Likes:
- Tuna melts and great french fries
- The coming of fall
- The rich colors of fall fashion that look good on redheads like me
- Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream
- Random elevator conversations that include topics like Schlitz beer t-shirts, and "sallies" lying about the weather
- Peaches
- Walking
- Talking to my favorite people
- Simon's Tavern for its jukebox and beer
- The song title: "Let's Make Love And Listen to Death from Above" by CSS (Cansei de Ser Sexy)
- The band name: Death From Above 1979
Dislikes:
- G.W.'s voice, looks, mind, way of governing, and general bullshit. I can't wait for the next two years to end, so we can see an end to this administration, and I don't have to feel like vomiting and turning off the radio or TV every time that he's on it.
- Girls who wear scarves and coats when it's 55 degrees outside, for god's sake, if it were 55 degrees in February or March, you'd see people wearing shorts! It's not that cold out dearies...
- Chinese governmental policies and practices
- Boring jobs that don't exercise and expand my brain
- The hypocrisy of secret C.I.A. torture bases and blatant disregard of Geneva Accord policies that good old G.W. is pushing a bill on. What? The U.S. can do it and get away with it, but it's not fair and humane if someone else does it? Major and total bullshit.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
Farewell My Friend
Today, as of 4:00 CST, one of my best friends will be leaving my daily life for good.
You came into my life about five and a half years ago, and there have been few days (excluding my three months out of the country and when you left for two) that you have not been there. It all started when I went through a traumatic break-up. The first boy that I had truly loved tore my heart out, threw it on the ground, and stomped all over it. I was insanely depressed for about a month, crying, not sleeping, not eating, miserable. All of the sudden, I found myself listening to completely different music, and it was making me feel better. I found you, and listened to you in the back of the student loan office in the basement of Williamson Hall while I worked. It was therapeutic. You had me hooked from day one with the music and the personalities. You introduced me to so many musicians that I listen to on a regular basis, but are far too numerous to try to even mention. I've told all of my friends about you, and they know how obsessed I am with you. Tonight, they will comfort me when I tell them that you are gone for good, and not laugh at me for crying over it. A little over two years ago you said you were leaving. I wrote you a love letter (that I will have to dig up and post on here as well) and sent it to you. I meant everything that I said from the bottom of my heart. I listened to you during your final hours, it was heart-wrenching. So much good music, so many emotions, from laughter to tears. Then, miraculously, almost two months later, you sent an email, saying that you were coming back. It was one of the best emails I've ever gotten, and I longed for the day that I could hear you again.
A few weeks ago, you sent the message that you were leaving again, and this time, I don't think there will be any miracles bringing your return to me. I will miss you, along with hundreds of others. Yesterday, you mentioned me to everyone that was listening, and gave me a great compliment. I sat here, with a huge smile on my face, but with tears in my eyes, knowing it would be the last time you said my name, the last time you would do anything for me at my request. I sit here now, listening, only three hours left, feeling my heart slowly breaking. I know you're trying to be strong, but I know that every couple of hours, I hear your voice wavering with emotion.
You did your own thing, didn't listen to anyone who tried to tell you what to do. You said you were independent, and proved it. You played the best music and a few songs that I didn't really care for every once in a while. I loved you unconditionally. I still have everything you ever sent to me, and display it with pride.
I'll never forget the impact that you made on my life. You changed me, and helped mold me into the person that I am today. I'm going to miss you, but I know that I'll have to move on. No, I don't feel like you are tearing out my heart and stepping on it, this isn't that traumatic, but it will still hurt me.
Thank you for everything Barb, Mike, Shivvy, Bryan Jay, Linda, Doug, 97X, and woxy.com.
Quoting Dustin Hoffman, "97X BAM! The Future of Rock and Roll"
Edit: Current Playlist
Pizzicato Five - Happy Sad
Bjork - oga
PJ Harvey - We Float
Lab Partners - Sensations
Captain of Industry - It Might Be Me
Playing Pizzicato Five - a band that the heartbreaker introduced me to, and you actually play over the airwaves. "Happy Sad" - Perfect song for my current feelings.
You came into my life about five and a half years ago, and there have been few days (excluding my three months out of the country and when you left for two) that you have not been there. It all started when I went through a traumatic break-up. The first boy that I had truly loved tore my heart out, threw it on the ground, and stomped all over it. I was insanely depressed for about a month, crying, not sleeping, not eating, miserable. All of the sudden, I found myself listening to completely different music, and it was making me feel better. I found you, and listened to you in the back of the student loan office in the basement of Williamson Hall while I worked. It was therapeutic. You had me hooked from day one with the music and the personalities. You introduced me to so many musicians that I listen to on a regular basis, but are far too numerous to try to even mention. I've told all of my friends about you, and they know how obsessed I am with you. Tonight, they will comfort me when I tell them that you are gone for good, and not laugh at me for crying over it. A little over two years ago you said you were leaving. I wrote you a love letter (that I will have to dig up and post on here as well) and sent it to you. I meant everything that I said from the bottom of my heart. I listened to you during your final hours, it was heart-wrenching. So much good music, so many emotions, from laughter to tears. Then, miraculously, almost two months later, you sent an email, saying that you were coming back. It was one of the best emails I've ever gotten, and I longed for the day that I could hear you again.
A few weeks ago, you sent the message that you were leaving again, and this time, I don't think there will be any miracles bringing your return to me. I will miss you, along with hundreds of others. Yesterday, you mentioned me to everyone that was listening, and gave me a great compliment. I sat here, with a huge smile on my face, but with tears in my eyes, knowing it would be the last time you said my name, the last time you would do anything for me at my request. I sit here now, listening, only three hours left, feeling my heart slowly breaking. I know you're trying to be strong, but I know that every couple of hours, I hear your voice wavering with emotion.
You did your own thing, didn't listen to anyone who tried to tell you what to do. You said you were independent, and proved it. You played the best music and a few songs that I didn't really care for every once in a while. I loved you unconditionally. I still have everything you ever sent to me, and display it with pride.
I'll never forget the impact that you made on my life. You changed me, and helped mold me into the person that I am today. I'm going to miss you, but I know that I'll have to move on. No, I don't feel like you are tearing out my heart and stepping on it, this isn't that traumatic, but it will still hurt me.
Thank you for everything Barb, Mike, Shivvy, Bryan Jay, Linda, Doug, 97X, and woxy.com.
Quoting Dustin Hoffman, "97X BAM! The Future of Rock and Roll"
Edit: Current Playlist
Pizzicato Five - Happy Sad
Bjork - oga
PJ Harvey - We Float
Lab Partners - Sensations
Captain of Industry - It Might Be Me
Playing Pizzicato Five - a band that the heartbreaker introduced me to, and you actually play over the airwaves. "Happy Sad" - Perfect song for my current feelings.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Produce Delivery!
This week's delivery included:
Broccoli
One beet
Lettuce
3 bananas
2 summer squash
Delicata squash
3 tomatoes
One purple onion
Mizuna Greens
3 red potatoes
2 red pears
2 apples
3 carrots
Cabbage
Cucumber
Broccoli
One beet
Lettuce
3 bananas
2 summer squash
Delicata squash
3 tomatoes
One purple onion
Mizuna Greens
3 red potatoes
2 red pears
2 apples
3 carrots
Cabbage
Cucumber
Friday, September 08, 2006
!!!
I am going to be whipped into a frenzy tonight, and I am going to like it.
Edit: !!! (chk chk chk) does me like no other.
Edit: !!! (chk chk chk) does me like no other.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Hobos Play Banjos Too
Sweet jesus, have you ever thought of being a hobo? Between reading Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums and finding this Halfway Hobo, I'm intrigued, especially when I check out the links from the front page. Of course, I wouldn't/couldn't do it alone. Perhaps I could talk my brother into another brother/sister adventure with me.
The travel bug has begun itching again, and I don't know what to do about it. It's like an insatiable thirst and hunger for me at this point, and all I ever do is feel restless. Settle or unsettled? Which is right for me? I know I've said yes to both, and at some points, I definitely lean towards "settled", but at the same time, it seems that I get bored quickly. If I could have my way (and was independently wealthy), I would work at some job that I liked for a couple of months, go off and be a farmer for a couple of months, stay in India for a couple of months, and travel wherever the world takes me for a few months every year and do it over and over again. Fantasies and dreams, right?
How can I get to the point in my life where I am ready to let go of all of my possessions and stop caring about permanency? When will it happen? Can I really just become a wandering bum, without the "bum" look at some point?
Will I ever find a place/thing/person/job that will keep me happy for a long time and in one place?
The travel bug has begun itching again, and I don't know what to do about it. It's like an insatiable thirst and hunger for me at this point, and all I ever do is feel restless. Settle or unsettled? Which is right for me? I know I've said yes to both, and at some points, I definitely lean towards "settled", but at the same time, it seems that I get bored quickly. If I could have my way (and was independently wealthy), I would work at some job that I liked for a couple of months, go off and be a farmer for a couple of months, stay in India for a couple of months, and travel wherever the world takes me for a few months every year and do it over and over again. Fantasies and dreams, right?
How can I get to the point in my life where I am ready to let go of all of my possessions and stop caring about permanency? When will it happen? Can I really just become a wandering bum, without the "bum" look at some point?
Will I ever find a place/thing/person/job that will keep me happy for a long time and in one place?
Friday, September 01, 2006
A New Diversion
I recently signed up for an organic produce co-op that is hosted by a local organic market. They partnered with an organic farm in Wisconsin to make weekly deliveries of fresh fruits and veggies to the city at an affordable price. Most of the stuff is grown at the farm, but some of it is shipped in from other organic farms. For $22/delivery, I get a box full of stuff that will feed me, and at least one other, for the week. I picked up my first shipment this afternoon, and also opted for the "fruit surprise" bag for an extra charge. I'm going to post the list of everything that was included (on a per delivery basis) for each shipment that I receive. So far, it's definitely worth the cost. The only drawback is that it was pretty heavy to carry home, and I ended up taking a bus from the train station, instead of my usual walk. I just might have to invest in one of those "old lady" shopping carts to help me along the way. Here is the list, as promised, and I think I might try to make an additional post with the ways that I use the items:
2 lbs seedless red grapes (too bad I don't like grapes, someone else will be the lucky recipient of these)
4 plouts (don't know, looks like a plum)
3 oranges
1 melon (looks like cantaloupe, but not exactly)
4 white peaches
3 red potatoes
2 tomatoes (including one heirloom variety)
1 zucchini
1 cucumber
1 onion
1 beet
Bag of mixed field greens
Bag of some other green (I'm guessing it's mache, but I could be wrong)
Bag of celery
Head of cauliflower
3 carrots
Small bag of green beans
Woo hoo! Let the cooking and good eating begin!!
Edit: I made a nice mixed salad, and a fruit salad with some of the ingredients last night:
And another:
2 lbs seedless red grapes (too bad I don't like grapes, someone else will be the lucky recipient of these)
4 plouts (don't know, looks like a plum)
3 oranges
1 melon (looks like cantaloupe, but not exactly)
4 white peaches
3 red potatoes
2 tomatoes (including one heirloom variety)
1 zucchini
1 cucumber
1 onion
1 beet
Bag of mixed field greens
Bag of some other green (I'm guessing it's mache, but I could be wrong)
Bag of celery
Head of cauliflower
3 carrots
Small bag of green beans
Woo hoo! Let the cooking and good eating begin!!
Edit: I made a nice mixed salad, and a fruit salad with some of the ingredients last night:
And another:
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Purse + Engagement Ring = Status
This morning, I'm watched a weekly Sunday morning news program, with mainly stories of interest. Two of the segments involved purses and engagement rings. Both made me want to puke.
The purse segment was ridiculous. Here we go, taking a visual tour of the hottest handbags, all of which are large and hideous in my eyes. What's worse is the price tag. These babies are selling for $3,000, $6,000, $12,000 and up! The woman working as a salesperson at one of the higher end purse boutiques said that your purse was a signal of your status. I don't care how much money I make, I would never, ever, spend such amounts on a fucking handbag that looks cute or ridiculous under my arm. Do you know how many months those amounts would pay my rent? Or how many trips around the world I could take spending the same amount? Or how many people I could feed, or how many people I could vaccinate, or how many people could get warm clothing for the winter? Truthfully, at this point, I would take that money and put it towards my bills, but if I weren't in debt and didn't have much to worry about, then I would definitely be putting it towards a better cause than a fashion accessory. When I was younger, I abhorred purses. I would carry everything around in my pockets. My role model was my wallet-less father, who carried cash secretly stashed in his pants, and his identification and cash card held together with a rubber band in his back pocket. If he could do it, I could do it. When I graduated from college, and had to go out into the working world, I started to conform, and bought my first adult woman purse. I can guarantee it didn't cost more than $25, and it was probably on sale. Today, I do admit to having more than one purse, and a couple of them are pretty darn cute, if you ask me. BUT, if I see something that I like, and it's more than $50, forget about it. Just let me walk outside on a city street, to the man with the purse cart on the sidewalk, and buy a knock-off instead if I really like it, for a fraction of the price. In fact, after watching this stupid piece on the thousands of dollars handbag, it make me want to just carry everything around in a paper bag even more.
Next up, the engagement ring. Here we are again, dealing with an item that brings you status, or shows your (man's) status. Often, while riding on the train through different affluent neighborhoods that shall remain un-named (ahem, anything south of Uptown and north of Chinatown), I see women get on with these giant rocks on their fingers. To me, they are pretty obese (the diamonds), and not in a good way. I'm sorry, but why would you want a giant hunk of something sticking out off of your finger, only to get caught on things, and an additional item to worry about? They're just not attractive. On this particular news segment, a woman walked around New York City, asking people their opinions of her diamond engagement ring. Comments such as, "wow, that's a good size", or "looks expensive" or "your fiancée must be successful" were made. Then they aired a group of three men, who were friends, and all had purchased larger-than-usual rings for their fiancées. Their reasoning? So the women could feel proud of their ring, and their men. What kind of bullshit is that? If I am marrying a man, I am most likely already proud of them for whatever they do and achieve, and I don't need a ring to prove that or how much money they make. I can't remember the exact percentage of a man's salary that he is expected to spend on an engagement ring, but whatever it is, it's too high. In this segment, they said the average engagement ring costs around $5,000. Five thousand dollars? If I ever become engaged, and my future husband tries to give me ANYTHING that costs close to that much, I'll send him straight to the mental institution, and get him on the waiting list for a new brain, because obviously, he is NOT thinking clearly. And this is just the beginning of the expenses; you still have the wedding band, and the actual wedding to pay for! If that's not the easy street to years of debt, I don't know what is. I guess whoever decides to spend the rest of his life with me, will get off easy. I don't want a giant, expensive diamond engagement ring (don't get me wrong, I do want an engagement ring, just not that kind), I don't want a fancy wedding band, and I plan to get married on the shore of Lake Superior at my parent's cabin, with a small pot-luck wedding reception to follow. You really don't need all of this extravagance to show someone that you're in love. Especially considering the high divorce rate at the moment. You could lose it all in five years, and for what? Someone that you thought was right for you who turned out to be all wrong. If someone wants to spend copious amounts of money on me, don't buy something that only I will get any use out of. Put it towards a nice vacation together, or a down payment on a house. Something we can both use and enjoy. Plus, I don't want to worry about how much money I'm wearing on my finger, and if I'll ever lose it or have it stolen. My mother never got an engagement ring, and said she was lucky to even get a wedding band. I guess it was just good luck that gold prices were down in 1972, and my dad found something that he could afford. My father does not wear a wedding band, reasons probably being cost and the fact that he isn't a jewelry wearing man. My mom made her wedding dress, and they had a simple wedding, and probably a simple reception. I'm glad that I have realistic role models, who aren't concerned with status and showing off, just showing that they love each other, and have continued their bond for over 30 years, which is a lot better than most.
That all being said, and to sum it all up, FUCK YOU, YOU MATERIALISTIC WHORES. If a giant ring and a fancy handbag give me status in this society, or any society, please remove me from it. If you are so dim-witted that those things matter to you, you have issues, please get a reality check and look around you and see what's happening to other people in your own country, and the world itself. If I ever ask and expect such things, smack me, hard.
The purse segment was ridiculous. Here we go, taking a visual tour of the hottest handbags, all of which are large and hideous in my eyes. What's worse is the price tag. These babies are selling for $3,000, $6,000, $12,000 and up! The woman working as a salesperson at one of the higher end purse boutiques said that your purse was a signal of your status. I don't care how much money I make, I would never, ever, spend such amounts on a fucking handbag that looks cute or ridiculous under my arm. Do you know how many months those amounts would pay my rent? Or how many trips around the world I could take spending the same amount? Or how many people I could feed, or how many people I could vaccinate, or how many people could get warm clothing for the winter? Truthfully, at this point, I would take that money and put it towards my bills, but if I weren't in debt and didn't have much to worry about, then I would definitely be putting it towards a better cause than a fashion accessory. When I was younger, I abhorred purses. I would carry everything around in my pockets. My role model was my wallet-less father, who carried cash secretly stashed in his pants, and his identification and cash card held together with a rubber band in his back pocket. If he could do it, I could do it. When I graduated from college, and had to go out into the working world, I started to conform, and bought my first adult woman purse. I can guarantee it didn't cost more than $25, and it was probably on sale. Today, I do admit to having more than one purse, and a couple of them are pretty darn cute, if you ask me. BUT, if I see something that I like, and it's more than $50, forget about it. Just let me walk outside on a city street, to the man with the purse cart on the sidewalk, and buy a knock-off instead if I really like it, for a fraction of the price. In fact, after watching this stupid piece on the thousands of dollars handbag, it make me want to just carry everything around in a paper bag even more.
Next up, the engagement ring. Here we are again, dealing with an item that brings you status, or shows your (man's) status. Often, while riding on the train through different affluent neighborhoods that shall remain un-named (ahem, anything south of Uptown and north of Chinatown), I see women get on with these giant rocks on their fingers. To me, they are pretty obese (the diamonds), and not in a good way. I'm sorry, but why would you want a giant hunk of something sticking out off of your finger, only to get caught on things, and an additional item to worry about? They're just not attractive. On this particular news segment, a woman walked around New York City, asking people their opinions of her diamond engagement ring. Comments such as, "wow, that's a good size", or "looks expensive" or "your fiancée must be successful" were made. Then they aired a group of three men, who were friends, and all had purchased larger-than-usual rings for their fiancées. Their reasoning? So the women could feel proud of their ring, and their men. What kind of bullshit is that? If I am marrying a man, I am most likely already proud of them for whatever they do and achieve, and I don't need a ring to prove that or how much money they make. I can't remember the exact percentage of a man's salary that he is expected to spend on an engagement ring, but whatever it is, it's too high. In this segment, they said the average engagement ring costs around $5,000. Five thousand dollars? If I ever become engaged, and my future husband tries to give me ANYTHING that costs close to that much, I'll send him straight to the mental institution, and get him on the waiting list for a new brain, because obviously, he is NOT thinking clearly. And this is just the beginning of the expenses; you still have the wedding band, and the actual wedding to pay for! If that's not the easy street to years of debt, I don't know what is. I guess whoever decides to spend the rest of his life with me, will get off easy. I don't want a giant, expensive diamond engagement ring (don't get me wrong, I do want an engagement ring, just not that kind), I don't want a fancy wedding band, and I plan to get married on the shore of Lake Superior at my parent's cabin, with a small pot-luck wedding reception to follow. You really don't need all of this extravagance to show someone that you're in love. Especially considering the high divorce rate at the moment. You could lose it all in five years, and for what? Someone that you thought was right for you who turned out to be all wrong. If someone wants to spend copious amounts of money on me, don't buy something that only I will get any use out of. Put it towards a nice vacation together, or a down payment on a house. Something we can both use and enjoy. Plus, I don't want to worry about how much money I'm wearing on my finger, and if I'll ever lose it or have it stolen. My mother never got an engagement ring, and said she was lucky to even get a wedding band. I guess it was just good luck that gold prices were down in 1972, and my dad found something that he could afford. My father does not wear a wedding band, reasons probably being cost and the fact that he isn't a jewelry wearing man. My mom made her wedding dress, and they had a simple wedding, and probably a simple reception. I'm glad that I have realistic role models, who aren't concerned with status and showing off, just showing that they love each other, and have continued their bond for over 30 years, which is a lot better than most.
That all being said, and to sum it all up, FUCK YOU, YOU MATERIALISTIC WHORES. If a giant ring and a fancy handbag give me status in this society, or any society, please remove me from it. If you are so dim-witted that those things matter to you, you have issues, please get a reality check and look around you and see what's happening to other people in your own country, and the world itself. If I ever ask and expect such things, smack me, hard.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
I HATE THE POST OFFICE AND I HATE PHONE ROBOTS.
Phone robots can never understand what you are saying and can't direct you to the right place. People think that you are crazy when you talk to the robots because you really aren't having a conversation, you are just repeating words and phrases over and over again.
The U.S. Post Office can rarely do anything correctly. Almost every time that I move and have my mail forwarded, something gets screwed up, whether they are still delivering to the old address, the wrong address, keeping a package hostage, or returning to sender. I WANT MY MAIL. By the way, read Charles Bukowski's Post Office for an entertaining insider's actions/views. He really cares about the mails (sic).
Phone robots can never understand what you are saying and can't direct you to the right place. People think that you are crazy when you talk to the robots because you really aren't having a conversation, you are just repeating words and phrases over and over again.
The U.S. Post Office can rarely do anything correctly. Almost every time that I move and have my mail forwarded, something gets screwed up, whether they are still delivering to the old address, the wrong address, keeping a package hostage, or returning to sender. I WANT MY MAIL. By the way, read Charles Bukowski's Post Office for an entertaining insider's actions/views. He really cares about the mails (sic).
Sunday, August 13, 2006
It's All About Me
I had a "me" weekend and it felt good. I can say that it was the first time in a long time that I did anything I damn well pleased these past 2.5 days, barring the mandatory Body Jam class this afternoon (more on that later) at the gym.
On Friday, I went to a friend's gallery opening in the Pilsen neighborhood, and it was interesting, but unfortunately I cannot afford nice things, such as original artwork, so I just admired. The theme of this particular gallery was "Love/Hate" and was based on two songs, "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division, and "Love Will Keep Us Together" by Captain and Tenille. I have to admit that most of the work there didn't do it for me, but I sure did like the painting of a pig with the word "BACON" at the bottom (everyone secretly, or in my case, not so secretly loves bacon). Another enjoyable piece was two paintings of couples. One couple was Sid (as in Sex Pistols) with Marie Osmond and Nancy (as in Sid's Nancy) with Donny Osmond. I had a good conversation with one of the artists, and he asked me if I was there to give moral support to one of the artist's girlfriends, who I am friends with. I said not entirely, I actually do enjoy art, and wish I had enough money to buy some. After that I corrected myself and said "no, if I had enough money to buy original artwork, I wouldn't be here right now, I would be asleep in Goa, and selling hot dogs from a shack on a coconut and palm tree lined beach" and meant it. Of course, the artist enjoyed my honestly, who wouldn't?
After that, I went to a bar to celebrate a friend's surprise 30th birthday. Unfortunately, most of the other people there are ones that I hold no affinity for, so I made my appearance brief. I was hit with a barrage of questions about my trip, such as the generic "how was it?" and at this point, two months after my return, I'm tired of answering such basic questions, especially when it comes to people who I could care less about.
Around 4:30 AM on Friday night, I was woken up by men yelling outside of my apartment building. Hearing voices from passer-bys in the night is nothing new, but this was different. It sounded like something was wrong. I got out of bed, and peeked out my window to see a large S.U.V. sitting in the street with the driver's side door wide open. Then I see the driver wiping off his hands and jumping back in the truck and driving away. I knew that something wasn't right, but I couldn't figure out what had just happened. Less than a minute later, there was a man standing at the gate to the courtyard of the building calling for help and ringing everyone's buzzers. I could see that he was bleeding, but I still wasn't sure what to do...one of the other tenants of the building called out the window to the man and asked what happened and if he should call the police. Shortly thereafter, a woman came out of the building with towels and let the man into the courtyard to help him and wait for the police to arrive. It only took a few minutes for them to show up, surprisingly, at which point, I got dressed and went outside to see if I could help. I gave the two police officers a description of the guys that I had seen as well as the vehicle that they were driving. I couldn't believe that someone had been jumped just below my bedroom window, I thought I was back in a good neighborhood...so much for that feeling. The next morning I walked outside, and there was blood on the sidewalk, and it's still there, I hope it rains and washes it away. Maybe people who have told me to keep a baseball bat are right, or maybe my dad is right when he says that I should get a gun and learn how to use it to maim. My only reservation about those two ideas, is if something ever were to happen in my apartment, and the intruder got a hold of either the baseball bat or the gun, they would most likely turn it on me.
Enough of the bad stuff, back to me. On Saturday, I went to the grocery store, the post office, and back to my previous residence to pick up some more of my stuff. Then I treated myself to a lunch of fries, a corndog (the infamous cousin of the hot dog), and a cupcake. Then I came home and took a two hour nap, man did I miss taking naps in the middle of the day!! Afterwards, I did some more unpacking, and now all that's left is miscellaneous little things, and putting a bunch of pictures into frames and hanging them. Yay, I have a home!!
Today, I enjoyed tea (from my new teapot) and read the Sunday paper, before heading out to the gym for my torture session, I mean Body Jam class. Since the gym is trying to really push this new class, they required that all front desk staff and managers participate in a preview class. Body Jam is a hip hop choreography aerobics class, and let's just say that I haven't participated in a group workout class for probably 15 years. I'm not saying that I don't like to dance, I just like to dance on my own terms, and not in a large room full of windows and mirrors. Fortunately, none of us were exceptionally coordinated with these new moves, so I didn't feel like a total jackass. Also, I was impressed with myself to make it through an entire aerobics class without dying in the middle, considering it's been about a month since I've worked out, and cardio activity has never been my total cup of tea. At least the music was semi-tolerable and up to date.
In the afternoon I treated myself to a movie. I guess I'm not such a cheap date anymore, or else movies and refreshments are exorbitantly priced nowadays. I paid $9.25 for the movie ticket, and $7.50 for a small popcorn and Coke, ridiculous!. At least it was worth it. I saw "Little Miss Sunshine" and it was great! All of the characters were exceptional in their roles, and at one point I was laughing so hard that I was almost crying. I highly recommend seeing it if you have the opportunity. I can't remember the last time that I was in a theater and enjoyed a movie so much. I should take myself out on dates more often, it was nice.
I made my first full dinner tonight in my new home, and it was tasty. I also caught up on Grey's Anatomy, which is a program that I've always had on the TV in the background, but never really watched it. I have to admit that I really enjoyed it and am looking forward to actually watching it in the future.
So that was my "me" weekend, napping, eating, errand running, cleaning, unpacking, eating good food, sleeping late, and self-dates. I really appreciate it more than I used to since I've been so busy lately. I can't wait for the next one!
On Friday, I went to a friend's gallery opening in the Pilsen neighborhood, and it was interesting, but unfortunately I cannot afford nice things, such as original artwork, so I just admired. The theme of this particular gallery was "Love/Hate" and was based on two songs, "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division, and "Love Will Keep Us Together" by Captain and Tenille. I have to admit that most of the work there didn't do it for me, but I sure did like the painting of a pig with the word "BACON" at the bottom (everyone secretly, or in my case, not so secretly loves bacon). Another enjoyable piece was two paintings of couples. One couple was Sid (as in Sex Pistols) with Marie Osmond and Nancy (as in Sid's Nancy) with Donny Osmond. I had a good conversation with one of the artists, and he asked me if I was there to give moral support to one of the artist's girlfriends, who I am friends with. I said not entirely, I actually do enjoy art, and wish I had enough money to buy some. After that I corrected myself and said "no, if I had enough money to buy original artwork, I wouldn't be here right now, I would be asleep in Goa, and selling hot dogs from a shack on a coconut and palm tree lined beach" and meant it. Of course, the artist enjoyed my honestly, who wouldn't?
After that, I went to a bar to celebrate a friend's surprise 30th birthday. Unfortunately, most of the other people there are ones that I hold no affinity for, so I made my appearance brief. I was hit with a barrage of questions about my trip, such as the generic "how was it?" and at this point, two months after my return, I'm tired of answering such basic questions, especially when it comes to people who I could care less about.
Around 4:30 AM on Friday night, I was woken up by men yelling outside of my apartment building. Hearing voices from passer-bys in the night is nothing new, but this was different. It sounded like something was wrong. I got out of bed, and peeked out my window to see a large S.U.V. sitting in the street with the driver's side door wide open. Then I see the driver wiping off his hands and jumping back in the truck and driving away. I knew that something wasn't right, but I couldn't figure out what had just happened. Less than a minute later, there was a man standing at the gate to the courtyard of the building calling for help and ringing everyone's buzzers. I could see that he was bleeding, but I still wasn't sure what to do...one of the other tenants of the building called out the window to the man and asked what happened and if he should call the police. Shortly thereafter, a woman came out of the building with towels and let the man into the courtyard to help him and wait for the police to arrive. It only took a few minutes for them to show up, surprisingly, at which point, I got dressed and went outside to see if I could help. I gave the two police officers a description of the guys that I had seen as well as the vehicle that they were driving. I couldn't believe that someone had been jumped just below my bedroom window, I thought I was back in a good neighborhood...so much for that feeling. The next morning I walked outside, and there was blood on the sidewalk, and it's still there, I hope it rains and washes it away. Maybe people who have told me to keep a baseball bat are right, or maybe my dad is right when he says that I should get a gun and learn how to use it to maim. My only reservation about those two ideas, is if something ever were to happen in my apartment, and the intruder got a hold of either the baseball bat or the gun, they would most likely turn it on me.
Enough of the bad stuff, back to me. On Saturday, I went to the grocery store, the post office, and back to my previous residence to pick up some more of my stuff. Then I treated myself to a lunch of fries, a corndog (the infamous cousin of the hot dog), and a cupcake. Then I came home and took a two hour nap, man did I miss taking naps in the middle of the day!! Afterwards, I did some more unpacking, and now all that's left is miscellaneous little things, and putting a bunch of pictures into frames and hanging them. Yay, I have a home!!
Today, I enjoyed tea (from my new teapot) and read the Sunday paper, before heading out to the gym for my torture session, I mean Body Jam class. Since the gym is trying to really push this new class, they required that all front desk staff and managers participate in a preview class. Body Jam is a hip hop choreography aerobics class, and let's just say that I haven't participated in a group workout class for probably 15 years. I'm not saying that I don't like to dance, I just like to dance on my own terms, and not in a large room full of windows and mirrors. Fortunately, none of us were exceptionally coordinated with these new moves, so I didn't feel like a total jackass. Also, I was impressed with myself to make it through an entire aerobics class without dying in the middle, considering it's been about a month since I've worked out, and cardio activity has never been my total cup of tea. At least the music was semi-tolerable and up to date.
In the afternoon I treated myself to a movie. I guess I'm not such a cheap date anymore, or else movies and refreshments are exorbitantly priced nowadays. I paid $9.25 for the movie ticket, and $7.50 for a small popcorn and Coke, ridiculous!. At least it was worth it. I saw "Little Miss Sunshine" and it was great! All of the characters were exceptional in their roles, and at one point I was laughing so hard that I was almost crying. I highly recommend seeing it if you have the opportunity. I can't remember the last time that I was in a theater and enjoyed a movie so much. I should take myself out on dates more often, it was nice.
I made my first full dinner tonight in my new home, and it was tasty. I also caught up on Grey's Anatomy, which is a program that I've always had on the TV in the background, but never really watched it. I have to admit that I really enjoyed it and am looking forward to actually watching it in the future.
So that was my "me" weekend, napping, eating, errand running, cleaning, unpacking, eating good food, sleeping late, and self-dates. I really appreciate it more than I used to since I've been so busy lately. I can't wait for the next one!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Moved AKA Shifted
Today was the big moving day for me. I loaded and unloaded all of my belongings. I have most of the furniture set up and arranged, with the help of my parents and my brother. I even have my internet set up already, obviously...
Anyway, the main reason for this post: I just made MY bed, and I am excitedly anticipating sleeping in it for the first time in five months. As much as I dislike the stupid, piece of junk, bad mattress, futon, those pillows are really calling my name, saying "Cristin, please just slip under the sheet and lay your head down..." and that's exactly what I'm about to do.
Goodnight!
Anyway, the main reason for this post: I just made MY bed, and I am excitedly anticipating sleeping in it for the first time in five months. As much as I dislike the stupid, piece of junk, bad mattress, futon, those pillows are really calling my name, saying "Cristin, please just slip under the sheet and lay your head down..." and that's exactly what I'm about to do.
Goodnight!
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