix.

AGENT SMITH:
Did you know that the first Matrix was designed to be a perfect human world? Where none suffered, where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster. No one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost.

Some believed that we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world. But I believe that as a species, human beings define their reality through misery and suffering.

The perfect world was a dream that your primitive cerebrum kept trying to wake up from. Which is why the Matrix was redesigned to this, the peak of your civilization.

I know the enemy said it, and I know we're supposed to think how crazy and messed-up he is that he would think that, but I have to mostly agree with him. (Besides, I've found that in a lot of really great movies or TV shows, the enemy has some knowledge to impart--despite the fact that they're evil, you can't ignore the truth of what they're saying. I think it helps make them look more daunting, more godlike. Discuss.) So I have to agree with Agent Smith. People crave suffering. While people spend their lives trying to escape it--cold, hunger, the absence of love-- suddenly, if the world is peaceful, they find the need to go searching for misery when it's not there. At least if you're hungry, sick, homeless, have no money, are in physical danger, your problems are more urgent but less deep. You've got plenty of misery to deal with and don't need to go looking for more. But if you have everything you think you want (home, family, money, fulfilling job), you just have to look harder for problems. You have to dig deep to find them and the only ones you can find are the ones that you chew on for days on weeks on months on end: "Who am I? Why am I here? Do I matter?" (Now I won't be a true nerd and mention Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, but, you know, I could.)


And, okay, I know this will cross the line into making this a Matrix superfan post.... but while I was looking for that, I found this. Now I remember why I liked that movie so much. It's too bad that the sequels sucked, because it made people start to remember the first one as being bad, too, when it wasn't.

AGENT SMITH:
Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment. But you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area.

There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus.

Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You are a plague. And we are... the cure.

Sometimes when I see construction trailers and bulldozers perched at the edge of untouched farmland, I think of that.

Anyway.

Days like today, cold misty days with a smell of hot fried breakfast in the air, they make me think of Great America and how it seemed like every time we went it was cold and damp like that. It never seemed worth it to me, the getting cold and soaked to the core, toes turning into soggy icicles, even if we did get to go on all the rides with no wait.

Also, why is drizzle such a fun-sounding word and sleet such a hard, unforgiving one? It seems strange for two things so similar.

Big Event of the Day: Tango practice!
Percent Chance: 92%

Bloghead

I just invented myself a yummy dinner. Cubed pork, olive oil, white wine, apple cider vinegar, rosemary, a little garlic, salt, let it cook down so the wine and vinegar sweeten and thicken up.... occassionally in all my kitchen disasters I manage to put together something that is actually good, that I would actually serve other people, and it causes me to say to myself, "Damn! This is good!" I love it when that happens.

So I have been commanded to write more things. I was beginning to feel maybe I had a case of bloghead (as my friend Shannon calls it). Who really cares what one person has to say anyway? Do I really think my own perspective on life is better or more valuable than anyone else's?

But if it's for the amusement and comfort of my readers, well then, who am I to deny you this priceless experience? I am your humble servant.

Lately for some reason I've been having flashbacks from junior high school. And not the good stuff either. The petty fights with friends that left you completely socially adrift within 24 hours, the insecurity, the awkwardness, wanting desperately to fit in and not knowing how.... oh my god it was awful. I think I had forgotten how miserable that time really was until it surfaced again. Bleeeeehh.

Our city is really segregated. It bothers me sometimes. Today as I walked to the bus stop after work, there was a convention in town or something at the Hyatt. About a hundred nametag-wearing people milling about. I counted 2 Indian guys, a handful of white girls, but mostly, mostly white men. (And, side note, about 40% of them were wearing blue shirts. I think blue shirts have reached a saturation point. Yes, they look nice and all, but if everyone wears a blue shirt, well then, where's the originality?) And I guess in itself that's not proof of the segregation, but today a black family got off at the bus stop where I catch the bus in the morning, and I thought, "That's weird. Wonder why they're here?" So obviously not a common occurrence. I could go days where the only black people I see are the bus driver, the cashier at the Quick-E-Mart at work, and a homeless guy, and the only hispanic person I see is Edith at the Quick-E-Mart on the way home about once every two weeks. Something is wrong here. Funny, I thought the suburbs were segregated, but Chicago seems more so, at least as far as neighborhoods to live in. Workwise, less so--you see a pretty good mix walking around the loop--but if the people working upstairs at my company are mostly white and the security guards downstairs are mostly black, you can't really say that's not segregated, either. You're just in different bubbles that happen to be close to each other.

I need to go to bed. But first, I'd like to send a shout-out to bus drivers. They can always tell if you're waiting for their bus just by the way you look at them; they wait for you if they see you running; and once you're on board they even accelerate slowly so you have a chance to sit down and not fall over. Now I don't know how other cities' bus drivers are, but I have had an overall pleasant bus-riding experience. Not always from the passengers (bad breath affects everyone, people), but as far as the drivers, I can't complain.

Big Event of the Day: It was going to be going to the grocery store, but it didn't happen.
Percent Chance: Earlier, I would have said 25%. Now it is 0%. Okay, well, maybe I'm supposed to plan for some statistical non-impossibility, so I'll give you 0.0075%. Just in case my house burns down suddenly and I have to find a 24-hour Jewel so I can buy....I don't know....a blanket so I can sleep in the park.

Beckyless Week

Sorry for the lack of blogging. It has been a busy busy week. Even now I can't write much, but here are some random thoughts I've been collecting this week:

Can we please stop the insane "seriously, undeniably, we're-not-kidding-you free checking" business? This has so got to be an American thing, to take something that used to be free, and now advertise it as being something special. Something that previously the idea of someone even charging you for it was absurd, but now, everyone must be charging because this company made a point of saying how with them it's free. "Look! Aren't we so benevolent and ethical! We're not charging you." Do people really get charged for checking accounts? I don't. Discuss.

Pro Pencil! Now with FREE attached eraser!

Primo Coffee! Now with FREE plastic stirrer!

Mr. Hamburger! Now with FREE mustard and pickles!


Sunday I went out to breakfast with my friend Mike (there, now you got your mention--happy?) and he made a quite astute and previously unnoticed by me (as we know, a lofty goal) observation--that breakfast is the happiest meal of the day. When you go out to eat, people out for breakfast are always the happiest. We looked around and decided it was true. Theories?

Somebody left a pair of sandals out by the bus stop. I saw them this morning. Kind of hidden in the back under the metal pole. Who put them there? Why? Did they not want them anymore and left them in case a homeless person wanted them? Did they change their shoes and then forget to take them home? Is there an illicit sandal-trafficking business being run out of that bus stop and I had witnessed a drop in progress?

Also, let's talk about homeless people. I have a question. How does it get decided who gets what corner? Is it a first-come, first served thing? Do people just know, "Oh, that's Rick's corner--I better find a different place"? Does Rick beat up anyone who takes his corner? Are there highly sought-after corners? The ones with the most possibility for cash? Which corners are these? How did they decide this? Are there pimp-type figures for the homeless? Guys who'll guard your corner for you in exchange for a kickback?

Why are there few female homeless--are they just making money through "special dates," or do they have kids to support and so go to shelters, etc.? Where do they sleep? How do you get a good place to sleep? If there is a homeless shelter, would you sleep there? How much money can you pick up begging in a day? Are people begging because they need the money for food or for other things? What do directors of the shelters think about begging?

Okay, so that was more than one question.

I bet you "beg" is a really old word. Almost as old as "eat," and "want" and "live." Well, maybe not that old. But at least as old as there have been cities and not everyone knew everyone and therefore had no obligation to take care of each other. And there was no way for a person to live off the land if they were alone so they had to plead for help.

I'm still at work and I'm hungry. But all I have to eat is garlic bread from lunch, and it will give me really stinky breath, and then I'll have to brush my teeth here at work before I go out tonight 'cause I won't have time to go home beforehand, I ate my last piece of gum today so I can't fake it, the bathroom is so far away, and yes, I do happen to have my toothbrush and shampoo and everything in my bag (that's me--always prepared for any unexpected trip!--Funny how it never happens), but it's too much effort, so I guess I'll just suffer the hunger.

Big Event of the Day: Tango practice or Blonstein's party or both
Percent Chance: Tango, 15%; Party, 25%; Both, 7%; neither, 53%

May Day

Tango was fun on Friday night. I got to hang with my favorite kind of people--people who are nice just because--not because they want something or because they want everyone to see and admire what exceptional human beings they are. They showed me new moves, danced with me even though I'm sure it was annoying, made sure I got home okay, and invited me to be sure to come next time. Since I learned so much there, I'm more optimistic about tango lessons as a whole.

On the other hand, Arabic was kind of annoying this week. The teacher spent a good 10 minutes telling us how hard it is and to prepare ourselves for years of frustration. True, it's only been 3 lessons (except really only 2 for me), but I feel like it's partly her fault we have no idea what's going on. All we've done is talk about the letters of the alphabet and watch her write words that use certain letters--she hasn't taught us how to pronounce the letters or read any simple words. The only thing I know is the word for book is pronounced ki-TAB, which I've figured out because that's her most common example word, but I don't know how to write it. Rrr.

But anyways, back at tango on Friday, in addition to the nice peopleness and the dancing, there was free food--rotisserie chicken and the best chocolate cake I have ever had in my life. You heard me. The best. I mean, I would have been jealous of myself if I wasn't myself. Kind of a disappointment, though--now every chocolate cake I have I'll be comparing it to that last one, thinking, "Yeah, it's good, but not as good as that one cake I had..." In a way I hate that cake. It ruined me forever, much in the way Thai Pastry ruined me forever with respect to both crab rangoons and pad thai.

Work was crazy today. Looks like it's going to be crazy for quite some time now.

Short blog today--hopefully followed by longer blogs once I get internet at home (What?!).

Big Event of the Day: Hook up my computer and get it running so the internet guy (or girl) can get it set up tomorrow (yes, finally! It's only been 2 months...and you would think it's their fault but really it's mine 'cause I was too lazy/cheap to call them)
Percent Chance: 90%