Unfortunately for Princess Aiko, her aunt had a baby boy today, effectively ending all debate on whether Japan will revise its male-only succession rules to allow Princess Aiko to inherit. Honestly, being a female royal in Japan just sucks. One princess got married last year, and she had to abandon the family and her title altogether because she married a commoner, even though the crown prince was able to marry whomever he pleased. I'm not saying that I would automatically turn down the chance to be part of the Japanese royal family, but it doesn't seem like a very sound proposition to me.
I don't really want to go to bed, but I know that I should--I have a conference call at seven a.m. tomorrow, and those always drive me nuts. Sorry for being so boring tonight, but my impending old age is sapping all of my humor. Sigh. Goodnight!
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
six sigma heart
So, there's this song called 'Carousel', by this band called As Tall As Lions. I've heard it a few times over the past couple of days because it's been recommended to me by pandora.com (more on that in a second). Anyway, there's this repeated line that actually says 'sick sick my heart' (which, in my defense, doesn't exactly make sense). But, because I spend too much time thinking about work, I kept hearing 'six sigma heart'--six sigma is a method of quality assurance, originally used in the manufacturing industry, but recently applied to the more squishy realm of customer service, and I've done a bit of reading on it without actually understanding any of it. I'm usually pretty good at understanding song lyrics, but when I strike out, I strike out big. Luckily I looked this one up, since I knew it couldn't be 'six sigma', before it got permanently ingrained in my consciousness.
Anyway, if you haven't already, you need to check out pandora.com. I read a New York Times article about it earlier this week, and now I love it. It's part of something called the Musical Genome Project, in which some company has hired a bunch of people to listen to songs and categorize them by the type of instruments used, the key, harmonies, etc. Now that they've built up a profile of tons of songs, they can custom-build a streaming playlist for you based on a song that you put into their search box. For instance, I put in 'Dani California', the latest single from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and my customized 'radio station' plays music by Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, other Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, as well as lots of bands I've never heard of and several songs that I've really enjoyed. As you're listening, you can give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to songs that you feel strongly about, so that it can continue to tailor its selections to your tastes. Brilliant, eh? Sure, some people may see this as yet another way for someone to get data about you--but I've already made peace with the fact that I love bad music, so if this is divulged publicly someday, I won't be upset at all.
I didn't finish putting my apartment in order; I would make progress for about fifteen minutes, and then take a half-hour break, so there weren't many noticeable changes today. However, I did recycle a whole bunch of cardboard boxes. Also, I made myself a ravishingly-delicious omelette; 'omelette' may be kind, since the pan was too small and so the egg got too thick to adequately fold, but 'ravishingly-delicious' is only inaccurate if you think that it's an understatement. Never again will I pay $10 for an omelette, unless I'm out with friends and don't want anything else on the menu. My omelette contained green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese; I'd sauteed the peppers and onions before making the omelette, so they were soft and tasty rather than crunchy and overwhelming. Combined with two pieces of buttered toast, this was the best meal I'd had in a long time. Yay for cooking! It is sad, however, that I love cooking, but am sized out of most kitchens--I can only reach the bottom shelves of all my cabinets, which means that I'll probably get more use than I would have liked out of the stepstool that I bought. Oh well--now that I'm almost 25, I suppose I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be described as 'leggy', unless there's some sort of nuclear holocaust and everyone elses' legs melt off except for mine. But in that case, everyone else will probably be so bitter that it would feel like a Pyrrhic victory. Hahaha.
Anyway, if you haven't already, you need to check out pandora.com. I read a New York Times article about it earlier this week, and now I love it. It's part of something called the Musical Genome Project, in which some company has hired a bunch of people to listen to songs and categorize them by the type of instruments used, the key, harmonies, etc. Now that they've built up a profile of tons of songs, they can custom-build a streaming playlist for you based on a song that you put into their search box. For instance, I put in 'Dani California', the latest single from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and my customized 'radio station' plays music by Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, other Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, as well as lots of bands I've never heard of and several songs that I've really enjoyed. As you're listening, you can give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to songs that you feel strongly about, so that it can continue to tailor its selections to your tastes. Brilliant, eh? Sure, some people may see this as yet another way for someone to get data about you--but I've already made peace with the fact that I love bad music, so if this is divulged publicly someday, I won't be upset at all.
I didn't finish putting my apartment in order; I would make progress for about fifteen minutes, and then take a half-hour break, so there weren't many noticeable changes today. However, I did recycle a whole bunch of cardboard boxes. Also, I made myself a ravishingly-delicious omelette; 'omelette' may be kind, since the pan was too small and so the egg got too thick to adequately fold, but 'ravishingly-delicious' is only inaccurate if you think that it's an understatement. Never again will I pay $10 for an omelette, unless I'm out with friends and don't want anything else on the menu. My omelette contained green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese; I'd sauteed the peppers and onions before making the omelette, so they were soft and tasty rather than crunchy and overwhelming. Combined with two pieces of buttered toast, this was the best meal I'd had in a long time. Yay for cooking! It is sad, however, that I love cooking, but am sized out of most kitchens--I can only reach the bottom shelves of all my cabinets, which means that I'll probably get more use than I would have liked out of the stepstool that I bought. Oh well--now that I'm almost 25, I suppose I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be described as 'leggy', unless there's some sort of nuclear holocaust and everyone elses' legs melt off except for mine. But in that case, everyone else will probably be so bitter that it would feel like a Pyrrhic victory. Hahaha.
Monday, September 04, 2006
catch a dylan song or some eclipse of the moon
I saw 'Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest' today with Zach and Oniel. Of all of the things that I could have done to celebrate seeing Zach for the first time since before I left for Ireland, this was not the most auspicious thing to pick. Frankly, the movie was disappointing, even moreso that it would have been if it were just boring.
[warning: spoilers follow, for those of you who haven't seen it--which, judging by the box office numbers, probably only includes my parents ;) if you don't want to know, skip until the 'no spoilers' section below]
The writers and producers of this movie didn't seem to understand what made the first 'Pirates' movie so successful. No one cared about the plot, or even about all the explosions--what made the movie special was the interaction between the characters, the occasional moments of surprising character development, and the chance to see all of the main characters do exceptionally crafty things or plan ahead in clever ways. This movie attempted to create a plot to span two movies, and because so much of this movie was set-up for the third movie, the three main characters (Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth) went their separate ways for most of the movie--and none of them are as entertaining alone as they are with each other. There was far too much focus on how 'cool' the sea-creature special effects were, and about twenty minutes' too much usage of the Kraken. Surprisingly, I thought some of the best lines came from Commodore Norrington, who was really a one-dimensional bit part, but allowed to grow a beard for this particular outing.
But the worst was that none of the main characters developed in ways that made me love them, and two of the three of them did things that seemed uncomfortably out of character. Sparrow going valiantly to his doom with the Kraken would have seemed heroic and tragic if he hadn't spent most of the movie either absent or being an ass--for instance, it was never explained why it was necessary to send Will on a suicide mission, nor did he do anything to rectify the situation. And the whole thing with Elizabeth and Sparrow was just weird--granted, pirates are hotter than 'good guys', but in this particular movie, Will Turner seemed more clever than Sparrow, despite being held back by all his heroism and morals.
I guess the problem for me was that I felt some level of affection for the characters after the first movie, and this movie destroyed a lot of my good will towards them. I know I'm overreacting--but I would have the same reaction if they made a fourth 'Lord of the Rings' and Aragorn turned into an alcoholic. I'll still see the third one in hopes that they can redeem themselves--and I hope that the writers turn out a halfway-decent effort and aren't the same people who turned out 'Matrix: Revolutions'. And also, this wasn't as bad as many of the other movies I've dragged my friends to, so I can still be redeemed!
[end spoilers]
I spent the rest of the day doing some desultory unpacking, with a trip to Target to get a trashcan for my kitchen and some necessary hardware to hang some shelves. Tomorrow, I have more errands to run, and then I need to get rid of all of the boxes that have accumulated in my apartment--this means either recycling them here, or dumping them clandestinely on Stanford campus or at my place of employment. It's been lovely having a three-day weekend--this was my first weekend in my apartment in a month, and I desperately needed it. Now, it's time for bed--hopefully I'll wake up at a decent hour tomorrow so I can accomplish something, but don't hold your breath.
[warning: spoilers follow, for those of you who haven't seen it--which, judging by the box office numbers, probably only includes my parents ;) if you don't want to know, skip until the 'no spoilers' section below]
The writers and producers of this movie didn't seem to understand what made the first 'Pirates' movie so successful. No one cared about the plot, or even about all the explosions--what made the movie special was the interaction between the characters, the occasional moments of surprising character development, and the chance to see all of the main characters do exceptionally crafty things or plan ahead in clever ways. This movie attempted to create a plot to span two movies, and because so much of this movie was set-up for the third movie, the three main characters (Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth) went their separate ways for most of the movie--and none of them are as entertaining alone as they are with each other. There was far too much focus on how 'cool' the sea-creature special effects were, and about twenty minutes' too much usage of the Kraken. Surprisingly, I thought some of the best lines came from Commodore Norrington, who was really a one-dimensional bit part, but allowed to grow a beard for this particular outing.
But the worst was that none of the main characters developed in ways that made me love them, and two of the three of them did things that seemed uncomfortably out of character. Sparrow going valiantly to his doom with the Kraken would have seemed heroic and tragic if he hadn't spent most of the movie either absent or being an ass--for instance, it was never explained why it was necessary to send Will on a suicide mission, nor did he do anything to rectify the situation. And the whole thing with Elizabeth and Sparrow was just weird--granted, pirates are hotter than 'good guys', but in this particular movie, Will Turner seemed more clever than Sparrow, despite being held back by all his heroism and morals.
I guess the problem for me was that I felt some level of affection for the characters after the first movie, and this movie destroyed a lot of my good will towards them. I know I'm overreacting--but I would have the same reaction if they made a fourth 'Lord of the Rings' and Aragorn turned into an alcoholic. I'll still see the third one in hopes that they can redeem themselves--and I hope that the writers turn out a halfway-decent effort and aren't the same people who turned out 'Matrix: Revolutions'. And also, this wasn't as bad as many of the other movies I've dragged my friends to, so I can still be redeemed!
[end spoilers]
I spent the rest of the day doing some desultory unpacking, with a trip to Target to get a trashcan for my kitchen and some necessary hardware to hang some shelves. Tomorrow, I have more errands to run, and then I need to get rid of all of the boxes that have accumulated in my apartment--this means either recycling them here, or dumping them clandestinely on Stanford campus or at my place of employment. It's been lovely having a three-day weekend--this was my first weekend in my apartment in a month, and I desperately needed it. Now, it's time for bed--hopefully I'll wake up at a decent hour tomorrow so I can accomplish something, but don't hold your breath.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
peanut butter jelly time!
My kitchen cabinets are woefully understocked, as I discovered today while I cleaned and organized them. My canned goods amount to one can of chicken noodle soup and one can of slices olives, which is somewhat short of the week's worth of non-perishable food items suggested by all the 'survive the next big earthquake' checklists that I like to read and promptly ignore. There were also ten pairs of shoes strewn about my living room, but none next to my bed where I could slip into them in the case of broken glass. Granted, since my bed is under my window, the only broken glass will already be in my bed, which is a rather horrifying thought. My refrigerator contains around forty bottles of beer and alcopops, as well as several containers of random condiments and some milk that is on the verge of expiring. I have most of a loaf of bread that I bought before I went to Seattle, but thanks to the miracles of ultra-processing, Safeway bread lasts for several months and could probably be considered one of those non-perishable food items that I should be stocking up on. It's no wonder I've been eating out to much--my 'home-cooked meals' are currently limited to Easy Mac, oatmeal, granola bars, bread with some random condiment, or a cup of tea. Ew.
So, I found myself craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight, and luckily I live within walking distance of Safeway, so I ran over to get the necessary ingredients. I came back with more than I had intended--yogurt, cottage cheese, milk (yes, I'm inviting lactose intolerance, but I seem fine with all of those delectable foods), apples, salad greens, dressing, and ice cream. I'm still far from being able to whip up a pleasing meal, but it's a start; I should do more staples-stocking this weekend, if I get around to making a list. The peanut butter (crunchy) and jelly (grape, in a squeezable plastic bottle) sandwich was the best thing I've had in awhile, and the cold, non-rotten milk was heavenly. It's funny that I enjoyed this more than the Spanish omelette that I had at a cafe for my 2pm 'breakfast' (you can tell I took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in!)--but I was annoyed that I paid $10 for an omelette and a diet coke when I could have made the same thing for a fraction of the price. Or, gone back to India and had four or five lackeys make me the same thing for a fraction of the price. Either way, there are times when I'm fine paying $10 for breakfast because I live in California and everything is expensive here and I really didn't feel like cooking anyway; there are other times when $10 seems like highway robbery. Today was a highway robbery day, so maybe that will encourage me to cook more in the future.
Despite my rather late start, I managed to thoroughly clean my kitchen, do the dishes, and reorganize the refrigerator and my cabinets. I also unpacked a couple of the boxes still in the living room. However, I had made the mistake of browsing at Walgreens while waiting for some prescriptions to be filled, which led to the even bigger mistake of buying a romance novel. It was 'Match Me If You Can', Susan Elizabeth Phillips' latest effort, which has just come out in paperback. Her storylines are becoming a bit formulaic (granted, this is to be expected of romance novels)--but all of her stories are rather similar, particularly the ones in the series she has going about the fictional Chicago Stars football team. In a nutshell, a brainy, adorably-insane girl falls in love with a drop-dead gorgeous athlete with a surprisingly-large brain to match his killer instincts. Basically, it's like porn for women--while porn for men is dominated by hot chicks and average-looking guys, these novels contain absurdly-handsome men and women who sound like they might actually be real women (even though they aren't). Unlike porn for men, however, there is much more plot and much less sex. And, while Phillips' storylines are all the same, her dialogue is always snappy and amusing, so her plots can be forgiven. Of course, despite all my good intentions to put my house in order, I threw in the towel around seven, and read the book straight through (with that one break to buy peanut butter and jelly). Now, I should consider going to bed, since I do want to accomplish things tomorrow. Goodnight!
So, I found myself craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight, and luckily I live within walking distance of Safeway, so I ran over to get the necessary ingredients. I came back with more than I had intended--yogurt, cottage cheese, milk (yes, I'm inviting lactose intolerance, but I seem fine with all of those delectable foods), apples, salad greens, dressing, and ice cream. I'm still far from being able to whip up a pleasing meal, but it's a start; I should do more staples-stocking this weekend, if I get around to making a list. The peanut butter (crunchy) and jelly (grape, in a squeezable plastic bottle) sandwich was the best thing I've had in awhile, and the cold, non-rotten milk was heavenly. It's funny that I enjoyed this more than the Spanish omelette that I had at a cafe for my 2pm 'breakfast' (you can tell I took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in!)--but I was annoyed that I paid $10 for an omelette and a diet coke when I could have made the same thing for a fraction of the price. Or, gone back to India and had four or five lackeys make me the same thing for a fraction of the price. Either way, there are times when I'm fine paying $10 for breakfast because I live in California and everything is expensive here and I really didn't feel like cooking anyway; there are other times when $10 seems like highway robbery. Today was a highway robbery day, so maybe that will encourage me to cook more in the future.
Despite my rather late start, I managed to thoroughly clean my kitchen, do the dishes, and reorganize the refrigerator and my cabinets. I also unpacked a couple of the boxes still in the living room. However, I had made the mistake of browsing at Walgreens while waiting for some prescriptions to be filled, which led to the even bigger mistake of buying a romance novel. It was 'Match Me If You Can', Susan Elizabeth Phillips' latest effort, which has just come out in paperback. Her storylines are becoming a bit formulaic (granted, this is to be expected of romance novels)--but all of her stories are rather similar, particularly the ones in the series she has going about the fictional Chicago Stars football team. In a nutshell, a brainy, adorably-insane girl falls in love with a drop-dead gorgeous athlete with a surprisingly-large brain to match his killer instincts. Basically, it's like porn for women--while porn for men is dominated by hot chicks and average-looking guys, these novels contain absurdly-handsome men and women who sound like they might actually be real women (even though they aren't). Unlike porn for men, however, there is much more plot and much less sex. And, while Phillips' storylines are all the same, her dialogue is always snappy and amusing, so her plots can be forgiven. Of course, despite all my good intentions to put my house in order, I threw in the towel around seven, and read the book straight through (with that one break to buy peanut butter and jelly). Now, I should consider going to bed, since I do want to accomplish things tomorrow. Goodnight!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say
I ran a fool's errand today; I took a painting that I bought in South Africa to an art store for framing, and spent somewhere between 10 and 20 times the original cost of the painting on stretching and framing. The painting is 19" by 45", and framing ain't cheap, especially for an odd size that has to be custom-stretched and framed--I had an internal debate about whether it was worth framing, but I do really love it, and it will look quite striking in my living room, and it's something that I will have forever (and with me, that's no idle threat, since I tend to keep everything). So, in approximately one month, I will have a glorious red painting to grace my walls. Hopefully by then I will also have a TV and some semblance of order in my life, but who knows.
In other news, I trimmed my toenails, and all is well with the universe.
Another errand I ran today was to stop by this Japanese stationery store in Palo Alto. They had a lot of absurdly cute stuff, but I refrained; I did buy a card for someone because I couldn't resist it. I also bought these amazing little miniature disposable fountain pens; $4.95 each, and probably 3.5" long. I got one in pink and one in green, and they look deliciously tacky next to my more-sophisticated, real fountain pens. That store could drain serious funds from my bank account, and so I'm not allowed to go back there anytime in the near future--especially since I'm contemplating a trip to the Crate and Barrel outlet in the East Bay this weekend. I wonder if you can take methadone to get over an accessory addiction? Or am I destined to end up homeless, destitute, pushing my blankets and tattered clothes around in a lovely rolling entertainment cart with some pink-sorbet pillar candles to light the lonely nights?
After buying pens and getting my artwork framed, I had an impromptu dinner with Adit, and an even more impromptu dinner with Sri (who called Adit right after we ordered, and ended up coming to the restaurant and eating our leftovers). Adit told me the reason for the closure of my favorite Thai restaurant in Mountain View - the place that Walter's family went for his college graduation had a major fire on the same terrace where we enjoyed our curries, and the restaurant is closed until further notice. So, we ate at Amarin instead, where we went for the 'spicy' dishes in a successful attempt to burn out the lining of my mouth. Yay. Then, Sri and I took Adit to the airport, and I came home to wrap up some work and write this blog post.
Finally, you'll be happy to know that I don't have tuberculosis; the doctor prescribed some stuff to get my allergies under control, but was not too concerned. They should be under control just in time for me to go back to Iowa and catch the end of hay-fever season--lucky me! Now, it's time for bed.
In other news, I trimmed my toenails, and all is well with the universe.
Another errand I ran today was to stop by this Japanese stationery store in Palo Alto. They had a lot of absurdly cute stuff, but I refrained; I did buy a card for someone because I couldn't resist it. I also bought these amazing little miniature disposable fountain pens; $4.95 each, and probably 3.5" long. I got one in pink and one in green, and they look deliciously tacky next to my more-sophisticated, real fountain pens. That store could drain serious funds from my bank account, and so I'm not allowed to go back there anytime in the near future--especially since I'm contemplating a trip to the Crate and Barrel outlet in the East Bay this weekend. I wonder if you can take methadone to get over an accessory addiction? Or am I destined to end up homeless, destitute, pushing my blankets and tattered clothes around in a lovely rolling entertainment cart with some pink-sorbet pillar candles to light the lonely nights?
After buying pens and getting my artwork framed, I had an impromptu dinner with Adit, and an even more impromptu dinner with Sri (who called Adit right after we ordered, and ended up coming to the restaurant and eating our leftovers). Adit told me the reason for the closure of my favorite Thai restaurant in Mountain View - the place that Walter's family went for his college graduation had a major fire on the same terrace where we enjoyed our curries, and the restaurant is closed until further notice. So, we ate at Amarin instead, where we went for the 'spicy' dishes in a successful attempt to burn out the lining of my mouth. Yay. Then, Sri and I took Adit to the airport, and I came home to wrap up some work and write this blog post.
Finally, you'll be happy to know that I don't have tuberculosis; the doctor prescribed some stuff to get my allergies under control, but was not too concerned. They should be under control just in time for me to go back to Iowa and catch the end of hay-fever season--lucky me! Now, it's time for bed.
warlocks in wonderland
I'm having trouble focusing tonight because I'm unnaturally obsessed with my toenails. They're not unattractively long, but they're longer than I like them to be, and everything is so disorganized that I can't find any clippers (even though I know I have at least three pairs), and so I'm forced to endure my toenails until I either a) clean or b) more likely, snap and buy another pair of clippers. It's the little toes that bother me--my toes are so small that the toenails are also miniscule, which means that it doesn't take very long at all for the pinky toenails to grow to the point that the grown-out part is equal in size to the still-attached-to-nailbed part, and that's when they start to drive me mad.
But enough about that. I just made an appointment for tomorrow with one of the company doctors to check out my lingering sore throat and cough; granted, this happens every summer around this time, and it will eventually go away on its own, but I'd like to speed the process up since I just feel kind of icky as a result. Hopefully I can actually be squeezed in tomorrow, or else it's probably another weekend of hacking up my lungs in a most unladylike manner.
I have nothing of interest to report, so I'm going to bed. Two more days of work, and then a three-day weekend! Yay!
But enough about that. I just made an appointment for tomorrow with one of the company doctors to check out my lingering sore throat and cough; granted, this happens every summer around this time, and it will eventually go away on its own, but I'd like to speed the process up since I just feel kind of icky as a result. Hopefully I can actually be squeezed in tomorrow, or else it's probably another weekend of hacking up my lungs in a most unladylike manner.
I have nothing of interest to report, so I'm going to bed. Two more days of work, and then a three-day weekend! Yay!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
there's always a siren singing you to shipwreck
I got to work for an eight a.m. conference call, only to discover that the other participant had cancelled it after I woke up (and checked my mail with the desperate hope that it had been cancelled while I slept) but before I got to the office. I hate when that happens! However, I was able to get breakfast as a result--scrambled eggs, spicy roasted potatoes, and zucchini bread did much to restore my spirits. I worked all day, except for a brief lunch hiatus with Alaska Matt, and then came home with the intention of putting my room completely in order. It didn't quite happen, but I did do some laundry and organize my closet, so progress was achieved.
In other news, I saw a catalogue for Stanford Continuing Studies in the cafe near the laundromat, and I rushed home to sign up for a fiction-writing class this fall. I wanted to take the novel class, but it was already full, so I signed up for the short-story class instead. It meets every Thursday evening, conveniently beginning right after Katie's wedding and conveniently ending right before Christmas. Hopefully this will trigger a burst of creativity on my part, and induce me to finish my romance novel; if nothing else, it will provide me with a library card so that I can take naps in Green Library again and relive the days of my lost youth.
The funny thing is that I complain that I never have time to finish my novel because I'm so busy with work--but the fact that I'm so busy with work is what has enabled me to be able to afford a slightly-overpriced $500 continuing studies class. I had wanted to take continuing studies classes when I first graduated, but my entry-level salary was just enough to cover rent, car payments, trips home, and endless stops at Pizza My Heart with Walter; continuing studies had to fall by the wayside, even though I had plenty of free time and a bona-fide 9-6 job. Now, I have the money for continuing studies, but no time, since my job is more like 7-7 and I require at least eight hours of sleep. Anyway, I'm happy that I signed up--I decided to just do it without thinking about it and psyching myself out. Now, I can use the professional opinion of a Stegner Fellow (=prestigious writing fellowship at Stanford) to discover whether I actually have any talent at putting imaginative stories on paper, or if my talents are limited to recounting the admittedly-crazy things that happen to me with near-constant frequency.
Classes don't start for a month, however, which leaves me plenty of time to slack off. I'm going to begin now by going to bed!
In other news, I saw a catalogue for Stanford Continuing Studies in the cafe near the laundromat, and I rushed home to sign up for a fiction-writing class this fall. I wanted to take the novel class, but it was already full, so I signed up for the short-story class instead. It meets every Thursday evening, conveniently beginning right after Katie's wedding and conveniently ending right before Christmas. Hopefully this will trigger a burst of creativity on my part, and induce me to finish my romance novel; if nothing else, it will provide me with a library card so that I can take naps in Green Library again and relive the days of my lost youth.
The funny thing is that I complain that I never have time to finish my novel because I'm so busy with work--but the fact that I'm so busy with work is what has enabled me to be able to afford a slightly-overpriced $500 continuing studies class. I had wanted to take continuing studies classes when I first graduated, but my entry-level salary was just enough to cover rent, car payments, trips home, and endless stops at Pizza My Heart with Walter; continuing studies had to fall by the wayside, even though I had plenty of free time and a bona-fide 9-6 job. Now, I have the money for continuing studies, but no time, since my job is more like 7-7 and I require at least eight hours of sleep. Anyway, I'm happy that I signed up--I decided to just do it without thinking about it and psyching myself out. Now, I can use the professional opinion of a Stegner Fellow (=prestigious writing fellowship at Stanford) to discover whether I actually have any talent at putting imaginative stories on paper, or if my talents are limited to recounting the admittedly-crazy things that happen to me with near-constant frequency.
Classes don't start for a month, however, which leaves me plenty of time to slack off. I'm going to begin now by going to bed!
Monday, August 28, 2006
makin' noise for the boys in the vatican
To anonymous commenter #3 on my previous post, who suggested that I should 'get over [my]self already', I appreciate the advice. I doubt that I will ever get over myself entirely, because I'm waaaaay too analytical, and I subject myself to the same intense scrutiny that I apply to all problems, whether they are spreadsheets, relationships, or things on my always-endless to-do lists. However, I think that I have gotten over myself to some extent, or at least demonstrated some small measure of 'personal growth'. I no longer obsess over whether men can fall in love with women who are as witty as they are, or whether I will ever be 'normal', or who my friends are, or why I don't trust most people, or many of the myriad issues that I've obsessed over in the past. Frankly, I've stopped caring what most people think of me. I'm still obsessing over other things, like what to do with my life, whether my phobia towards commitment is healthy or concerning, and why I have these occasional (usually contained) impulses to chop off my hair or wreak havoc with my stable friendships or run away to other countries. Anyway, these issues aren't going to go away anytime soon, but I will attempt to get over them--and until that happens, you're just going to have to put up with me.
Anyway, I was in Seattle this weekend for Jasmine and Michael B's wedding. Question: does that mean I should start calling Jasmine 'Jasmine B.'? Answer: I don't think so, since she's not taking his name, but that would still amuse me. The trip was fantastic, although I'm exhausted and still sick. I think the illness might have actually been allergies, since the island was covered in weeds and my cold got excruciatingly worse over the weekend, to the point that I lost my voice from coughing so much. I feel much, much better today, but that could also be from the 10 hours of sleep I got last night.
But enough about my health. I got into Seattle Thursday night and promptly went to Jasmine and Michael's apartment, where I hung out with some of our mutual friends until ~one a.m. I left for Orcas Island early the next morning with two of the other bridesmaids, whom I didn't know before but whom I now like quite a bit. The trip to the island was something of an ordeal--an hour and a half drive from Seattle to the ferry, an hour and a half wait for the ferry (you have to show up early to get a spot), an hour-ish ferry ride, and then another twenty-minute drive to the hotel. We got there in time to grab a late lunch and try on the bridesmaids dresses (mine fit perfectly except for a slight adjustment to the shoulder straps), and then we rehearsed the wedding. The rehearsal dinner involved a quick and mostly-futile attempt to teach the wedding party how to dance so that we could dance at the reception; I was too rusty on the swing steps I learned at TASP to do very well, and it was clear that my rock-step could use some work [the rock-step is the third part of the standard swing pattern]. Despite my lack of coordination, Shedletsky and I pioneered the rock-paper-scissors-step; this graceful move involves doing a couple of rounds of standard rock-stepping, then breaking apart in what would normally lead to the woman being spun--but instead of spinning, each person throws rock, paper, or scissors with their free hand. You go back together and swing out three times to achieve the classic best-of-three game; the winner gets to spin the loser on the next set of steps. Great, huh?
There was a bonfire that night, which didn't help my lung issues at all, and I went to bed at midnight and slept until eleven. I spent the rest of the morning/early afternoon with Jasmine and the bridesmaids, getting our hair done and helping each other into our dresses. The wedding was around four p.m. in this grassy area overlooking the ocean; the setting was gorgeous, the ceremony was the perfect combination of casual and classy, and everything went very well. The reception and dinner were lovely and delicious respectively, the dancing went surprisingly smoothly given how few of us actually knew how to dance, and the whole day was great. After the reception ended, I went back to the house that some of my friends rented and played mafia until two a.m. I hadn't played mafia in ages, but it was fun. Of course, what wasn't fun was that I only got three hours of sleep as a result, since I had to wake up at 6:30 to go back to the house, pick up Doug, Can, Sean, and Henry, and go to the ferry for the trip home. This lack of sleep caused several disasters: 1) I left my wallet in the restroom of a truck stop (thanks to the miracle of Google Maps and the fact that I remembered that the truck stop was off the same exit as a casino, I was able to use the satellite feature to recognize the right truck stop; I called and they had the wallet, so Jasmine picked it up for me on the way back later that day, and I discovered that everything was intact!); 2) I forgot to fill up the rental car with gas before returning it, thus having to pay their extortionate $7-per-gallon refill fee, resulting in an $89 charge; and 3) I just realized that I didn't grab a skirt out of the closet of my hotel room, and it's probably gone forever. Sigh. I usually am not that scatterbrained, so yesterday was rather frustrating.
Despite the frustration, yesterday was still nice; we got back to Seattle in time to have lunch with Dan Y. and John W., who lived in Loro with us my senior year. Dan regaled us with stories of escaping terrorists in Peru, and it was great to see both of them. Then, Doug navigated us to a hill overlooking downtown Seattle with a great view of the space needle, and we whiled away some time there before I left for the airport. I liked what I saw of Seattle, so hopefully I'll get to go back someday. And, Orcas Island was gorgeous--perfect for a wedding, and I could have easily spent a couple more days there.
Now I'm back in California, and I'll be here for almost a month--yay for stability!
Anyway, I was in Seattle this weekend for Jasmine and Michael B's wedding. Question: does that mean I should start calling Jasmine 'Jasmine B.'? Answer: I don't think so, since she's not taking his name, but that would still amuse me. The trip was fantastic, although I'm exhausted and still sick. I think the illness might have actually been allergies, since the island was covered in weeds and my cold got excruciatingly worse over the weekend, to the point that I lost my voice from coughing so much. I feel much, much better today, but that could also be from the 10 hours of sleep I got last night.
But enough about my health. I got into Seattle Thursday night and promptly went to Jasmine and Michael's apartment, where I hung out with some of our mutual friends until ~one a.m. I left for Orcas Island early the next morning with two of the other bridesmaids, whom I didn't know before but whom I now like quite a bit. The trip to the island was something of an ordeal--an hour and a half drive from Seattle to the ferry, an hour and a half wait for the ferry (you have to show up early to get a spot), an hour-ish ferry ride, and then another twenty-minute drive to the hotel. We got there in time to grab a late lunch and try on the bridesmaids dresses (mine fit perfectly except for a slight adjustment to the shoulder straps), and then we rehearsed the wedding. The rehearsal dinner involved a quick and mostly-futile attempt to teach the wedding party how to dance so that we could dance at the reception; I was too rusty on the swing steps I learned at TASP to do very well, and it was clear that my rock-step could use some work [the rock-step is the third part of the standard swing pattern]. Despite my lack of coordination, Shedletsky and I pioneered the rock-paper-scissors-step; this graceful move involves doing a couple of rounds of standard rock-stepping, then breaking apart in what would normally lead to the woman being spun--but instead of spinning, each person throws rock, paper, or scissors with their free hand. You go back together and swing out three times to achieve the classic best-of-three game; the winner gets to spin the loser on the next set of steps. Great, huh?
There was a bonfire that night, which didn't help my lung issues at all, and I went to bed at midnight and slept until eleven. I spent the rest of the morning/early afternoon with Jasmine and the bridesmaids, getting our hair done and helping each other into our dresses. The wedding was around four p.m. in this grassy area overlooking the ocean; the setting was gorgeous, the ceremony was the perfect combination of casual and classy, and everything went very well. The reception and dinner were lovely and delicious respectively, the dancing went surprisingly smoothly given how few of us actually knew how to dance, and the whole day was great. After the reception ended, I went back to the house that some of my friends rented and played mafia until two a.m. I hadn't played mafia in ages, but it was fun. Of course, what wasn't fun was that I only got three hours of sleep as a result, since I had to wake up at 6:30 to go back to the house, pick up Doug, Can, Sean, and Henry, and go to the ferry for the trip home. This lack of sleep caused several disasters: 1) I left my wallet in the restroom of a truck stop (thanks to the miracle of Google Maps and the fact that I remembered that the truck stop was off the same exit as a casino, I was able to use the satellite feature to recognize the right truck stop; I called and they had the wallet, so Jasmine picked it up for me on the way back later that day, and I discovered that everything was intact!); 2) I forgot to fill up the rental car with gas before returning it, thus having to pay their extortionate $7-per-gallon refill fee, resulting in an $89 charge; and 3) I just realized that I didn't grab a skirt out of the closet of my hotel room, and it's probably gone forever. Sigh. I usually am not that scatterbrained, so yesterday was rather frustrating.
Despite the frustration, yesterday was still nice; we got back to Seattle in time to have lunch with Dan Y. and John W., who lived in Loro with us my senior year. Dan regaled us with stories of escaping terrorists in Peru, and it was great to see both of them. Then, Doug navigated us to a hill overlooking downtown Seattle with a great view of the space needle, and we whiled away some time there before I left for the airport. I liked what I saw of Seattle, so hopefully I'll get to go back someday. And, Orcas Island was gorgeous--perfect for a wedding, and I could have easily spent a couple more days there.
Now I'm back in California, and I'll be here for almost a month--yay for stability!
Thursday, August 24, 2006
darjeeling puttabong
So I bought this tea awhile ago ('darjeeling puttabong', as you might have guessed from the title); it was more expensive than the looseleaf Irish Breakfast tea that I got at the same time, and yet I like it much, much less. I like my tea almost like I like my Guinness--really dark, but with cream on top to cut the bitterness. Darjeeling puttabong is more of a light, almost floral tea, even after I let it steep for ten minutes. Meh. Oh, well, it gave me an excuse to use my awesome teapot, so I can't complain too much.
After that effortless display of tea snobbery (which, ironically, showed that my tastes are still plebian rather than refined), it's time to report that I have nothing to report--I did nothing today but work, sleep, and go underwear shopping in anticipation of wearing a dress on Saturday that I have never tried on or seen. I decided I should arm myself with a strapless bra just in case, and this of course resulted in a thorough replenishment of my lingerie stocks. Not that anyone will ever see what I bought, unless I'm in a tragic car accident that results in massive head trauma but relatively little damage below the neck, or unless I start outsourcing my laundry duties. On that slightly depressing note (compounded by the fact that I turn 25 in less than three weeks!), I'm off to bed.
After that effortless display of tea snobbery (which, ironically, showed that my tastes are still plebian rather than refined), it's time to report that I have nothing to report--I did nothing today but work, sleep, and go underwear shopping in anticipation of wearing a dress on Saturday that I have never tried on or seen. I decided I should arm myself with a strapless bra just in case, and this of course resulted in a thorough replenishment of my lingerie stocks. Not that anyone will ever see what I bought, unless I'm in a tragic car accident that results in massive head trauma but relatively little damage below the neck, or unless I start outsourcing my laundry duties. On that slightly depressing note (compounded by the fact that I turn 25 in less than three weeks!), I'm off to bed.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
this is the dawning of the rest of our lives
I have nothing to say. How sad is that?
Let me attempt to dredge something up. I had dinner tonight, quite impromptu-ly, with Terry. I should have stayed home and worked; I wasn't really able to sleep last night, and so I went into the office at 7:30 (a full hour earlier than necessary), which afforded me the opportunity to eat breakfast with Subz before the ubiquitous conference call. But, that threw me into a slow decay of energy, which bottomed out around 3:30 and forced me to come home and take a nap. The nap lasted two hours, rather than the thirty minutes I had intended to take, so hopefully I'm still able to sleep tonight, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Of course, holding my breath would ensure 'sleep', or at least its cousin asphyxiation, but I'd rather wake up sans brain damage. I came home from dinner and did the two hours' worth of work that I should have done at the office, and now it's time to go to bed so that I can get up for my seven a.m. conference call tomorrow.
What did I do to deserve so many early mornings? I'm perhaps the antithesis of a morning person--there are times when I feel that I would rather stab myself in the eye than get out of bed in the morning. In an effort to ensure that I don't do that tomorrow morning, thus protecting my precious eyesight for one more day, I should probably go to sleep. Goodnight!
Let me attempt to dredge something up. I had dinner tonight, quite impromptu-ly, with Terry. I should have stayed home and worked; I wasn't really able to sleep last night, and so I went into the office at 7:30 (a full hour earlier than necessary), which afforded me the opportunity to eat breakfast with Subz before the ubiquitous conference call. But, that threw me into a slow decay of energy, which bottomed out around 3:30 and forced me to come home and take a nap. The nap lasted two hours, rather than the thirty minutes I had intended to take, so hopefully I'm still able to sleep tonight, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Of course, holding my breath would ensure 'sleep', or at least its cousin asphyxiation, but I'd rather wake up sans brain damage. I came home from dinner and did the two hours' worth of work that I should have done at the office, and now it's time to go to bed so that I can get up for my seven a.m. conference call tomorrow.
What did I do to deserve so many early mornings? I'm perhaps the antithesis of a morning person--there are times when I feel that I would rather stab myself in the eye than get out of bed in the morning. In an effort to ensure that I don't do that tomorrow morning, thus protecting my precious eyesight for one more day, I should probably go to sleep. Goodnight!
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
and if i said it a hundred times before--expect a thousand more
So I stayed home sick from work today, because I picked up a nasty cold that unfortunately is not the bubonic plague. I get so tired of just having a sore throat and a runny nose, rather than buboes. Sigh.
Staying home was a good idea in some respects; I may work 12 hours a day in normal circumstances, but my sole concession to work/life balance is not working in the office when I'm miserably ill. In other respects, it wasn't good at all, since I ended up sleeping from noon to four--it definitely made me feel better, but had no positive impact on my jetlag. Between all that sleep and all of the sweet tea I've imbibed to soothe my throat, I'm wide awake and surprisingly punchy. That feeling will probably not last through my 6:30am alarm, so I should consider going to bed. I hate going to bed, though--that's why I should be a novelist. I would thrive in my own little world, where the day would start at noon and last until I fall asleep over my keyboard, where I could periodically take naps in my gorgeously-arrayed bed or a gently-swaying hammock, where I could subsist on strawberry shortcake, oatmeal, steak, and Diet Coke (okay, perhaps 'thrive' isn't the best word). Instead, I need to get up at 6:30 so that I can make it to the office by eight for several hours of meetings and conference calls. Oh, joy. Wish me luck!
Staying home was a good idea in some respects; I may work 12 hours a day in normal circumstances, but my sole concession to work/life balance is not working in the office when I'm miserably ill. In other respects, it wasn't good at all, since I ended up sleeping from noon to four--it definitely made me feel better, but had no positive impact on my jetlag. Between all that sleep and all of the sweet tea I've imbibed to soothe my throat, I'm wide awake and surprisingly punchy. That feeling will probably not last through my 6:30am alarm, so I should consider going to bed. I hate going to bed, though--that's why I should be a novelist. I would thrive in my own little world, where the day would start at noon and last until I fall asleep over my keyboard, where I could periodically take naps in my gorgeously-arrayed bed or a gently-swaying hammock, where I could subsist on strawberry shortcake, oatmeal, steak, and Diet Coke (okay, perhaps 'thrive' isn't the best word). Instead, I need to get up at 6:30 so that I can make it to the office by eight for several hours of meetings and conference calls. Oh, joy. Wish me luck!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
wish upon a star, but do you know what stars are?
I feel like I've been up forever--perhaps because I have been. My August 19 just ended, only 36.5 hours after it started in Hyderabad. It started v. surreally, too--Darragh, Kim and I went clubbing with the other expats before leaving for the airport. The club was called 'Ahala' (which I prefer to call 'Holla', as though it's alluding to SoCal-rap-speak), which has replaced a club that I went to in one of the Taj hotels in Hyderabad last year. Happily I only had one drink, which was key since they charge 750 rupees (~$16) for a single screwdriver. That sounds like the same extortionate prices that the government occasionally pays for screwdrivers, although the government's screwdrivers contain less Absolut and more metal.
Anyway, the ridiculous prices weren't surreal (although they should have been, given that that's more than I've paid for four-course dinner extravaganzas in India)--but it was surreal when photographers for the society pages in one of the local newspapers showed up and started snapping pics of us dancing. It quickly went from amusing to creepy as more photographers kept showing up, including a couple of videographers who seemed to be filming some sort of conservative Indian version of 'Foreign Girls Gone Wild' (conservative because we were all modestly attired, wild because they liked filming up and down from head to toe, v. slowly, in a way that didn't seem to be destined for the evening news). It will be interesting to see if these pics show up in a bona fide newspaper, or if one of my friends someday will recognize me on an illicit Indian porn site.
Being in India was great, but the trip home was brutal and I'm suffering from some crushing exhaustion. I managed to avoid falling asleep after getting back to California this afternoon, although it was a close call; I hit upon the brilliant idea of staying up by rereading one of my favorite romance novels ('Ain't She Sweet' by Susan Elizabeth Phillips), which worked like a charm since I couldn't put it down and so stayed up until almost midnight with it. Tomorrow, though, I need to get up and accomplish something with my day--my apartment is messy and I want it to transform from an ugly duckling to a beautiful swan. So, I shall take myself off to bed, and perhaps tomorrow I'll have energy to accomplish something (hahahaha, I'm so optimistic).
Anyway, the ridiculous prices weren't surreal (although they should have been, given that that's more than I've paid for four-course dinner extravaganzas in India)--but it was surreal when photographers for the society pages in one of the local newspapers showed up and started snapping pics of us dancing. It quickly went from amusing to creepy as more photographers kept showing up, including a couple of videographers who seemed to be filming some sort of conservative Indian version of 'Foreign Girls Gone Wild' (conservative because we were all modestly attired, wild because they liked filming up and down from head to toe, v. slowly, in a way that didn't seem to be destined for the evening news). It will be interesting to see if these pics show up in a bona fide newspaper, or if one of my friends someday will recognize me on an illicit Indian porn site.
Being in India was great, but the trip home was brutal and I'm suffering from some crushing exhaustion. I managed to avoid falling asleep after getting back to California this afternoon, although it was a close call; I hit upon the brilliant idea of staying up by rereading one of my favorite romance novels ('Ain't She Sweet' by Susan Elizabeth Phillips), which worked like a charm since I couldn't put it down and so stayed up until almost midnight with it. Tomorrow, though, I need to get up and accomplish something with my day--my apartment is messy and I want it to transform from an ugly duckling to a beautiful swan. So, I shall take myself off to bed, and perhaps tomorrow I'll have energy to accomplish something (hahahaha, I'm so optimistic).
Thursday, August 17, 2006
when you find me there you'll search no more
I can suddenly barely keep my eyes open, which is unfortunate since I have all this stuff that I want to do for work and don't have time to take care of. Alas. Anyway, today was good; I managed to sleep well last night, and then spent a whole day at the office thinking (painful!). I left around 7pm and brought Jogi back to my hotel for dinner, which was v. nice. We were later joined by Salim and Heather (and Darragh, after Jogi left), and so I had a great, relaxed, entertaining few hours in the hotel restaurant. Now, I should really go to bed--I have to be on my way to the airport in 24 hours!
It's strange the directions that life takes you; when I was growing up, I never dreamed that I would live in India (except when I was reading 'The Secret Garden' and wanted to have an ayah/nanny and parents who died of typhoid or some other crazy disease), let alone live in India long enough that I would feel jaded when I returned. While other people went shopping tonight, I had no desire to go--my house is already full of as many Indian textiles and mementos as I can keep, and my drawers are going to overflow if I don't get control of my spending habits. I've also fully (almost, rather) quelled my 'I'm gonna die' adrenaline reaction to riding in cars with the drivers here, which I think is a big accomplishment. However, I am going to die if I don't get some sleep--goodnight everyone!
It's strange the directions that life takes you; when I was growing up, I never dreamed that I would live in India (except when I was reading 'The Secret Garden' and wanted to have an ayah/nanny and parents who died of typhoid or some other crazy disease), let alone live in India long enough that I would feel jaded when I returned. While other people went shopping tonight, I had no desire to go--my house is already full of as many Indian textiles and mementos as I can keep, and my drawers are going to overflow if I don't get control of my spending habits. I've also fully (almost, rather) quelled my 'I'm gonna die' adrenaline reaction to riding in cars with the drivers here, which I think is a big accomplishment. However, I am going to die if I don't get some sleep--goodnight everyone!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
exhaustion
I am beyond exhausted, and it's all my fault; since I was 'recovering' (aka hungover) yesterday, I slept until eleven, and then took a nap in the afternoon. This meant that when I went to bed a little after eleven p.m., I was only able to sleep until three a.m. At that point, I awoke and laid in bed, tossing and turning fitfully without falling asleep again. Sadness! This made me an extremely surly participant of the summit today, and a v. tired attendee at the dinner tonight.
However, dinner was delicious--it was Indian Chinese, which is like Chinese food but spicier. We went to Waterfront, which was where my going-away dinner was last fall, so that brought back bittersweet memories. Now, it's ten p.m. and there's work that I should do, but I'm too wiped out.
Two more days and I'll be getting on a plane!!
However, dinner was delicious--it was Indian Chinese, which is like Chinese food but spicier. We went to Waterfront, which was where my going-away dinner was last fall, so that brought back bittersweet memories. Now, it's ten p.m. and there's work that I should do, but I'm too wiped out.
Two more days and I'll be getting on a plane!!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
today is our independence day
If an alien spaceship showed up at the Novotel in Hyderabad, I'm curious to see if the security guards could get it to stop long enough to sweep under it for bombs. They take this duty v. seriously; I went into the hotel complex Sunday approximately five times with the same driver, and they checked under the car every single time. You would think that it would be clear that a car full of five people wouldn't be a suicide-bomber car; it's not like suicide bombers are so easy to come by that groups send several in the same car. Of course, that would help to increase the death toll from such a bomb, but it wouldn't do much for recruitment.
Anyway, today was India's independence day, and I spent it recovering from a thoroughly-Western night of drinking and general debauchery. Monday was the first day of the conference I'm here for, and by the end of it I was thoroughly exhausted--I took a ten-minute power nap between getting back to the hotel after work and leaving for dinner at Angeethi (home of the delicious murgh makhni and garlic naan about which I waxed so enthusiastically last year), but it wasn't exactly long enough to revive me. Murgh went a long ways toward ensuring my healthy, which I then promptly destroyed by coercing three other people into playing Circle of Death with me. We'd been pretty good up until that point; leisurely chatting, followed by a nice Salim-produced fireworks display. Salim loves to buy the string of 10,000 firecrackers, which lasts a long time; he also bought mortars to set off a bunch of nice aerial fireworks. But, Circle of Death was the beginning of the end. The four of us drank enough to become completely giddy and hysterical, which meant that we had tons of fun last night and all felt v. sick this morning. Salim said it would have been quicker and easier if he had just let us take turns hitting him in the head with a baseball bat, but where would the fun be in that?
So anyway, I spent the night at Regina's, then came back here with her around noon and had a nice lunch at the hotel. I didn't do anything the rest of the day, and now I'm ready for bed.
I only have three days left of this whirlwind trip--crazy! Now, it's time to see whether my jetlag will let me sleep through the night; goodnight, everyone!
Anyway, today was India's independence day, and I spent it recovering from a thoroughly-Western night of drinking and general debauchery. Monday was the first day of the conference I'm here for, and by the end of it I was thoroughly exhausted--I took a ten-minute power nap between getting back to the hotel after work and leaving for dinner at Angeethi (home of the delicious murgh makhni and garlic naan about which I waxed so enthusiastically last year), but it wasn't exactly long enough to revive me. Murgh went a long ways toward ensuring my healthy, which I then promptly destroyed by coercing three other people into playing Circle of Death with me. We'd been pretty good up until that point; leisurely chatting, followed by a nice Salim-produced fireworks display. Salim loves to buy the string of 10,000 firecrackers, which lasts a long time; he also bought mortars to set off a bunch of nice aerial fireworks. But, Circle of Death was the beginning of the end. The four of us drank enough to become completely giddy and hysterical, which meant that we had tons of fun last night and all felt v. sick this morning. Salim said it would have been quicker and easier if he had just let us take turns hitting him in the head with a baseball bat, but where would the fun be in that?
So anyway, I spent the night at Regina's, then came back here with her around noon and had a nice lunch at the hotel. I didn't do anything the rest of the day, and now I'm ready for bed.
I only have three days left of this whirlwind trip--crazy! Now, it's time to see whether my jetlag will let me sleep through the night; goodnight, everyone!
Sunday, August 13, 2006
one way ticket
I woke up this morning to the sound of a hotel staffmember knocking on my door at 9am. He v. thoughtfully decided to hand-deliver my newspaper; apparently, the little bag with the handles on it is meant to be carried to one's room and delivered immediately, rather than hung from the door to await one's attention. There is no placard that says 'Do Not Disturb'; there is a little light outside that is supposed to signify one's desire to be left alone, but I can't find the switch to activate it. Therefore, I am destined to be awoken every morning by a man delivering a paper that I have no intention of reading. Welcome to India, indeed!
Anyway, despite that inauspicious opening, today was brilliant. I went to brunch at the Taj Krishna, which is one of my traditional haunts of old; most of the expats still go there every Sunday, and so I had my usual croissant with salmon, followed by a barbecued chicken pizza, followed by an order of fries that never ever comes, followed by a cup of black tea. Mmm. I had a fabulous time seeing Roy, Leigh Anne, John, Holly, Heather, Salim, Regina, Brian, and the other expats who have arrived more recently. Then, those of us who are here for the week went to Charminar to buy bangles--which is one Indian commodity that I don't need any more of, given the boxes upon boxes of bangles currently inhabiting my living room. I limited myself to one set of four, and focused the rest of my energies on attempting to cross the street without being run over by autorickshaws, cars, buses, motorbikes, regular bikes (always seemingly consisting of more rust than metal), or even a donkey-drawn cart. The area around Charminar is considered the old city, and it is a madness-inducing swirl of people, vehicles, dirt, animals, amazing Technicolor saris, bangles, turbans, and other fantastic products. There are people *everywhere*, mostly staring at the unexpected white people in their midst, unless they are actively trying to run over said white people. Actually, no one seems desirous of running people over; instead, they just don't care if people are crossing the street. This makes navigating the Charminar area v. difficult. The Charminar itself is a Muslim monument in the center of a roundabout, while the only parking area is off one side of the roundabout and the bangle street is off the oppposite side. Therefore, to get to the bangles, one has to navigate the unintelligble traffic patterns of an Indian roundabout, with the disadvantage of not having any wheels or horns. I highly recommend it, and it probably explains why I ended up with so many bangles--the adrenaline rush from surviving the street crossing leads to a lust for life that bangles are strangely suited for.
Anyway, afterwards Darragh and I split off from the group and went to this lovely handicrafts place, where we each bought gorgeous rugs (yay for consumerism). We came back to the hotel, worked on the presentation that we're giving tomorrow, and then I went over to Salim and Heather's. We ended up going out for dinner at this place called Little Italy, which opened after I left; it serves Italian and Mexican food, which I found to be an odd combination. The Italian food was excellent, and I love Heather and Salim, so I had a great night.
Now, I'm going to go to bed--surprisingly, I'm doing really well with the jet lag, considering I made it through the entire day without taking a nap or relaxing much at all. Hopefully it doesn't hit me tomorrow, but only time will tell. Goodnight!
Anyway, despite that inauspicious opening, today was brilliant. I went to brunch at the Taj Krishna, which is one of my traditional haunts of old; most of the expats still go there every Sunday, and so I had my usual croissant with salmon, followed by a barbecued chicken pizza, followed by an order of fries that never ever comes, followed by a cup of black tea. Mmm. I had a fabulous time seeing Roy, Leigh Anne, John, Holly, Heather, Salim, Regina, Brian, and the other expats who have arrived more recently. Then, those of us who are here for the week went to Charminar to buy bangles--which is one Indian commodity that I don't need any more of, given the boxes upon boxes of bangles currently inhabiting my living room. I limited myself to one set of four, and focused the rest of my energies on attempting to cross the street without being run over by autorickshaws, cars, buses, motorbikes, regular bikes (always seemingly consisting of more rust than metal), or even a donkey-drawn cart. The area around Charminar is considered the old city, and it is a madness-inducing swirl of people, vehicles, dirt, animals, amazing Technicolor saris, bangles, turbans, and other fantastic products. There are people *everywhere*, mostly staring at the unexpected white people in their midst, unless they are actively trying to run over said white people. Actually, no one seems desirous of running people over; instead, they just don't care if people are crossing the street. This makes navigating the Charminar area v. difficult. The Charminar itself is a Muslim monument in the center of a roundabout, while the only parking area is off one side of the roundabout and the bangle street is off the oppposite side. Therefore, to get to the bangles, one has to navigate the unintelligble traffic patterns of an Indian roundabout, with the disadvantage of not having any wheels or horns. I highly recommend it, and it probably explains why I ended up with so many bangles--the adrenaline rush from surviving the street crossing leads to a lust for life that bangles are strangely suited for.
Anyway, afterwards Darragh and I split off from the group and went to this lovely handicrafts place, where we each bought gorgeous rugs (yay for consumerism). We came back to the hotel, worked on the presentation that we're giving tomorrow, and then I went over to Salim and Heather's. We ended up going out for dinner at this place called Little Italy, which opened after I left; it serves Italian and Mexican food, which I found to be an odd combination. The Italian food was excellent, and I love Heather and Salim, so I had a great night.
Now, I'm going to go to bed--surprisingly, I'm doing really well with the jet lag, considering I made it through the entire day without taking a nap or relaxing much at all. Hopefully it doesn't hit me tomorrow, but only time will tell. Goodnight!
Saturday, August 12, 2006
dehydrated
I have arrived in India, and I have checked into a hotel that is so new that they apparently haven't turned the water on to my wing yet. So, even though it's 3:25am Sunday here, and I've been travelling for an unknown amount of time (actually, it is known, but I'm too tired to figure it out), I can't go to bed yet because the maintenance guys are coming back. Predictably, the maintenance guys consist of one guy who turns the tap on, and another guy who carries a walkie-talkie and supervises. I've really missed India!
Among other amusing things, I'm watching the news (on a nice flatscreen tv), and the Indian version of CNN was showing footage of security guards checking luggage at the airport. The best piece of footage involved four men standing around while one guard picked up a small duffel and tossed it five feet. I couldn't tell what they were checking for--if they were checking for bombs, they would have been blown up, and if they were checking for drugs, they wouldn't have found them without opening the bag. Perhaps they were stress-testing the seams on the bag? In any respect, I feel much safer than I have in ages.
The flight was uneventful, although I stink something terrible since I wasn't able to bring deoderant, toothpaste, perfume, etc. I was, however, able to bring Ambien, and we all bought these amazing neck pillows in the airport. I always scoffed at people who lugged around neck pillows before, since I thought they were for chumps--but, after the blissful sleep that I had on my SF-Frankfurt flight (aided by an Ambien, a face mask, and my noise-cancelling headphones), I'm fully converted to chumpdom.
My sleep on the airplane didn't start as early as I would have liked, since Lauren did my Q2 review on the plane--I'd been joking that it would happen all week, since it was due to happen on Thursday and we were both v. busy in the lead-up to our trip. But, the joking apparently put the idea in her head, and as usually happens with me, joking turned into destiny. So, after the fasten-seatbelt sign turned off, Lauren came back to my row (where I luckily had an extra seat beside me), and we spent an hour talking about my performance at work. It was actually quite productive--we had a good chat, and flight attendants periodically brought us drinks and refreshingly-moist washcloths. I think that my company should introduce the moist-towelette tradition in all reviews, as it was lovely! Happily, my review was great, since it would have been rather awkward to be stuck on a plane with my manager for 24 hours if the review had been difficult.
Okay, the water is now on, which means I can shower and go to bed. Goodnight everyone!
Among other amusing things, I'm watching the news (on a nice flatscreen tv), and the Indian version of CNN was showing footage of security guards checking luggage at the airport. The best piece of footage involved four men standing around while one guard picked up a small duffel and tossed it five feet. I couldn't tell what they were checking for--if they were checking for bombs, they would have been blown up, and if they were checking for drugs, they wouldn't have found them without opening the bag. Perhaps they were stress-testing the seams on the bag? In any respect, I feel much safer than I have in ages.
The flight was uneventful, although I stink something terrible since I wasn't able to bring deoderant, toothpaste, perfume, etc. I was, however, able to bring Ambien, and we all bought these amazing neck pillows in the airport. I always scoffed at people who lugged around neck pillows before, since I thought they were for chumps--but, after the blissful sleep that I had on my SF-Frankfurt flight (aided by an Ambien, a face mask, and my noise-cancelling headphones), I'm fully converted to chumpdom.
My sleep on the airplane didn't start as early as I would have liked, since Lauren did my Q2 review on the plane--I'd been joking that it would happen all week, since it was due to happen on Thursday and we were both v. busy in the lead-up to our trip. But, the joking apparently put the idea in her head, and as usually happens with me, joking turned into destiny. So, after the fasten-seatbelt sign turned off, Lauren came back to my row (where I luckily had an extra seat beside me), and we spent an hour talking about my performance at work. It was actually quite productive--we had a good chat, and flight attendants periodically brought us drinks and refreshingly-moist washcloths. I think that my company should introduce the moist-towelette tradition in all reviews, as it was lovely! Happily, my review was great, since it would have been rather awkward to be stuck on a plane with my manager for 24 hours if the review had been difficult.
Okay, the water is now on, which means I can shower and go to bed. Goodnight everyone!
Friday, August 11, 2006
welcome to the grand illusion
Contrary to popular belief, spinach-artichoke dip is not improved after sitting in soapy water for five days. Actually, I'm not sure if anyone ever held that belief. But, since I haven't been cooking and have barely been home the last few days, I forgot that I had left a pan and a casserole dish soaking in the sink, and the soaking had long since gone beyond 'helpful' and into 'disgusting'. So, I cleaned up the remnants of the spinach-artichoke dip tonight; a year ago, I would have just left it, so I think I'm growing up. Actually, a year ago, I would have left it and the servants would have taken care of it, but in some strange way I still feel that I've made progress.
I'm leaving for India tomorrow, right on the heels of some drastic changes to aviation security rules. I think that I'm a harbinger of terrorist activity; I was born on September 11, and most of my major trips since then have been within days of terrorist activity--I booked my London trip last year only days before the tube bombings, I left Hyderabad less than a week after a terrorist threat kept us grounded in our apartments, I made it to Sri Lanka just months before the Tamil Tigers and the government restarted hostilities in their decades-long civil war, and I left Dublin a day late because a bomb scare grounded all flights. Kim went so far as to say that when I'm travelling, the Homeland Security threat level should automatically go up to 'severe'. However, I'm not concerned--so far nothing has happened to me, and that's all that matters!
I'm pretty much packed up, and in some ways the whole ban on liquids is a good thing, since it cuts out several pounds of carry-on luggage. In other ways, it totally sucks; I'm not looking forward to a 24-hour trip without toothpaste, deoderant, contact lens solution, or lipgloss. There are gonna be some pretty nasty people on arrival in Hyderabad--and this time, I'll know to use the airplane bathroom right before we land, since an airplane bathroom at the end of a ten-hour flight is still preferable to the holes in the ground (with carefully-placed blocks for one's feet) in the restrooms at the Hyderabad airport. This is particularly true since I won't have access to hand sanitizer or soap until I retrive my checked luggage. Ah, the joys of travel.
Last night, I hung out with Claude, and she v. kindly accompanied me on my quest to find a bridesmaid's dress for Katie's wedding. Not that it was much of a quest, since I'm not a Bridezilla (or Bridesmaidzilla, if those things exist); I tried on four or five dresses, liked two, tried to order one and was told that it would take eight weeks, and so ordered the other one. The second one fit perfectly, except for the requisite shortening required by my pint-sized frame, and I'm quite excited. You can see it here. Katie picked pink, for which I will adore her forever, more than I already adore her, which is quite a bit. And, I look v. fetching in the gown, which means that I have a chance of stealing her away from her fiance at the altar, which would cause the scandal of the decade back home and guarantee me a partner in crime for future road trips across the US. Then again, I don't want to have to pay for law school, so I may have to let her stay with James until she's done with her student loans, at which point I can swoop in. Great plan, eh?
Okay, I should probably go to bed so that I can get up v. early, finish packing, and work for a couple of hours before going to the airport. The next time I write, I should be in Hyderabad! Yay!!
[And also, congrats to my nephew Zane, who got two blue ribbons at the Iowa State Fair! Don't you all wish that *you* could go to the State Fair??]
I'm leaving for India tomorrow, right on the heels of some drastic changes to aviation security rules. I think that I'm a harbinger of terrorist activity; I was born on September 11, and most of my major trips since then have been within days of terrorist activity--I booked my London trip last year only days before the tube bombings, I left Hyderabad less than a week after a terrorist threat kept us grounded in our apartments, I made it to Sri Lanka just months before the Tamil Tigers and the government restarted hostilities in their decades-long civil war, and I left Dublin a day late because a bomb scare grounded all flights. Kim went so far as to say that when I'm travelling, the Homeland Security threat level should automatically go up to 'severe'. However, I'm not concerned--so far nothing has happened to me, and that's all that matters!
I'm pretty much packed up, and in some ways the whole ban on liquids is a good thing, since it cuts out several pounds of carry-on luggage. In other ways, it totally sucks; I'm not looking forward to a 24-hour trip without toothpaste, deoderant, contact lens solution, or lipgloss. There are gonna be some pretty nasty people on arrival in Hyderabad--and this time, I'll know to use the airplane bathroom right before we land, since an airplane bathroom at the end of a ten-hour flight is still preferable to the holes in the ground (with carefully-placed blocks for one's feet) in the restrooms at the Hyderabad airport. This is particularly true since I won't have access to hand sanitizer or soap until I retrive my checked luggage. Ah, the joys of travel.
Last night, I hung out with Claude, and she v. kindly accompanied me on my quest to find a bridesmaid's dress for Katie's wedding. Not that it was much of a quest, since I'm not a Bridezilla (or Bridesmaidzilla, if those things exist); I tried on four or five dresses, liked two, tried to order one and was told that it would take eight weeks, and so ordered the other one. The second one fit perfectly, except for the requisite shortening required by my pint-sized frame, and I'm quite excited. You can see it here. Katie picked pink, for which I will adore her forever, more than I already adore her, which is quite a bit. And, I look v. fetching in the gown, which means that I have a chance of stealing her away from her fiance at the altar, which would cause the scandal of the decade back home and guarantee me a partner in crime for future road trips across the US. Then again, I don't want to have to pay for law school, so I may have to let her stay with James until she's done with her student loans, at which point I can swoop in. Great plan, eh?
Okay, I should probably go to bed so that I can get up v. early, finish packing, and work for a couple of hours before going to the airport. The next time I write, I should be in Hyderabad! Yay!!
[And also, congrats to my nephew Zane, who got two blue ribbons at the Iowa State Fair! Don't you all wish that *you* could go to the State Fair??]
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
all i really learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
I probably shouldn't even be attempting to blog, since I'm rather tired, but if I don't blog, my fans start getting antsy. And by 'fans' I mean 'my parents'.
I went to bed late last night and had to get up early, which resulted in me not showering before work. I also didn't put in my contacts. Nor did I fully wake up for several hours, which was frustrating. So, when I left the office around noon to fill a prescription for malaria pills, antibiotics, and Ambien (a delightful combination!), I was excited to find that I would have to wait for it to be filled, and so I ran home (only two blocks away from the pharmacy) and took a half-hour nap. It was fantastic, and completely saved me for the rest of the day.
I left work around six, went to the mall, and procured some necessities. Not that expensive mascara and moisturizer are really necessities, but I like to pretend that they are so that I feel less guilt over my ultra-bourgeois lifestyle. Then, I came home and crossed off a surprising number of rather unpleasant (and therefore avoided) tasks on my to-do list. Now, it's time for bed--and I leave for Hyderabad in three days! I got my passport and visa back today, so unlike my Dublin experience, it appears that I won't get deported. Yippee skippee.
I went to bed late last night and had to get up early, which resulted in me not showering before work. I also didn't put in my contacts. Nor did I fully wake up for several hours, which was frustrating. So, when I left the office around noon to fill a prescription for malaria pills, antibiotics, and Ambien (a delightful combination!), I was excited to find that I would have to wait for it to be filled, and so I ran home (only two blocks away from the pharmacy) and took a half-hour nap. It was fantastic, and completely saved me for the rest of the day.
I left work around six, went to the mall, and procured some necessities. Not that expensive mascara and moisturizer are really necessities, but I like to pretend that they are so that I feel less guilt over my ultra-bourgeois lifestyle. Then, I came home and crossed off a surprising number of rather unpleasant (and therefore avoided) tasks on my to-do list. Now, it's time for bed--and I leave for Hyderabad in three days! I got my passport and visa back today, so unlike my Dublin experience, it appears that I won't get deported. Yippee skippee.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
taste the saline running down your cheekbone
I really just like the line in the title of this post; it's so melodramatic. As you probably know, I'm all for melodrama! This means that I've thoroughly enjoyed listening repeatedly to the song that my father recommended to me - 'The Riddle' by Five for Fighting. You would think that a band called 'Five for Fighting' would be a little more hard-rock, but the singer is extremely fond of singing in falsetto. I love falsetto almost as much as I love melodrama (funny how they go together), so I'm enjoying this song quite a bit. The title of my post isn't from that song, though; I just threw that in to confuse everybody, including myself.
Okay, that was a rather meandering opener to this blog post--apologies!
Today was fine, although I need to break my stupid habit of not doing anything at work and then working from 8pm to midnight to make up for it. I feel like I'm allowed to relax just a little bit given the amount that I worked over the past few months, but I don't really have time to relax a lot--but if I didn't relax at work, I could get my stuff done and come home at a relatively normal hour. But, it's difficult for me to stop being stupid, so perhaps I'll continue this idiotic trend until I go to Hyderabad. Since that's less than four days from now, my prophetic vision of time-wasting seems destined to come true.
I have nothing of any importance at all to share tonight, so I'm going to go to bed. I will, however, leave you with this: picture of Johnny Weir. I'm so jealous of this guy; the color commentary on him didn't come right out and say that he was gay, probably to avoid losing the viewership of the small percentage of Americans who a) didn't catch on to his lifestyle after watching him parade around in furs and designer jeans, and b) wouldn't want to watch him skate if they did catch on. Not that male figure skating seems to be a popular sport for the heteros, but Johnny Weir's color commentary was awesome--it was all about his designer jeans and handbags, how much he spends at Gucci, and his hundreds of pairs of designer sunglasses. I don't know where he gets his money, but he has fabulous taste, even if he's too inconsistent to medal.
Only three and a half more years until the next winter olympics! After realising that, it's time to cry myself to sleep; goodnight everyone!
Okay, that was a rather meandering opener to this blog post--apologies!
Today was fine, although I need to break my stupid habit of not doing anything at work and then working from 8pm to midnight to make up for it. I feel like I'm allowed to relax just a little bit given the amount that I worked over the past few months, but I don't really have time to relax a lot--but if I didn't relax at work, I could get my stuff done and come home at a relatively normal hour. But, it's difficult for me to stop being stupid, so perhaps I'll continue this idiotic trend until I go to Hyderabad. Since that's less than four days from now, my prophetic vision of time-wasting seems destined to come true.
I have nothing of any importance at all to share tonight, so I'm going to go to bed. I will, however, leave you with this: picture of Johnny Weir. I'm so jealous of this guy; the color commentary on him didn't come right out and say that he was gay, probably to avoid losing the viewership of the small percentage of Americans who a) didn't catch on to his lifestyle after watching him parade around in furs and designer jeans, and b) wouldn't want to watch him skate if they did catch on. Not that male figure skating seems to be a popular sport for the heteros, but Johnny Weir's color commentary was awesome--it was all about his designer jeans and handbags, how much he spends at Gucci, and his hundreds of pairs of designer sunglasses. I don't know where he gets his money, but he has fabulous taste, even if he's too inconsistent to medal.
Only three and a half more years until the next winter olympics! After realising that, it's time to cry myself to sleep; goodnight everyone!
Monday, August 07, 2006
just waiting for the daylight to come crawling in on me
I was not nearly as productive as I should have been today. I didn't get out of bed until noon, which was awesome. Then, I tried to clean my room, but got hungry, so I went out for lunch instead. Despite the fact that I had people over yesterday, I didn't really have any food in my refrigerator; the only thing in there is a lot of beer, which is sad because a) I bought too much and then had more brought to me, and b) I don't drink alone, so I'm destined to have a lot of beer sitting around for awhile. So I went out for a burrito instead, and also got my car washed. Then, I came home, took another stab at organizing my closet, failed, talked to my parents for awhile, tried with my closet again, failed again, and then leapt at Claudia's offer to 'study' at a cafe. However, the cafe we chose was a lovely place that was not meant for studying; we realized almost immediately that it was more of a fancy-eating-place than a dirty-studying-place, but we stayed anyway and were rewarded with two awesome desserts and a delicious cappuccino. Claude came back to my apartment with me and was going to study here, but we just ended up talking for a couple of hours, before I finally kicked her out so that I would have the energy necessary to unearth my bed from the detritus accumulated from my efforts in the closet.
I really love my bedroom; if I keep the door closed, it stays almost perfectly dark in here until well after noon. My windows face the west, and there's an overhang on my patio that prevents all but the late-afternoon sun from reaching the bedroom. This would sound like a complete disaster, but as I believe I mentioned before, there are skylights in the bathroom and kitchen, and so those rooms can be bathed in light while the bedroom is still encased in sleep-sustaining darkness. Despite my utter laziness today, I'm really excited about getting the place organized and decorated--I'm already half in love with this place, and I'm sure that once it's prettied up, I'll be delirious with happiness. Now, though, it's far from perfect, which makes me sad, and so it's time to go to bed before I flip out and spend all night reorganizing things. Goodnight!
I really love my bedroom; if I keep the door closed, it stays almost perfectly dark in here until well after noon. My windows face the west, and there's an overhang on my patio that prevents all but the late-afternoon sun from reaching the bedroom. This would sound like a complete disaster, but as I believe I mentioned before, there are skylights in the bathroom and kitchen, and so those rooms can be bathed in light while the bedroom is still encased in sleep-sustaining darkness. Despite my utter laziness today, I'm really excited about getting the place organized and decorated--I'm already half in love with this place, and I'm sure that once it's prettied up, I'll be delirious with happiness. Now, though, it's far from perfect, which makes me sad, and so it's time to go to bed before I flip out and spend all night reorganizing things. Goodnight!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
my fast likes the windows down (down, down!)
I was reminded tonight of how fantastic those Volkswagen fast commercials were, and for a few blissful moments I was carried back to the 2006 Winter Olympics, watched in the comfort of my gorgeous corporate apartment with a key cadre of individuals (namely Tammy and Claudia, with a few guest appearances by Oniel). Ah, the memories.
Today was great, albeit a bit stressful at first; I had people over for a barbecue since Emily is visiting this week, but I woke up late and took too long to get ready, and so I only had a couple of hours before people arrived to buy groceries, make food, and put my apartment in some vague semblance of order. My family will be happy to know that I've gotten much faster at turning out foodstuffs than I was during that marathon potato-salad endeavor (which took me about five hours longer than it should of because I was such a slow and meticulous chopper). I threw together a batch of chocolate chip chewies, made a Greek salad (which I knew didn't look right, and I didn't realise until ten hours later that I had forgotten to add feta cheese), cooked up some delicious spinach artichoke dip, washed dishes, and gave an abbreviated scrub-down to my bathroom before my guests arrived. All that was left after they showed up was to cook sausages and steaks on my absurdly-small George Foreman grill.
In some ways, I was rather unlucky today; case in point, I was in danger of dropping the (closed, plastic) ketchup bottle, and saved it by sacrificing the (open, glass) relish jar, which then shattered on the kitchen floor, spreading glass and relish everywhere. There was glass between two of my toes, and so I just stood still while my friends found my broom and cleaned up around me. Nice of them, eh? I had visions of them leaving me trapped and then pillaging my apartment Viking-style, but they refrained from the burning and stealing tendencies that are so ingrained into the human psyche. Since this was the second time in two days that I've dropped something that shattered, I think I need to start being a bit more careful with dishes of food.
In other ways, though, I was completely lucky; my friends put together my patio table, which would have been extremely difficult for me to do by myself. This allowed us to sit outside and enjoy the late-afternoon sunshine, and all in all it was quite lovely. The barbecue crowd was rather small, since many of our friends were out of town, but I saw Garry for the first time in a couple of years, which was great. Shedletsky also came over, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The arrival of Claudia, Victor, Laura, and later Oniel ensured that we would spend a significant amount of time reminiscing about the past, but that's always nice because our collective past is rather amusing. And, of course, it was wonderful to see Emily--it's been over eighteen months since the last time I saw her, which seems impossible, so hopefully I'll see her more in the v. near future.
The immediate future, however, contains my bed and my pillow and no alarm clock. When I do get around to waking up tomorrow, I'd like to organise my closet, clean up my kitchen (including a thorough mopping of the area contaminated by the relish before it begins to reek), and perhaps meet up with Claude for some coffee if she's available. Then, it's just four days in the office next week, and I leave for India on Friday! I can't freaking wait.
Today was great, albeit a bit stressful at first; I had people over for a barbecue since Emily is visiting this week, but I woke up late and took too long to get ready, and so I only had a couple of hours before people arrived to buy groceries, make food, and put my apartment in some vague semblance of order. My family will be happy to know that I've gotten much faster at turning out foodstuffs than I was during that marathon potato-salad endeavor (which took me about five hours longer than it should of because I was such a slow and meticulous chopper). I threw together a batch of chocolate chip chewies, made a Greek salad (which I knew didn't look right, and I didn't realise until ten hours later that I had forgotten to add feta cheese), cooked up some delicious spinach artichoke dip, washed dishes, and gave an abbreviated scrub-down to my bathroom before my guests arrived. All that was left after they showed up was to cook sausages and steaks on my absurdly-small George Foreman grill.
In some ways, I was rather unlucky today; case in point, I was in danger of dropping the (closed, plastic) ketchup bottle, and saved it by sacrificing the (open, glass) relish jar, which then shattered on the kitchen floor, spreading glass and relish everywhere. There was glass between two of my toes, and so I just stood still while my friends found my broom and cleaned up around me. Nice of them, eh? I had visions of them leaving me trapped and then pillaging my apartment Viking-style, but they refrained from the burning and stealing tendencies that are so ingrained into the human psyche. Since this was the second time in two days that I've dropped something that shattered, I think I need to start being a bit more careful with dishes of food.
In other ways, though, I was completely lucky; my friends put together my patio table, which would have been extremely difficult for me to do by myself. This allowed us to sit outside and enjoy the late-afternoon sunshine, and all in all it was quite lovely. The barbecue crowd was rather small, since many of our friends were out of town, but I saw Garry for the first time in a couple of years, which was great. Shedletsky also came over, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The arrival of Claudia, Victor, Laura, and later Oniel ensured that we would spend a significant amount of time reminiscing about the past, but that's always nice because our collective past is rather amusing. And, of course, it was wonderful to see Emily--it's been over eighteen months since the last time I saw her, which seems impossible, so hopefully I'll see her more in the v. near future.
The immediate future, however, contains my bed and my pillow and no alarm clock. When I do get around to waking up tomorrow, I'd like to organise my closet, clean up my kitchen (including a thorough mopping of the area contaminated by the relish before it begins to reek), and perhaps meet up with Claude for some coffee if she's available. Then, it's just four days in the office next week, and I leave for India on Friday! I can't freaking wait.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
i heard my mama cry--i heard her pray the night chicago died
Dad - you thought having Red Hot Chili Peppers stuck in your head was bad! How about a little Paper Lace?
In completely unrelated news, today was just a so-so day. I was barely able to drag myself out of bed, and so decided to make myself feel better by wearing one of my Indian outfits--the one with the long red tunic covered with rows of rainbow sequins, and the yellow scarf with the beads on both ends. Anyway, I was walking to my car, carrying my laptop bag, my purse, the dish with the yellow cake, and the plate with the blueberry cake, when I realised that my scarf was dragging on the ground. While I was fussing with the scarf, I forgot that the blueberry cake was just resting on top of the other container, and so I didn't balance it properly, which resulted in the plate shattering on the sidewalk, destroying the cake in the process. Actually, the cake looked really damn good, and I thought briefly of trying to salvage it (you know they say that women are more likely than men to eat food that they've dropped on the ground--probably a survival instinct from back when it took us all freaking day to make some boring meal), but decided against a rescue operation when I noticed that the cake was covered in ceramic shards. Dirt is one thing, but I don't know how I would explain to a paramedic that I had sliced up my esophagus by eating cake off the ground.
So, I threw away half of the best cake that I had made in months, and went to work in a thoroughly surly mood. Work was okay, but definitely not exciting. I came home and tried to clean, but failed miserably; so I went to Target in an attempt to get underbed storage containers, but they didn't have any. The day finally, finally took an upswing when Claude fortuitously called me around nine p.m. I was on my way back from Target and about to stop for dinner, and she was just leaving her lab, so we decided to meet at CPK. I enjoyed my traditional roasted garlic chicken pizza, and then Claude came back to my place for a pot of tea. She left about twenty minutes ago, and I should probably go to bed because I have a ton of stuff to do tomorrow before my barbecue guests arrive. I also need to figure out how I'm going to barbecue, since I haven't had time to get a grill; hopefully people won't mind a little George Foreman fat-reducin' action.
My bedroom is taking shape even if my living room is a mess; I reoriented my bed for the third time in six days, and have apparently gotten more adept at it since I didn't end up with any new bruises. The major problem now is the living room; I can't figure out where I will put a TV (particularly a nice, large TV) if I still have my couch and loveseat in the room as well. I could put the loveseat in my bedroom and forsake a dresser, but that seems silly. If you had told me ten years ago that I would ever be paying $1300 a month for a one-bedroom apartment that I didn't even own, I would have told you that you were a fool. Alas, times change, and I was stupid enough to move to one of the most expensive areas in the world. Oh, well; the sadness that I feel at spending so much money on housing is ameliorated by all of the delicious Mexican food and sushi that I consume on an almost-daily basis. Granted, sushi isn't exactly cheap, but it also isn't exactly a tator-tot casserole, so it does have its benefits.
More blogging won't do me any good tonight, though, since sleep is the most important thing currently on my agenda. Goodnight, everyone!
In completely unrelated news, today was just a so-so day. I was barely able to drag myself out of bed, and so decided to make myself feel better by wearing one of my Indian outfits--the one with the long red tunic covered with rows of rainbow sequins, and the yellow scarf with the beads on both ends. Anyway, I was walking to my car, carrying my laptop bag, my purse, the dish with the yellow cake, and the plate with the blueberry cake, when I realised that my scarf was dragging on the ground. While I was fussing with the scarf, I forgot that the blueberry cake was just resting on top of the other container, and so I didn't balance it properly, which resulted in the plate shattering on the sidewalk, destroying the cake in the process. Actually, the cake looked really damn good, and I thought briefly of trying to salvage it (you know they say that women are more likely than men to eat food that they've dropped on the ground--probably a survival instinct from back when it took us all freaking day to make some boring meal), but decided against a rescue operation when I noticed that the cake was covered in ceramic shards. Dirt is one thing, but I don't know how I would explain to a paramedic that I had sliced up my esophagus by eating cake off the ground.
So, I threw away half of the best cake that I had made in months, and went to work in a thoroughly surly mood. Work was okay, but definitely not exciting. I came home and tried to clean, but failed miserably; so I went to Target in an attempt to get underbed storage containers, but they didn't have any. The day finally, finally took an upswing when Claude fortuitously called me around nine p.m. I was on my way back from Target and about to stop for dinner, and she was just leaving her lab, so we decided to meet at CPK. I enjoyed my traditional roasted garlic chicken pizza, and then Claude came back to my place for a pot of tea. She left about twenty minutes ago, and I should probably go to bed because I have a ton of stuff to do tomorrow before my barbecue guests arrive. I also need to figure out how I'm going to barbecue, since I haven't had time to get a grill; hopefully people won't mind a little George Foreman fat-reducin' action.
My bedroom is taking shape even if my living room is a mess; I reoriented my bed for the third time in six days, and have apparently gotten more adept at it since I didn't end up with any new bruises. The major problem now is the living room; I can't figure out where I will put a TV (particularly a nice, large TV) if I still have my couch and loveseat in the room as well. I could put the loveseat in my bedroom and forsake a dresser, but that seems silly. If you had told me ten years ago that I would ever be paying $1300 a month for a one-bedroom apartment that I didn't even own, I would have told you that you were a fool. Alas, times change, and I was stupid enough to move to one of the most expensive areas in the world. Oh, well; the sadness that I feel at spending so much money on housing is ameliorated by all of the delicious Mexican food and sushi that I consume on an almost-daily basis. Granted, sushi isn't exactly cheap, but it also isn't exactly a tator-tot casserole, so it does have its benefits.
More blogging won't do me any good tonight, though, since sleep is the most important thing currently on my agenda. Goodnight, everyone!
Friday, August 04, 2006
the love i made is the shape of my space
I have to go to bed, since it's one a.m. and I got up a little before seven this morning. I should have gotten up even earlier, but I just couldn't do it, so I took my seven a.m. conference call on my couch in my pajamas. Awesome, huh? Then I went to work, worked, came home and threw a cake together, went back to work for a meeting, came home around 6:15, and had Vidya, Claudia, and Roopa over for a tea party. There was minimal tea and maximal food; I shouldn't have made two cakes (blueberry cream cheese coffee cake and lemon cake) for four people, but I plan to take the leftovers to the office in a shameless attempt to buy friendship, so it's all good. I also made a lot of devilled eggs, and Claudia made delicious cucumber sandwiches and salmon/avocado sandwiches, so all of that food made all of us rather uncomfortable by the end of the night. Also, three of us managed to spill boiling tea on ourselves at some point; I was lucky because, even though I spilt the worst (to the point where I feared that I would end up like my brother did that one time when he spilled the boiling coffee and burned off half his chest), I was able to run into my bedroom and strip off the burning clothes in exchange for some pajamas. I was actually alright, although Claude seemed rather amused when I mentioned five minutes later that my stomach was still warm from the tea, but warm on the outside rather than the inside. Judging by the silence that I'm guessing you read that sentence with, you probably had to be here for that to be funny.
Anyway, it was a great night, but unfortunately I had stuff that I had to get done for Dublin before they got into the office, so I worked from around 11pm until now. Now it's time to go to bed!
Anyway, it was a great night, but unfortunately I had stuff that I had to get done for Dublin before they got into the office, so I worked from around 11pm until now. Now it's time to go to bed!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
we're all dumb and jaded
I went to Taco Bell tonight, where I proceeded to order my two standard baja chicken chalupas. I also ordered a 'small diet coke', which was silly because Taco Bell is one of the primary purveyors of Pepsi products. However, I have never been met with such an unequivocally negative response to such a request before. Most food service workers will automatically say, 'Diet Pepsi?' or 'is Diet Pepsi okay?' This dude, however, just flat-out said, 'We don't serve Diet Coke'. No offer for a different beverage, no indication that they serve Pepsi product, no nothing. I was shocked. Luckily they actually gave me chicken chalupas; the last time I went to that particular Taco Bell, they gave me beef ones instead, which just weren't the same. I think that Taco Bell only has serious appeal when you're there with several of your most insane friends; the rest of the time, it's just kind of dingy and depressing. Despite all that, though, I keep going back--I think they put MSG in the baja sauce or something.
Today, I had a conference call at eight a.m. (which is better than seven a.m., which is when my day starts tomorrow, so I should *really* go to bed). But, I came home around noon to wait for the Comcast guy, and didn't go back. I got here just in time; there were delivery guys waiting for me outside with my new patio furniture, and they'd been there for twenty minutes. I was stunned. I had requested Tuesday as the delivery date, but the woman at Crate and Barrel had said that the shipper would contact me about the move time. I never got a phone call, so it was lucky that I showed up when they were here. Yay! Now I have patio furniture, which I need to set up. I also reoriented my bed again, and the new scrape is higher up on my arm, where it luckily doesn't look like a track mark or like an abusive boyfriend grabbed my wrist. I tried putting together my stupid Ikea desk, but I'm missing some screws and the desk itself sucks, so I'm debating getting a new one, but I have so many other furniture (and television) purchases that I'd like to make, so perhaps I should wait. I also need to buy plane tickets to two weddings. I had a nice long chat with Katie this afternoon; this was the first day we'd talked on the phone in at least four months, and she happened to pick the day where I wasn't sitting in the office, so we were able to do some proper catching-up. I also unpacked several more boxes and washed a load of dishes, and then worked tonight for a couple of hours, so all in all I had a v. good day.
Tomorrow, however, there are no guarantees; it will start too early, will most likely last too late, and I need to come home and clean up some more because I'm having a tea party for two (well, three, if you count me, which you should, because I'm making the dessert) on Thursday and need to have a place for my lovely lady friends to sit. Take care, everyone!
P.S. Alan, I have always loved that poem! Excellent choice :)
Today, I had a conference call at eight a.m. (which is better than seven a.m., which is when my day starts tomorrow, so I should *really* go to bed). But, I came home around noon to wait for the Comcast guy, and didn't go back. I got here just in time; there were delivery guys waiting for me outside with my new patio furniture, and they'd been there for twenty minutes. I was stunned. I had requested Tuesday as the delivery date, but the woman at Crate and Barrel had said that the shipper would contact me about the move time. I never got a phone call, so it was lucky that I showed up when they were here. Yay! Now I have patio furniture, which I need to set up. I also reoriented my bed again, and the new scrape is higher up on my arm, where it luckily doesn't look like a track mark or like an abusive boyfriend grabbed my wrist. I tried putting together my stupid Ikea desk, but I'm missing some screws and the desk itself sucks, so I'm debating getting a new one, but I have so many other furniture (and television) purchases that I'd like to make, so perhaps I should wait. I also need to buy plane tickets to two weddings. I had a nice long chat with Katie this afternoon; this was the first day we'd talked on the phone in at least four months, and she happened to pick the day where I wasn't sitting in the office, so we were able to do some proper catching-up. I also unpacked several more boxes and washed a load of dishes, and then worked tonight for a couple of hours, so all in all I had a v. good day.
Tomorrow, however, there are no guarantees; it will start too early, will most likely last too late, and I need to come home and clean up some more because I'm having a tea party for two (well, three, if you count me, which you should, because I'm making the dessert) on Thursday and need to have a place for my lovely lady friends to sit. Take care, everyone!
P.S. Alan, I have always loved that poem! Excellent choice :)
Monday, July 31, 2006
haemoglobin is the key
According to my handy-dandy spreadsheet, which contains a detailed list of everything that resided in storage for the past few months, I have the following things yet to unpack:
* three tubs of clothing
* two tubs of bedding
* my stereo
* one box of books and journals
* two boxes of shoes
* seven boxes of random decorations and mementos
* two boxes of electronics
* one box of DVD cases
* one box of hair styling equipment (replete with pink beehive wig)
* two boxes of random stuff
This all seems like a lot, but I've successfully unpacked all of my kitchen stuff, put up my ridiculously-frustrating Ikea shelves, and unpacked nine boxes of books. The apartment is quickly taking shape!
In other news, I had a great idea for a book today, but I'm not going to share it with you--you'll have to wait until it gets published, so don't hold your breath :) I also had an impromptu, v. nice lunch with Subz (real name: Lauren) today; I'm still surprised that so many of my 'summer friends' from India turned into real friends, and so I'm reveling in my suddenly-expanded friendship base. They're all about as crazy as my 'real' friends, so it's no wonder that I developed such a strong bond with them--you have to be slightly insane to agree to move to India for 6+ months. Speaking of India, I'm leaving for that lovely place in less than two weeks! I can't freaking wait.
Now I suppose I should go to bed so that I can drag myself out of my lovely bed at six a.m. and enjoy a morning full of conference calls. I can't complain too much, though, since I'll have to leave around noon to come back to the apartment and wait for the Comcast guy. Consequently, tomorrow should be a v. good day. Goodnight!
* three tubs of clothing
* two tubs of bedding
* my stereo
* one box of books and journals
* two boxes of shoes
* seven boxes of random decorations and mementos
* two boxes of electronics
* one box of DVD cases
* one box of hair styling equipment (replete with pink beehive wig)
* two boxes of random stuff
This all seems like a lot, but I've successfully unpacked all of my kitchen stuff, put up my ridiculously-frustrating Ikea shelves, and unpacked nine boxes of books. The apartment is quickly taking shape!
In other news, I had a great idea for a book today, but I'm not going to share it with you--you'll have to wait until it gets published, so don't hold your breath :) I also had an impromptu, v. nice lunch with Subz (real name: Lauren) today; I'm still surprised that so many of my 'summer friends' from India turned into real friends, and so I'm reveling in my suddenly-expanded friendship base. They're all about as crazy as my 'real' friends, so it's no wonder that I developed such a strong bond with them--you have to be slightly insane to agree to move to India for 6+ months. Speaking of India, I'm leaving for that lovely place in less than two weeks! I can't freaking wait.
Now I suppose I should go to bed so that I can drag myself out of my lovely bed at six a.m. and enjoy a morning full of conference calls. I can't complain too much, though, since I'll have to leave around noon to come back to the apartment and wait for the Comcast guy. Consequently, tomorrow should be a v. good day. Goodnight!
round here, something radiates
You may have noticed a change in scenery around here. Since I'm back in the United States on a semi-permanent basis, the color has reverted to pink. Also, 'swampler the dubliner' is not exactly appropriate anymore. I was trying to think of a name the other day whilst walking to lunch with Matt, Vidya, and Claudia; Vidya was a fan of 'Swampy Swampleface', which she likes to call me for inexplicable reasons. Then, Matt mentioned that he likes to call me 'Swamplor' because it makes me sound like an evil killer robot. Someone (I believe it was Claudia) pointed out that this was a good pun, since she originally heard 'Swamp Lore'. Et voila, 'Swampy's Swamp Lore' was born. The 'lore' part seems appropriate considering the stories I tell here, and 'swampy' is appropriate because no one calls me Sara anymore. If you have other suggestions, feel free to share.
Today was a great day. I woke up at 8:30ish, met the movers at my storage place at 9:30, and was fully moved to my apartment by around 11am. Yes, hiring movers is more expensive than doing it myself, but I can't really do it myself without renting a truck and coercing a bunch of friends into a rather unpleasant day; this method ensured that all of my stuff reached my apartment v. quickly and without causing any friendship rifts. Also, one of the movers hit on me, which was thoroughly amusing. I had already been eyeing him, because he was frankly the best-looking of the three and had some nice (but not too overdeveloped) musculature that showed to its advantage as he hauled all my stuff around. Since I had nothing better to do than watch the movers (having foolishly left my magazine in the car while hanging out at the storage place), I had watched them as discreetly as possible. Then, back at the apartment, the guy told me that I had beautiful eyes (thank you, Nars, for your fantastic plummy eyeshadows!). He also asked me on his next trip through the kitchen whether I'm living here with my boyfriend, and when I said that I had no boyfriend, he asked me why not. I didn't want to say that I'm an antisocial freak with an aversion to commitment, so I just said that I'd been away. This all made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, despite the obvious fact that the guy was probably a man-whore--I mean, he had stripped down to his wifebeater while the other two guys left on their regulation t-shirts, he was wearing a regular belt over his low-slung jeans rather than the regulation heavy-lifting back-support belt that the others were sporting, and he even had a short ponytail. Essentially, he was the ultimate suburban-housewife fantasy. This probably works well for him, but (as I told Claude later), I didn't even have sheets on my bed, so he was destined to strike out with me. Regardless, I was in quite the chipper mood, and all of my stuff was in my apartment before noon. Score!
I amazed myself with my work ethic this afternoon; while I may do tons at the office, I hate doing stuff around the house, and previous moves have been characterised by my tendency to leave things in boxes for months or years. However, I vow that this one will be different. I unpacked all of my kitchen stuff, and so my kitchen is mostly set up even though I need to run a bunch of dishes through the dishwasher and make a run to the grocery store for some provisions. I also did four loads of laundry at the laundromat down the street. It adjoins a lovely cafe with a huge outdoor seating area that feels rather garden-y, and so I predict that I'll spend some time there drinking iced mochas while waiting for my clothes to dry. So, I talked to my parents, drank my iced mocha, folded all my clothes on the spot (another leaf turned over--usually I just stuff them all in my clothes basket and never bother to fold the underwear, instead preferring to root around in the basket looking for panties amongst the socks until I reach the crisis day when I realise that there aren't any more pairs in the basket, prompting a trip to either the laundromat or Victoria's Secret) and came home.
Tonight was the first time I've made a bed in almost six months. Sure, I've occasionally tidied up the bedclothes on the days when it wasn't made for me by the housekeeper, but I haven't actually started from scratch and put the sheets on the bed myself. Judging by the massive, painful bruise I have on my left wrist, I'm going to be a danger to myself unless I quickly regain my bedmaking skillz. Actually, I'm exaggerating; the bruise is just as nasty as I proclaimed it to be, but I got it because I decided to reorient my bed before making it, which involved moving the mattress and box spring, and when I put the box spring back into position, I managed to scrape up my wrist. But, pretending that it came from making the bed makes for a better story. I'm so excited to sleep, though; my bed in Dublin was a complete jhoke. And, I've put one of my Indian bedspreads on it; this one is pink with gold embroidery, like brocade or something, and it's quite lovely.
Okay, bedtime for me; I want to be productive at work tomorrow so that I can leave in relatively good time and put up my bookshelves. Goodnight!
Today was a great day. I woke up at 8:30ish, met the movers at my storage place at 9:30, and was fully moved to my apartment by around 11am. Yes, hiring movers is more expensive than doing it myself, but I can't really do it myself without renting a truck and coercing a bunch of friends into a rather unpleasant day; this method ensured that all of my stuff reached my apartment v. quickly and without causing any friendship rifts. Also, one of the movers hit on me, which was thoroughly amusing. I had already been eyeing him, because he was frankly the best-looking of the three and had some nice (but not too overdeveloped) musculature that showed to its advantage as he hauled all my stuff around. Since I had nothing better to do than watch the movers (having foolishly left my magazine in the car while hanging out at the storage place), I had watched them as discreetly as possible. Then, back at the apartment, the guy told me that I had beautiful eyes (thank you, Nars, for your fantastic plummy eyeshadows!). He also asked me on his next trip through the kitchen whether I'm living here with my boyfriend, and when I said that I had no boyfriend, he asked me why not. I didn't want to say that I'm an antisocial freak with an aversion to commitment, so I just said that I'd been away. This all made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, despite the obvious fact that the guy was probably a man-whore--I mean, he had stripped down to his wifebeater while the other two guys left on their regulation t-shirts, he was wearing a regular belt over his low-slung jeans rather than the regulation heavy-lifting back-support belt that the others were sporting, and he even had a short ponytail. Essentially, he was the ultimate suburban-housewife fantasy. This probably works well for him, but (as I told Claude later), I didn't even have sheets on my bed, so he was destined to strike out with me. Regardless, I was in quite the chipper mood, and all of my stuff was in my apartment before noon. Score!
I amazed myself with my work ethic this afternoon; while I may do tons at the office, I hate doing stuff around the house, and previous moves have been characterised by my tendency to leave things in boxes for months or years. However, I vow that this one will be different. I unpacked all of my kitchen stuff, and so my kitchen is mostly set up even though I need to run a bunch of dishes through the dishwasher and make a run to the grocery store for some provisions. I also did four loads of laundry at the laundromat down the street. It adjoins a lovely cafe with a huge outdoor seating area that feels rather garden-y, and so I predict that I'll spend some time there drinking iced mochas while waiting for my clothes to dry. So, I talked to my parents, drank my iced mocha, folded all my clothes on the spot (another leaf turned over--usually I just stuff them all in my clothes basket and never bother to fold the underwear, instead preferring to root around in the basket looking for panties amongst the socks until I reach the crisis day when I realise that there aren't any more pairs in the basket, prompting a trip to either the laundromat or Victoria's Secret) and came home.
Tonight was the first time I've made a bed in almost six months. Sure, I've occasionally tidied up the bedclothes on the days when it wasn't made for me by the housekeeper, but I haven't actually started from scratch and put the sheets on the bed myself. Judging by the massive, painful bruise I have on my left wrist, I'm going to be a danger to myself unless I quickly regain my bedmaking skillz. Actually, I'm exaggerating; the bruise is just as nasty as I proclaimed it to be, but I got it because I decided to reorient my bed before making it, which involved moving the mattress and box spring, and when I put the box spring back into position, I managed to scrape up my wrist. But, pretending that it came from making the bed makes for a better story. I'm so excited to sleep, though; my bed in Dublin was a complete jhoke. And, I've put one of my Indian bedspreads on it; this one is pink with gold embroidery, like brocade or something, and it's quite lovely.
Okay, bedtime for me; I want to be productive at work tomorrow so that I can leave in relatively good time and put up my bookshelves. Goodnight!
Saturday, July 29, 2006
come to decide that the things that i tried were in my life just to get high on
I'm feeling rather agonised tonight, perhaps because it's after one a.m. and I've barely slept this week. Or perhaps it's because I just finished reading a romance novel, which simultaneously reminds me of all of my failings on the novelist front and all of my failings on the relationship front. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I don't know what I want with my life, and seem no closer to knowing than when I graduated from college three years ago.
In that time, I have lived in six different apartments, not counting the various places I slept when I was homeless while temping and homeless while waiting to go to Ireland. I've had five different roommates in the States, and another ten or so in foreign countries. I have been to four continents in the past year, and lived in three of them. I got my passport fifteen months ago and only have four blank pages left. I have acquired a shocking amount of stuff and have one of the best-stocked kitchens this side of thirty. I've made friends, lost friends, regained friends, and perhaps grown up just a little bit. I've driven 1800 miles on I-80 twice in three months. I've slept a lot, worked a lot, drank a bit too much (but no more than is usual for my age), listened to a lot of bad music, and seen David Hasselhoff live in concert. I've gotten better about being assertive with customer service representatives, both in person and over the phone. I have an excellent credit score and have begun to think about retirement (although this will not stop me from buying a plasma-screen TV if I succumb to temptation this weekend). I have started taking better care of my skin, although this statement is contradicted by the intense peeling process currently underway on my sunburned shoulder. I dress more professionally at work, provided that I have done laundry in the recent past, and I intend to start blowdrying my hair more often for extra polish. I am poised and confident with managers. My career is moving in the 'right' direction even though I haven't set any real career goals. I enjoy a deep and satisfying relationship with my parents, siblings, and other family members, particularly when I have time to call them. I can organise a dinner party or gathering for any number of people without panicking.
Despite all that, tonight is not a good night. Most days, I'm perfectly content, even happy, sometimes even blissfully happy; but there are nights (it always seems to be nights) when I doubt myself and wonder whether I'm on the right track. Part of the problem is that I can't quantify the track and don't have a map for it, which terrifies the structure-loving parts of my soul. But, the freedom-loving parts of my soul trump the structure, for whatever reason; I can commit to structures of my own design, but not to others' structures, and so I'm rebelling against the traditional life even though the structure that I would create for myself would probably have most of the standard elements--husband, kids, house, cars, lovely kitchen, nice career, vacations to exotic locales, etc., etc. I want my life to be something vibrant, something breathtaking, something that will make other people look at it and be amazed at my creative and daring. I've taken a rather boring job for an admittedly-excellent company and turned it into the most satisfying thing that I could, which seems to be my typical modus operandi--pick something that is a poor fit for me (i.e. the flute, Symbolic Systems, corporate America), and try to turn it into the thing that I should have done in the first place (which explains why I picked up the cymbals as a side-project, turned my major into a weird hybrid revolving around social psychology and history, and wrung a surprising amount of travel out of my relatively-stationary job).
Anyway, I don't regret that my life is so absurd and ridiculous, but as I have probably mentioned before (for those of you who are dedicated readers), there are times when I do wonder if I should be a bit more conventional. For one, I'm really tired of making friends and then saying goodbye to them; I'm missing too many people right now, separated from them by time, distance, misunderstanding, or some combination of the three. And yet, I can't help but get excited about the possibility of leaving again, even though the ink on my one-year lease is barely dry. The topic came up several times in the past week in relation to three different offices, and the first thing I felt was a racing heart, followed by a surge of desire, followed by a blast of cold water as I forcibly reminded myself that I am not moving again and that I want to stay put for awhile. This doesn't bode well for my ability to switch to a conventional life even if I wanted to; I've been back less than two weeks. I really *am* happy to be back, and I really *do* want to stay here, but there's a rebellious part of me that's already fidgeting.
For another, I find myself missing college, and yet it already feels like a dream; it's slipped away to the shadows, and I get brief, intense flashes of memory that only serve to remind me of the past without providing me with a method for reclaiming it. I don't think I really miss college, but I do miss feeling like I didn't have to make any decisions. I'm now at the point where I need to make some decisions, and I don't have the luxury of knowing that I'm committed to schooling for x more years. At least college was safe and highly entertaining, even if it didn't pay very well at the time.
Okay, enough of my ramblings. I'm having trouble articulating my thoughts, and the sunshine will banish them anyway. This is the weekend for cleaning the apartment and moving all of my stuff out of storage; wish me luck!
In that time, I have lived in six different apartments, not counting the various places I slept when I was homeless while temping and homeless while waiting to go to Ireland. I've had five different roommates in the States, and another ten or so in foreign countries. I have been to four continents in the past year, and lived in three of them. I got my passport fifteen months ago and only have four blank pages left. I have acquired a shocking amount of stuff and have one of the best-stocked kitchens this side of thirty. I've made friends, lost friends, regained friends, and perhaps grown up just a little bit. I've driven 1800 miles on I-80 twice in three months. I've slept a lot, worked a lot, drank a bit too much (but no more than is usual for my age), listened to a lot of bad music, and seen David Hasselhoff live in concert. I've gotten better about being assertive with customer service representatives, both in person and over the phone. I have an excellent credit score and have begun to think about retirement (although this will not stop me from buying a plasma-screen TV if I succumb to temptation this weekend). I have started taking better care of my skin, although this statement is contradicted by the intense peeling process currently underway on my sunburned shoulder. I dress more professionally at work, provided that I have done laundry in the recent past, and I intend to start blowdrying my hair more often for extra polish. I am poised and confident with managers. My career is moving in the 'right' direction even though I haven't set any real career goals. I enjoy a deep and satisfying relationship with my parents, siblings, and other family members, particularly when I have time to call them. I can organise a dinner party or gathering for any number of people without panicking.
Despite all that, tonight is not a good night. Most days, I'm perfectly content, even happy, sometimes even blissfully happy; but there are nights (it always seems to be nights) when I doubt myself and wonder whether I'm on the right track. Part of the problem is that I can't quantify the track and don't have a map for it, which terrifies the structure-loving parts of my soul. But, the freedom-loving parts of my soul trump the structure, for whatever reason; I can commit to structures of my own design, but not to others' structures, and so I'm rebelling against the traditional life even though the structure that I would create for myself would probably have most of the standard elements--husband, kids, house, cars, lovely kitchen, nice career, vacations to exotic locales, etc., etc. I want my life to be something vibrant, something breathtaking, something that will make other people look at it and be amazed at my creative and daring. I've taken a rather boring job for an admittedly-excellent company and turned it into the most satisfying thing that I could, which seems to be my typical modus operandi--pick something that is a poor fit for me (i.e. the flute, Symbolic Systems, corporate America), and try to turn it into the thing that I should have done in the first place (which explains why I picked up the cymbals as a side-project, turned my major into a weird hybrid revolving around social psychology and history, and wrung a surprising amount of travel out of my relatively-stationary job).
Anyway, I don't regret that my life is so absurd and ridiculous, but as I have probably mentioned before (for those of you who are dedicated readers), there are times when I do wonder if I should be a bit more conventional. For one, I'm really tired of making friends and then saying goodbye to them; I'm missing too many people right now, separated from them by time, distance, misunderstanding, or some combination of the three. And yet, I can't help but get excited about the possibility of leaving again, even though the ink on my one-year lease is barely dry. The topic came up several times in the past week in relation to three different offices, and the first thing I felt was a racing heart, followed by a surge of desire, followed by a blast of cold water as I forcibly reminded myself that I am not moving again and that I want to stay put for awhile. This doesn't bode well for my ability to switch to a conventional life even if I wanted to; I've been back less than two weeks. I really *am* happy to be back, and I really *do* want to stay here, but there's a rebellious part of me that's already fidgeting.
For another, I find myself missing college, and yet it already feels like a dream; it's slipped away to the shadows, and I get brief, intense flashes of memory that only serve to remind me of the past without providing me with a method for reclaiming it. I don't think I really miss college, but I do miss feeling like I didn't have to make any decisions. I'm now at the point where I need to make some decisions, and I don't have the luxury of knowing that I'm committed to schooling for x more years. At least college was safe and highly entertaining, even if it didn't pay very well at the time.
Okay, enough of my ramblings. I'm having trouble articulating my thoughts, and the sunshine will banish them anyway. This is the weekend for cleaning the apartment and moving all of my stuff out of storage; wish me luck!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
and the memories of me will feel more like bad dreams
I had a really good day today, all things considered; the 'things considered' would include that I got here at seven a.m. and left at seven p.m. But, in between, I had lunch with Claude, Vidya, and Matt, thus combining two previously-distinct areas of my life. Vidya and I grabbed some frozen yogurt from the new frozen yogurt machine in my building's cafeteria, which was pretty sweet (literally! har har). I also confirmed the order of a patio set from Crate and Barrel (ridiculous--but I ended up getting the floor model, which saved some serious cash that I can now use on other silly purchases). They solved the dilemma that I discussed in excruciating detail yesterday by finding the same set at a Crate and Barrel a little farther away, which could provide delivery sometime next week. Between the movers arriving on Sunday, the patio furniture and the Comcast guy arriving on Tuesday, and the TV that I intend to buy in the next couple of weeks, my new apartment is really taking shape! None too soon, either; I'm getting tired of sleeping on an air mattress and spending all of my time at the office out of sheer boredom.
Tonight, I had sushi with Claude, and we ended up catching up for a couple of hours as the remnants of eel and crunchy crab slowly became less appetizing in front of us. It was really nice; I hadn't had the chance to see her by herself for much time since I got back to California (which was less than two weeks ago, shocker). I really do have my life back now, which is great. Now, I'm going to go back to my unfurnished apartment, curl up on my air mattress, and sleep until it's time to get up for my 7:30am conference call. Then it's the weekend, and I can't wait! I'm going to sleep in until at least nine on Saturday, and it's going to rock. Goodnight!
Tonight, I had sushi with Claude, and we ended up catching up for a couple of hours as the remnants of eel and crunchy crab slowly became less appetizing in front of us. It was really nice; I hadn't had the chance to see her by herself for much time since I got back to California (which was less than two weeks ago, shocker). I really do have my life back now, which is great. Now, I'm going to go back to my unfurnished apartment, curl up on my air mattress, and sleep until it's time to get up for my 7:30am conference call. Then it's the weekend, and I can't wait! I'm going to sleep in until at least nine on Saturday, and it's going to rock. Goodnight!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
there's no blame for how our love did slowly fade
I'm freakin' tired, but things are good. I've nearly recovered from the awful sunburn that I acquired in Emeryville, and the pain no longer wakes me up at night, which is a definite improvement over Sunday and Monday night. I went to Crate and Barrel tonight, which is a good way to blow lots of money; the guy there actually suggested that I get a part-time job there so that I can get 30% off. A part of me seriously considered it, except I don't know how I would swing a part-time job on top of the equivalent of two full-time jobs that I already work for my current employer. Sigh.
Anyway, I got a teapot at Crate and Barrel that I've wanted for over a year; when I gave Claude my old teapot (a blue ceramic one) upon my move to Dublin, I was fully aware that my motivation was only partially altruism--I recognised that I would need to replace the teapot when I returned, and I could replace it with the cool clear glass teapot that I'd had my eye on for months. Clever me! I also purchased an egg platter to hold my devilled eggs in all their glory, since it drives me nuts to serve eggs on a plate that allows them to slide around. Yes, I'm compulsive.
Finally, I tried to order patio furniture, which turned into some drama; the chairs are available but the table is backordered, and I could get it all shipped from the warehouse for $70 when the table arrives at the warehouse, but it could take up to a month. Meanwhile, they said that they had the table and chairs in stock in the Palo Alto store (which is where I was), but I have no way to get those items to my apartment on my own. So, we spent ten minutes discussing various schemes, and I'm going to call my moving company tomorrow to see if my move can include a stop at Crate and Barrel. Then, they went back to the storeroom to verify availability, and it turns out that some bastard has a hold placed on their last two tables and all ten of their chairs. He's apparently had the hold for longer than they would normally allow, so I'm hoping that they'll call him tomorrow and tell him that he has to give them up, so that then I'm back to the problem of transportation rather than the problem of backordering.
It's funny that I'm trying to furnish a place that I don't have any time to see, but I think I would spend more time there if I had internet and the ability to cook and someplace to sit other than my air mattress. The movers are coming on Sunday (or earlier if other availability opens up), and then my life can get back on track. Yay! Just in time for my trip to India...I leave in sixteen days. Now it's time to go home and go to bed; goodnight, everyone!
Anyway, I got a teapot at Crate and Barrel that I've wanted for over a year; when I gave Claude my old teapot (a blue ceramic one) upon my move to Dublin, I was fully aware that my motivation was only partially altruism--I recognised that I would need to replace the teapot when I returned, and I could replace it with the cool clear glass teapot that I'd had my eye on for months. Clever me! I also purchased an egg platter to hold my devilled eggs in all their glory, since it drives me nuts to serve eggs on a plate that allows them to slide around. Yes, I'm compulsive.
Finally, I tried to order patio furniture, which turned into some drama; the chairs are available but the table is backordered, and I could get it all shipped from the warehouse for $70 when the table arrives at the warehouse, but it could take up to a month. Meanwhile, they said that they had the table and chairs in stock in the Palo Alto store (which is where I was), but I have no way to get those items to my apartment on my own. So, we spent ten minutes discussing various schemes, and I'm going to call my moving company tomorrow to see if my move can include a stop at Crate and Barrel. Then, they went back to the storeroom to verify availability, and it turns out that some bastard has a hold placed on their last two tables and all ten of their chairs. He's apparently had the hold for longer than they would normally allow, so I'm hoping that they'll call him tomorrow and tell him that he has to give them up, so that then I'm back to the problem of transportation rather than the problem of backordering.
It's funny that I'm trying to furnish a place that I don't have any time to see, but I think I would spend more time there if I had internet and the ability to cook and someplace to sit other than my air mattress. The movers are coming on Sunday (or earlier if other availability opens up), and then my life can get back on track. Yay! Just in time for my trip to India...I leave in sixteen days. Now it's time to go home and go to bed; goodnight, everyone!
Sunday, July 23, 2006
come on try a little, nothing is forever
I don't have internet in my new place, which should explain the dearth of posts; also, I've been working constantly, so I haven't really wanted to stick around the extra fifteen minutes necessary to write a blog post after wrapping up every night. Too bad, eh?
But, I am rapidly resettling into my former life; in fact, as I have said to some of my friends, it just feels like Ireland was one 12-week-long 'day' at work, and that now I'm off work and able to hang out. Not that I'm really able to hang out; I was in the office from 7am to midnight on Wednesday, and I've worked similarly-crazy hours the rest of the week as well. I have made efforts to live solely on adrenaline, and they've panned out; I had dinner with Ritu/Vidya/Roopa/Claudia/Geetha on Tuesday, worked for seventeen hours on Wednesday (with a break to sign my lease and buy an air mattress and a towel), had dinner with Ritu/Renee/Vidya/Sri/Claude/Geetha/Stephen on Thursday, and had coffee with Ritu/Vidya/Claude on Friday morning. All of that hanging out with Ritu was v. necessary, since I hadn't seen her in over a year and she was only in the Bay Area until Friday. It was great to see her, and we reconnected effortlessly, so hopefully I will see more of her in the near future.
Yesterday was a beautiful day; Claudia, Oniel and I went to Emeryville to visit John and Vince. We were supposed to go to Half Moon Bay for a barbecue, but John claimed that traffic was terrible, and so lured us to a park near his apartment instead. All in all, this was a great choice; it was overlooking the Emeryville Marina, so we could still see water, but we didn't get stuck in traffic on Highway 92. We ate tasty sausages, sat around, played Parcheesi and some card games, and spent six hours basking in the sunlight, which contributed to today's nasty sunburn. We had a late dinner at Pizza My Heart, a strangely fitting choice. All in all, we could have had exactly the same experience in Palo Alto, and so we're going to have to trade off in the near future.
Today, I had a surprise breakfast with Vidya, then met Irish Matt in San Francisco, where we did a bit of shopping before heading back down to the Peninsula. We were supposed to go to beach, but traffic was severely backed up, so we just had drinks at two different cafes instead. I dropped him off at his hotel, came to the office, did some work, and now I'm blogging.
This is the worst blog post ever. I'm sorry it's so boring; I think the heat is frying my brains. It's also making me use too many semi-colons; but, I love them! So, I'm going to cool off by going to Target and looking at patio furniture. One day soon I'll change the look of my blog and write something more interesting, but it ain't gonna happen now. Goodnight!
But, I am rapidly resettling into my former life; in fact, as I have said to some of my friends, it just feels like Ireland was one 12-week-long 'day' at work, and that now I'm off work and able to hang out. Not that I'm really able to hang out; I was in the office from 7am to midnight on Wednesday, and I've worked similarly-crazy hours the rest of the week as well. I have made efforts to live solely on adrenaline, and they've panned out; I had dinner with Ritu/Vidya/Roopa/Claudia/Geetha on Tuesday, worked for seventeen hours on Wednesday (with a break to sign my lease and buy an air mattress and a towel), had dinner with Ritu/Renee/Vidya/Sri/Claude/Geetha/Stephen on Thursday, and had coffee with Ritu/Vidya/Claude on Friday morning. All of that hanging out with Ritu was v. necessary, since I hadn't seen her in over a year and she was only in the Bay Area until Friday. It was great to see her, and we reconnected effortlessly, so hopefully I will see more of her in the near future.
Yesterday was a beautiful day; Claudia, Oniel and I went to Emeryville to visit John and Vince. We were supposed to go to Half Moon Bay for a barbecue, but John claimed that traffic was terrible, and so lured us to a park near his apartment instead. All in all, this was a great choice; it was overlooking the Emeryville Marina, so we could still see water, but we didn't get stuck in traffic on Highway 92. We ate tasty sausages, sat around, played Parcheesi and some card games, and spent six hours basking in the sunlight, which contributed to today's nasty sunburn. We had a late dinner at Pizza My Heart, a strangely fitting choice. All in all, we could have had exactly the same experience in Palo Alto, and so we're going to have to trade off in the near future.
Today, I had a surprise breakfast with Vidya, then met Irish Matt in San Francisco, where we did a bit of shopping before heading back down to the Peninsula. We were supposed to go to beach, but traffic was severely backed up, so we just had drinks at two different cafes instead. I dropped him off at his hotel, came to the office, did some work, and now I'm blogging.
This is the worst blog post ever. I'm sorry it's so boring; I think the heat is frying my brains. It's also making me use too many semi-colons; but, I love them! So, I'm going to cool off by going to Target and looking at patio furniture. One day soon I'll change the look of my blog and write something more interesting, but it ain't gonna happen now. Goodnight!
Thursday, July 20, 2006
happy 20th july!!
I haven't written in ages, and I sincerely apologise...but I've been rather busy getting settled back in, and was in the office until almost midnight last night (I really need to set some boundaries on my time if I'm working in one office for another office, since both offices seem to expect full days from me). Anyway, I just wanted to wish you all a happy 20th July, on this, the 62nd anniversary of the 20th July 1944 attempt to blow up Adolf Hitler in his bunker at Wolfsschanze. May you have a happy and prosperous day that does not end in you being summarily executed in the courtyard of the Army headquarters on Bendlerstrasse!
Now, back to work, and perhaps I'll write more later!
Now, back to work, and perhaps I'll write more later!
Saturday, July 15, 2006
road trippin' with my two favorite allies
Okay, so I only have one ally with me (my brother), but my wonderful Pontiac Sunfire almost counts as a second ally, so I feel that the Red Hot Chili Peppers quote is appropriate.
Sorry that I've been incommunicado for the whole week, but I was working from home, and when I wasn't working, I had no desire to play with my laptop. This will change when I get back to California on Monday, I promise! For now, though, suffice it to say that I'm alive, I'm in the same motel in Cheyenne, Wyoming, that I stayed in three months ago, and we're making astonishing progress across the vast wasteland of the Great American West. I'll write more later!
Sorry that I've been incommunicado for the whole week, but I was working from home, and when I wasn't working, I had no desire to play with my laptop. This will change when I get back to California on Monday, I promise! For now, though, suffice it to say that I'm alive, I'm in the same motel in Cheyenne, Wyoming, that I stayed in three months ago, and we're making astonishing progress across the vast wasteland of the Great American West. I'll write more later!
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
hello ireland
So, I'm not in Iowa. It's funny that I wasn't able to stay in Dublin when I wanted to, and now I can't get out. I was halfway to the airport this morning when the taxi service radioed all drivers to say that there had been another bomb scare at the Dublin airport, and that the place had been evacuated and no cars were being allowed into the area. There had been a couple of bomb scares in the past week and a half that were both hoaxes, but security wasn't taking any chances, possibly also because today was the anniversery of the London tube bombings. I ended up coming back to my apartment, waking up my roommate to be let back in (since I had dropped my keys in my mailbox upon my departure), and then going to the office for the day. I've already lost my desk there, so I just ended up sitting at any available desk in the general vicinity of my old one, feeling like a complete transient. I'm going to try to get home again tomorrow...but we all know how much the Irish love their bombs, so who knows how long it will be before I can get out of here!
Anyway, I would blog about South Africa tonight, but I want to go to bed. If I'm not in the US the next time I blog, I'm going to be a sad panda :(
Anyway, I would blog about South Africa tonight, but I want to go to bed. If I'm not in the US the next time I blog, I'm going to be a sad panda :(
Thursday, July 06, 2006
social butterfly
I made it back from Cape Town in one piece--one deliciously-relaxed and yet simultaneously-exhausted piece. I will post a full update when I'm back in Iowa. I've been back in Dublin for 4 hours, have successfully repacked (I think--we'll see how it goes when I show up at the airport tomorrow), and have come into the office for an hour or so. Now I'm going out for drinks, followed by more drinks, followed by a nap, followed by a flight from Dublin-Chicago-Des Moines. When I write again, I'll be in the United States!
Monday, July 03, 2006
bless the rains down in africa
I'm still in South Africa, and it's still awesome; we went on a safari today and saw all kinds of cool animals. Tomorrow we're celebrating the Fourth of July with an all-day winetasting tour, which seems rather appropriate. Then, I leave Wednesday night to go back to Dublin! I'm sad that my vacation is ending so quickly--I'm having a fabulous time, even if I am completely exhausted right now. The pace doesn't seem likely to lighten up anytime soon, and yet I find it difficult to be upset about that.
Now that you know I'm still alive, I'm going to go hang out again; if you live in Iowa, you may see me again before you hear from me. Take care!
Now that you know I'm still alive, I'm going to go hang out again; if you live in Iowa, you may see me again before you hear from me. Take care!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)