shiny crosses

it's back to school time. in a town with mulitple colleges/universities, that means parades of new college students flocking to the local coffee shops. they're so precious with their little haircuts and new clothes... they come in all timid and confused, trying to memorize the campus map in their heads while remembering to make an effort to appear composed and confident. and i am not sure if i am getting older than i feel or if i am making a real observation, but when did colleges start admitting 14 year olds? these little darlings hardly look like they should be crossing the street on their own, much less running off to the big town with the uni. they come in to the coffee house in droves. 6 or 7 at a time. i can't tell if they are actually friends or if they are going about town in their small "get to know your classmates" orientation groups. or perhaps their newly identified "campus group". they also seem to all be wearing a cross symbol of some kind around their neck. wood crosses, metal crosses, gold crosses, gemstone crosses, and my two personal favorites, the iron nail cross or the hemp cross. the former is for the lord-lover who is not fuckin' around. the latter for the proselytizer with a mission to prove that you don't have to be dull to love the lord. they probably have a little fish tattooed somewhere on their bodies too. and always long hair. you know, like jesus. i have a few different theories on the frequency with which these cross-bearers appear publicly. perhaps a grandmother or favorite aunt gave the young person a firm reminder to take jesus with her when she went off to college. my favorite and i think most likely, is that they are entering fully into the zealot phase of young adulthood when the rules and politics are pure and firm. you know, before the development of nuance and complexity. when all things point in one direction and that is the only direction. this phase usually begins with something familiar and what's more familiar than the lutheran church one has attended since baptism? if you must be something, be that something all the way, seems to be the motto of the early college days. so be a christian. and reflect that in every social exchange, every academic paper, every introduction and every piece of apparel.
these shiny happy people are everywhere this time of year. their numbers will dwindle once the novelty of "checking out the town" wears off and once they realize that, contrary to the belief of every high school student in the country, it really is pretty helpful to study and complete homework in college. but for the time being, it's nervous youngsters ordering fruity smoothies and fumbling around for their brand new visa check card, shiny as the crosses around their necks and virgin and pristine as the cardholder is. for now.

drama

no one should ever carelessly combine two real words to make a fake cute word. it's annoying and awkward and simple. but if it were allowed, the word "dramedy" would be an appropriate application to this life of mine. the details will remain confidential and left to the imagination...this blog isn't exactly private. but the basics can be disclosed here.

in the interest of expanding my cast of characters i have added to the one-woman ensemble a sassy and brassy smart-ass cocktail waitress. named shelly, of course. i know that the term cocktail waitress is antiquated and not very feminist of me, but that is part of the character. she doesn't mind the term. she starts her shift as a "server" but by 11:30 "waitress", "hey", "sweetie", "honey", "doll" and even "i need a drink" become perfectly reasonable nomenclature. and as the names get less personal, (or just plain wrong: "kelly", "sheila", "sheri" etc.) the tip jar grows and grows. i have given a lot of consideration to this choice because, as my friend judy pointed out last week, it is a strange fit. but i tend to take myself and other people a lot less seriously than i used to. i could never have done this in my twenties, but now i just observe and think "these guys are going to be obnoxious and they are going to talk about their dicks whether i am around or not, so i might as well make some money off of them. and besides, this will make for fantastic story-writing material. i have also come to recognize a more universal humanity in people that may have eluded me 10 years ago. at 21, i may have written off a lot of my customers as archetypes of the monolithic subcategory "sexists", but there is so much more depth to people than i used to recognize. it's embarrassing to even write this, but it's true and why pretend it isn't, right?
the bottom line is this: it is just damn fun to work in a bar. i laugh so much and i am so entertained while i am there. sometimes it's kind of busy, but it never stops being fun. doesn't really feel like work, except to my back and feet. and i love any opportunity to play a new character. "bar shelly" tends to be really funny and quick-witted. she also laughs a lot when she has no idea what is being said to her. i like to think that if there was a movie made about this character, bette midler (in the 70's) would play her. i know, i know, i just suggested that i am the same as janis joplin. but when one says "fuck"as many times in a night and is surrounded by as many chemically enhanced people as i am....i deserve it.

movies. i love movies.

how much do we love netflix? it is such a wonderful thing when i return to my home after a long day/night/morning/whatever of work and find the wonder of a promising movie in my mailbox. it's like santa and the easter bunny. but netflix is real. it must be the best idea ever. it seems like stopping at the video store on the way home shouldn't be a major task, but it is. i hate it. mostly because the stores in town only really carry the movies that make trillions of dollars in the box office which pretty much means there is a SNL star or nicole kidman in them. don't get me wrong, nic has done some great things, but i need some variety. some intrigue. some education. some damn subtitles from time to time. so blockbuster is pretty much out of the question. as its name might indicate. also, i almost never have real money and if i do there is a shadow of guilt that looms over me if i spend it on things like the rental of stupid movies that i am sure to hate. with netflix, the deal is sealed. they yank the money right out of my account, i don't feel a thing. and i get thousands of recommendations for movies i would like but in many cases would otherwise never have heard of. netflix f-in' rocks. next week some time i should receive "welcome to the doll house". and i don't have to do a damn thing but turn a key in my mailbox. the baby jesus really does love us.

sara's awesome game

sara, of midwestern position fame, has posted a fun ipod shuffle game that i couldn't resist playing and i have to share the results because they are just plain funny. sara was able to just list hers like a normal person. i may have to provide commentary. that's who i am.

to create the soundtrack of your life simply follow the directions you see below.

So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, etc).
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Press play.
4. For every question type the song that's playing.
5. When you go to a new question press the next button.

Ready? GO!

opening credits: Rockabye-- Ani DiFranco

waking up: Stan-- Eminem (does this mean i am going to wake up in a trunk? because i don't really want to.)

falling in love: Left of Center-- Suzanne Vega

fight scene: Ms Jackson-- Outkast (since i am not nor ever likely will be a baby's mama or a baby daddy, i don't think that i will ever have this particular fight. thank god!)

breaking up: I Love You-- Kina (particularly strange in my current situation...)

make up: Damn Your Eyes-- Etta James (wow)

life's okay: Bridge Over Troubled Water-- Eva Cassidy (apparently my life is only okay as long as there is someone telling me, in the most depressing manner possible, that they will take care of me when i "take a walk on the wild side")

mental breakdown: Walk on the Wild Side-- Lou Reed (the song kind of makes me feel like having a breakdown would be a lot of fun)

driving: Touch It Remix-- Busta Rhymes (for sure i would get a speeding ticket)

flashbacks: Fade Into You-- Mazzy Star

happy dance: Politics Polka-- Tina and the B-Side Movement (really funny if you've heard the song- it's very very bouncy. well, like a polka, i guess.)

regretting: Feel Like Breaking Up Somebody's Home-- Etta James (you can't prove anything! i was not responsible! but hypothetically, if i was responsible, i suppose i would regret it.)

final battle: Get It Together-- India Arie (a little freaked out that this would be the theme of the final battle. kinda hope that happens sooner.)

death scene: Blue-- Jayhawks (is the fact that my last post is called "blue" some kind of freakish foreshadowing to this list? damn i hope not! i was just starting to really like/live my life!)

how fun is that!? i started laughing right out loud (naturally) when walk on the wild side started playing. and of course, i am in public. so as is standard for me, i found myself laughing explosively and uncontrollably while strangers pretend not to notice but shift uncomfortably in their chairs. i do this several times a week. i must not mind it.

ok. now everyone run off and play the game and tell me your results. i might even do it a couple more times. because i am self-absorbed.

blue

i'm feeling a little bit sad today. i haven't had a sad day in quite a while but i am blue once again. it is almost fall. at summer's end comes back to school and in my world that has come to be signified only by local university faculty returning in small circles to the coffee shop. i was sitting at my computer updating my sidebar when i overheard bits of the conversation of one such table. phrases like "did you get a memo on that discussion group that is meeting on the 30th?" and "i want my students this semester to think about..." this language serves to remind me that once upon a time i was supposed to follow a very different path. i should be returning to school right now. i am supposed to spend my life in academia. but that's not who i am anymore. now i read books i've already read and update my sidebar and watch movies that also remind me that i once was an intelligent young woman. i am too young to let go of my dream and too broke to entertain it. i guess i'll go make an iced latte. that's important too...

randoming

i am all over the place today. i have 50 half-thoughts and not enough focus or commitment to be faithful to any of them. this has become fairly standard for me and for this reason i would like to officially declare “randoming” to be a legitimate verb at second impression. now anyone who knows me at all knows that i generally don’t go in for “verbing nouns” but this one is going to be an exception. as is “verbing” incidentally. since i am declaring its authenticity, i am also going to take the liberty of defining “randoming”. or “to random”.

Random v. : to random: 1. the act of doing many things at the very same time that one is doing nothing at all. 2. the state of thoughtfulness during which fleeting ideas pass nearly undetected. (see entry for: attention deficit disorder) 3. the physical act of spinning or twirling or jutting repeatedly while attempting to decide which task should occur next. 4. verbal spewage lacking content.

there you have it. today i am randoming in four different ways.
i just decided that i am going to add a new sidebar element. even though i know no one ever pays attention to the sidebar. every day i say at least one thing out loud to a stranger that i spend the rest of the day re-playing in my head and battling anxiety that this person now thinks i am the stupidest person alive. today it was the following conversation:

stranger in coffee shop (holding java jacket and smallest size cup) Does this thing fit this size cup? (as she attempts it and the cup slides all the way through)
me: not usually.

“not usually”? am i a moron? the actual size of both objects is fixed. there is no variation in the size of the java jackets or in the size of the 8 ounce cup. this is a clear yes/no type situation. but i said “not usually”. and i said it just as flatly and matter-of-factly as if i were reporting my name or age to someone. “not usually.” thankfully the woman either wasn’t really listening to me or simply had the gracious generosity to pretend to not notice. but what if, based on my answer to her simple question, she had asked me for an example-- a circumstance under which the jacket does fit the cup. what would i have said to her had the exchange lasted any longer? i imagine a lot of crinkled eyebrows and confused mumblings and then: “Are you always this stupid?” ... “Not usually.”

abandoned treasures

this week there is a post secret card about finding picture frames in thrift stores that still have photos of children in them. the artist who submitted the card becomes sad and angry when s/he sees this. i do too and i can't help but try to imagine what has to happen for them to get there. is it possible that a parent who bothered to put the photo in the frame in the first place could just throw the whole thing into a box and mark it "donations"? what kind of thought process accompanies that? "well, we have so many pictures of (enter child's name), don't bother to take that one out." is it because the photos are cut to size for that frame and would no longer fit in with the other full-size photos? (admittedly, this is an issue for me, so i leave them in the frames behind the next photo. they just pile up in there) is it because someone other than the framer was emptying the home and discarding decorations? did these parents go to prison? are they dead? did they die with hundreds of framed photos in their homes that the busy mourners just didn't deem worthy of the tedious task of separation?
this card reminded me of a time that a friend of mine bought a video camera at a thrift store and it still had a tape with someone's graduation party on it. it was so weird. it also had some very intoxicated/strange (not sure which of those) people doing some impressive lip sync performances for the camera. naturally being the voyeurs that most of us are, we couldn't help ourselves but to watch the graduation party. it felt so strange. like peeking in someone's windows. i couldn't shake the feeling that we were going to get caught at any moment secretly observing the private lives of strangers. the strangest element of the whole experience was that our hometown is relatively small so occasionally a party guest would pass in front of the camera and surprise us by being someone one or both of us knew. this initially seemed like a convenient way to figure out how to return the tape to its rightful owners, assuming that its surrender was accidental. but to return it is to admit to having watched it. and this carried the potential for nervous stammering. what if the rightful owner is the kind of person who is not afraid to point out when something is weird. "you knew it wasn't yours and you could tell it was personal and you watched it anyway?" how does one justify that? i didn't want to. but i didn't have to, i didn't buy the camera. i wonder where that tape is now?

you think you know things...

i had a plan for this post that was totally annihilated by 10 minutes of research. i was going to write about the frequency with which we use phrases and quotations that are totally obscure and whose origins we often know nothing about. my first example was going to be the use of the phrase "He ain't heavy, he's my brother." i was one of the people (and i think there are a lot of us) who believed that it was historically true that the phrase was uttered and recorded at the doorstep of Father Flanagan at Boys Town Omaha sometime in the early 20th century. because not everyone is aware of places like Girls and Boys Town, i have often pondered whether the people who use the quotation in standard exchange ever wonder where it came from. it then occurred to me that before i dash into a long diatribe about something like this, i should find out if what i think i know is actually something i know. good thing i checked. turns out the phrase was a caption to a drawing by someone named B. Van Hooper. Father Flanagan purchased the right to use the image and to change the caption to read "He ain't heavy, Father, he's m' brother." (Rather than "He ain't heavy, Mister...") How misleading! ok, i am not actually bothered by the usage and adaptation, but i am perplexed by the frequency with which people use the phrase now and just make shit up about it. during my 10 minutes of research i discovered that there are millions of page hits that contain the phrase. i clicked on a few. every one of them has a different story to accompany the phrase. if you know you don't know something, don't make shit up. this is especially annoying to me when it's so obvious that people are just lazy about it. my favorite example being the "serenity prayer". here's a newsflash: just because you are too lazy to find out who said what does not make something "author anonymous" or "author unknown". it's only unknown to those who don't bother to know. Reinhold Niebuhr wrote the serenity prayer. his name is not unknown nor is the authorship of the prayer. his work shouldn't be unknown either, having been one of the most brilliant and passionate theologians and ethicists ever to grace our world and now our libraries. anyway, i feel duped by the 'he ain't heavy' story and now every unoriginal phrase i utter will be suspect. i am going to make it my goal to do some research any time i find myself quoting the "unknown". wikipedia, people. it can help, or at least point in the direction of help. but seriously, learn about Reinhold Niebuhr. he's important.