Nihil Novum Sub Sole

Go see this movie

2007-09-29T12:59:00.000-07:00

A New Haircut

2007-07-21T21:07:00.001-07:00

I feel so spunky!

On Biking and the Tour de France

2007-07-19T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have been opposed to bikes since my freshman year of college. I discovered that biking was not easy, especially when faced with the near endless seeming hill from south campus to north. Also, it made me look like a drunken old woman or a spindly legged spider…at least more than I usually did.
My scorn continued after I graduated. I moved to the UofA, where parking permits cost more than saffron encased in diamonds. But a bike provided me with an affordable way to get to and from class. My miserly ways overcame my hatred for the contraptions; I bought a bike.
In foolishness, I bought a used bike that needed some work. It was a cruiser, an old Schwinn with front and rear fenders, a fully steel frame (read: fucking heavy) and maybe 16 gears. It seemed perfect. It was cheap, sturdy, and reliable. Except for one thing: it needed a derailleur cable. For those of you who don’t know, the derailleur cable is what changes the gears. Without one, you’ve got a single speed. Lucky me, my bike’s chain was stuck on a high gear. Which meant accelerating was a bitch. On the whole, I did not enjoy riding my bike.
But every once in a while, I would get this euphoric feeling….I loved the wind in my face, the smells of the desert around me, and seeing the houses blur by me. It was weird and rare, but a welcome respite the normal drudgery of my daily commute.
Amidst all this, I met a very nice boy named Eric. We started dating. He got into cycling and bought a bike. A nice one, complete with derailleur cable and Italian brand name. And suddenly, a completely different attitude toward biking was in front of me. He liked riding his bike. It was ‘fun.’
I’m still sort of skeptical about that ‘fun’ part, but Eric has gotten me to start watching the Tour de France. I thought watching professional cycling would be akin to watching golf. Boring. But its not. Its amazing to watch these guys. They’re machines. Their resting heart rates are in the 40s. That’s basically dead. Honestly. And their heart rates when they’re really exerting themselves are in the 180s. They’re not people, they’re robots! They sustain 25mph speeds up mountain highways, like the one in Oak Creek Canyon. On a fucking bike! Its ridiculous. And sort of inspiring.
Its really got me thinking its time for a new bike.

Nostalgia is a bitch

2007-07-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

I miss the past. I miss Flagstaff. After a weekend there the proverbial old days seem even farther away. I saw Gen. Everyone else was gone. And then this morning, little nuances of the past kept popping up. Fraser comments on my bolg this morning. I stumble upon Lobe's myspace page. Andy rhapsodizes about his favorite band, just as he used to. Its all just creeping around in my head and I"m not getting a thing done. I should be packing. I'm moving in a week. Not to Portland like Gen, or even to New Zealand like Chris did, but really just down the street. Its not hard. But I'm sitting here listening to "Growing Pains" and all I can think of is Fraser, Karen and I dancing like crazy hippies and drinking beer and Flag Brew. The beer was the same on Friday night, but instead of shoulder to shoulder dancing drunken fools, the place was packed with yuppie families, reveling in how neat the place was. I miss it the way it used to be. I miss the comeraderie of Flag. How it never mattered who was there and who wasn't...you just had a good time with who was around. There were no plans except for "we're going out tonight...want to come?" We never even had to be doing anything. Just sitting around somewhere talking about whatever was the best time. Where did that go? Away, for sure, and I know people wax poetic about stuff like this, but that doesn't seem right. It just doesn't seem like it should be that hard to find that again, but it seems like "what's lost once is lost forever." I guess all there is is to keep looking, keep having a good time, and the stupidly fun (as in so fun its ridiculous) times come back. At least I still have my Lobe cds.

King of Glory

2007-06-30T23:34:00.001-07:00

I don't really care for his show, but the man can dance and praise God almighty! Can I get an amen??

Starting summer with a bang

2007-05-07T17:21:00.000-07:00

So here's a recap of the past week:

Eric's haircut

My boyfriend's previously glorious man-hair has been shorn. Instead of flowing locks ala pirate style, his hair is now maybe a quarter of an inch long. The change is quite drastic, and while I miss the whole pirate thing, I really like the new look. Grandma does not, however, which brings us to our next topic:

Grandma's surgery
Grandma went in for triple bypass surgery on Friday. We found out she had chronic heart disease about three weeks ago, and since then the entire family has been waiting for her to get fixed up. The surgery was successful, but it took an hour longer than we thought it would. That last hour sucked. Hard. Grandpa was a wreck. But finally the doctor came out and told us the surgery had been successful. Grandma was in the ICU until today. She's been doing great, but she's very frank about a)her distaste for Eric's haircut and b) her readiness to go home. I can't really blame her. I would want to go home too. Hospitals suck. But she should be home by this weekend. Keep your fingers crossed.

Finals
My Greek final was (of course) scheduled the Monday after Grandma's surgery. Last year, Grandpa was in a car accident the day my biggest seminar paper was due and the week before my Latin final. So I was a trifle off my game for finals. This year, its Grandma. Of course I don't blame the g-rents for that; they can't help it that their medical conditions have really shitty timing. But it sucks nonetheless. My test went much better than I anticipated (considering I've spent most of the weekend at the hospital), and I got my paper back with a shiny A on it.

A Raise
I got a raise! Hooray! I still don't have a "career path," something I heard a lot about this weekend. But oh well, a raise is always appreciated.

A visit from a friend
Gen was in town this weekend. I couldn't hang out because of Grandma's surgery, but she and her man-friend stopped by the store on Sunday and I slacked off for a while to talk and catch up. It was awesome to see her, especially since she's moving to Portland in August.

A good week, in all. Grandma's surgery was a little scary, but it turned out great. And everything else has gone swimmingly. Finals are over, I got to see my family and a good friend, and my financial situation got a steroid shot.

Definitely a good way to start the summer

On Rudeness while Driving

2007-02-28T09:13:00.000-07:00

I generally consider myself a good driver. I'm not overly cautious, nor am I dangerously reckless. I also consider myself a considerate driver. If someone has their signal on the change lanes, I'll generally make room for them. If someone's waiting for a parking spot, I won't swoop in and take it. And I never pass on the right. So I hate it when people mistake what I consider to be consideration for rudeness.
Yesterday I was driving to work. Sometimes I'll stop at McDonald's for a tasty sausage mcmuffin with no egg. The McDonald's that I usually patronize is at the corner of Alvernon and Speedway. Being situated at a corner means that the right turn lane into the McDonald's is also the turn lane for the intersection. As I was approaching the turn-in, I saw a cyclist ahead of me. I turned on my turn signal and slowed down so I wouldn't hit him. As I moved into the right lane, I checked my blind spot only to see a silver speeding jeep about to careen into me. I got back into my own lane, but as the jeep passed, the woman driving mouthed a very obvious "fuck you!" to me as she sped by. I was a little shaken by the whole experience, but as I started to think about it more, I was pissed off.
First off, I acknowledge that I should've checked my blind spot earlier. But she had come up so quick that I didn't see her before. I was doing something that I thought was right. Cyclists are traffic too, and there was no way for me to speed up and get around him and still get into the McDonald's. I had to slow down. Also, that's usually just a nice thing to do. Its much easier and less scary for everyone if I just put my foot on the brake pedal rather than cut off a cyclist (who's definitely more vulnerable in a crash) and then slow down to make a turn. So braking was really my only option. But this lady seemed to think that the only reason I was slowing down and getting over was to cut her off. She was so pissed that she had to brake that she didn't even think about why I was doing it. To make matters worse, she probably cut off the cyclist in her rage and that was the very thing I was trying to avoid.
I just wish people would think about why other people are acting the way they are. If I'm slowing down approaching a crosswalk, there's probably something in it, so don't be the asshole and pass me. If I speed up and pass you, maybe I need to make a turn at the next light. If I'm slowing down at a right turn lane, MAYBE THERE"S A FUCKING BIKE THERE! Its not like motorists do stuff to deliberately piss off other motorists, as least the great majority of the time. So just hold your horses and think about what someone else is doing and consider that maybe there's a good reason for it before you scream obscenities at them.

An Evening at the Opera

2007-02-12T17:38:00.001-07:00

So I went to the Opera last night. As a great lover of theatre, and musical theatre at that, I was atwitter with anticipation. The opera was Puccini's "Madama Butterfly," first staged in the early 20th century. It tells the story of a callous American sailor who marries a young Japenese girl who is as faithful as she is beautiful, and then abandons her. I won't go into the details, but its a very tragic story and I'm usually a sucker for tragedy. Its one of the reasons I love studying classics so much. There's just such a poetry to it; as Fraser would say, its epic. So I fully expected a real gut-wrencher.
But opera, it seems, is not for me. As a musician, I can fully appreciate the work and technique and general difficulty of what those singers are doing. They're singing difficult music without amplification mostly at the top of their respective ranges and they're doing laying down...or sitting...or some other position that is not condusive to singing powerfully. So I can fully appreciate that. But damn, is it too much to ask to keep the facial contortions to a minimum?
I suppose so. Given what I just said about the difficulty of performing opera, I suppose I should've just shut up and enjoyed the musical marvel that was in front of me. But all I could think about were the stupid faces the musicians were making. So much so, that it actually distracted me from the story. I just couldn't get worked up about the suffering of someone who looked like a hungry goldfish.
It was definitely fun to get dressed up and go out though. There's so little opportunity to do that in Tucson, so it was fun. I loved wearing my pearls and my fancy new jacket. And the people watching was awesome. Let me just say, feathers and old ladies should not go together.
So, while the evening as a whole was enjoyable, I don't think I'll be attending the opera again any time soon.

At a loss

2007-01-31T11:53:00.000-07:00

Over the summer I got into rock climbing. Its a fun sport, challenging physically and mentally. I freaked out a little bit the first time Eric lowered me from the top of my first route. It was scary, trusting only a little bit of nylon stitched together and a rope to keep me from falling 50 feet to the ground. Its still scary every once in a while. I still get a little thrill when I fall off the wall.
But you get used to it. You learn to trust your equipment and your belayer. You get used to double checking everything: whether your caribiner is locked, if your knot is tied right, if your harness is double-backed on all the buckles like its supposed to be. Because if you don't, well, you could die. So you back everything up, at least twice, more if you can. But shit still happens.
A friend of mine died ice climbing yesterday. He was one of the most experienced climbers I knew. He was even professional for a while. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to make climbing as safe as it can be. And he did too. Chris Hunnicutt was not a sloppy climber. But he was ice climbing and something happened and he fell and he died.

Its just shitty to think about.

A Tribute

2007-01-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

Andy has inspired me. Here are my top ten favorite songs in no particular order:

1. A Case of You - Joni Mitchell
One of the simplest, prettiest songs ever written, and I first heard it when I was 'frightened by the devil, but drawn to those ones that ain't afraid.' It was perfect for that time in my life, and it still resonates. When I hear it, I remember that time and tend to feel as weary as Joni Mitchell sounds. Still a favorite.

2. Adagio for Strings - Samuel Barber
The only song to consistently move me to tears. Enough said.

3. Sarah Mclachlan - Do What You Have to Do
I love Sarah Mclachlan. She's probably my favorite musician ever. This song was and still is a favorite. I still don't quite know what the lyrics mean, "created you a monster, broken by the rule of love..." and at points I'm not sure I even understand them. But lyrics have never meant that much to me and ethos of this song speaks to me more than any words ever did.

4. Dancing Queen - ABBA
This is why certain members of my circle of friends think me devoid of musical taste, but damn, how can you not like this song?? Its purely fluff, but every time I hear those strings and that piano, I am the Dancing Queen.

5. I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt
One of the saddest songs ever written, and the one that got me through my angsty years in high school. What's worse than pretended love? Or the helplessness that goes along with understanding that "I can't make your heart feel something it won't"? Worst feeling ever. And this song nails it on the head.

6. Under African Skies - Paul Simon feat. Linda Ronstadt
Is there a song that does harmony better than this one?? I don't think so. Its just gorgeous. And its got a good beat. And good lyrics. And I think its awesome

7. Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy
Its a song called "Moonlight" and that's how it feels to listen to it and to play it. Like you're playing slivery fingers of white light.

8. Smooth Sailing - Ella Fitzgerald
A song that makes me want to get up and dance and/or sing along every time I hear it. I sing this song in the shower, I hum it under my breath at work and its what I tap my feet to when I'm doing homework. I think the fact that there are no lyrics makes it that much better for me. Ella Fitzgerald doesn't need words to groove.

9. Je Te Veux - Erik Satie
Just a litling little waltz with simple lyrics ("I want you"), but infectious. I want to sing it, I want to listen to it, and I want to dance to it.

10. Just Like a Dream - The Cure
The song that proves that the Cure are not a bunch of goth depressos. How can you write this song, how can you even listen to it without feeling happy and dreamy? Even if the lyrics are depressing (which they're not in this case), the synthesizers at the beginning make this one of the best dance tunes ever, and (sorry gothy Cure fans) not a sad one.

The honorable mention list is too long to even fathom. Thanks for the fun idea Andy!

I'm chicken!

2006-11-18T01:13:00.000-07:00

You Are Chicken

Bah! You're hardly meat. But you are quite popular, and people aspire to taste like you.
You're probably quite skinny and free of vices. Except letting people eat your eggs.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Clearing the air

2006-11-17T20:32:00.000-07:00

So. My laptop got stolen. Three days after I blogged about seeing a drug deal, my laptop got stolen. I guess a lot of people would say I should have seen something like this coming or that I live in a really shitty neighborhood. But I didn't and I don't really. I live in a not-bad neighborhood and who expects their stuff to get stolen in a not-bad neighborhood...or even at all? So it was a complete shock when Marcus called Eric at dinner and said he needed to talk to me (I had forgotten my phone at home). We were at Oregano's celebrating a well-executed choir performance, enjoying our garlic bread. Eric handed me the phone and Marcus told me my computer had been stolen. He said that he was really sorry, but he thought he'd left the back door unlocked and that someone came in, took my laptop (and nothing else) and left. He sounded really solemn and sad and like he was expecting a big scene or hysterics from me. But I felt fine, really. My mom and my sister didn't get how I could be so calm about the whole thing, but really, I didn't feel violated in any way. Someone had looked at my house, found the door unlocked, took the only thing of value he could see, and left. If he had stolen my underwear or slashed my bed apart with a razor or written "die, bitch!" on my wall, then I'd be scared. But this was just a theft of my stuff, not of my person. It sucks, and I'm going to make sure the doors are locked all the fucking time now (like I didn't before!), but to me, this crime isn't threatening, just unfortunate. So that's what happened with my laptop. I guess maybe its time to move.

In other news, for a good laugh, go here

I think I may have just seen a drug deal

2006-11-06T17:17:00.000-07:00

I live on the edge of a nice neighborhood. For those of you familiar with Tucson, I live in Catalina Vista. Its midtown, but with old nice homes full of families and yuppies and people with fancy dogs. But I think, despite that, I just saw a drug deal go down across the street from my house.
A guy pulled up in his car and another man approached him. They exchanged something (I couldn't tell what) and then the guy who approached walked away. The car pulled away and the guy got onto a bike and rode off carrying a large plastic grocery bag which I don't think he had when he approached the car.
I'm usually pretty naive about these things. I drove down Van Buren Street in Phoenix and didn't see a single prostitute. I didn't get it when a guy on the street offered us pot the other night. I usually need these things explained to me. But that was pretty darn conclusive. Even to me.

Shit.

Climbing is life?

2006-10-29T20:29:00.000-07:00

I went climbing tonight. Eric and I have been trying to go every Sunday, just to keep ourselves active and for the last couple of weeks we've been pretty successful at going consistantly. We never really go for very long, since we both get off of work at five and the gym closes at eight, but we can usually get a nice bit of climbing in.
Sometimes, climbing feels great. I get off of the wall, and even if I don't finish a route, it feels good to just get up there and do it. Even when climbing doesn't feel great, its usually at least a good time. But every once in a while, there's a night when everything just feels like shit and tonight was one of those nights. Everything was off. My feet were wrong, my arms were weak and I wouldn't have been able to hang on to a monkey's ass if it had stretched it out and defecated on me. Horrible.
But that's sort of how life has been going lately. Sometimes, its wonderful. I know where I'm going and how to get there. And even when its not great, its at least not horrible. But more and more often, it feels like shit, like I don't quite know what to do with myself. Unsure of what I really want and if I'm doing what I need to get there.
With climbing, I can just take off my shoes and harness, walk away from the wall and wait till next time, when surely it'll be better. But you can't do that in real life. Still, things have to get better, right?

The Second Century

2006-10-09T10:35:00.000-07:00

Last night I did one of the most foolish things think I've ever done. I participated in my second Century Club. For those of you unfamiliar with this prestigious group, a Century Club is drinking 100 shots of beer in 100 minutes. Foolish, yes? I think so. But I've never had a huge problem with foolishness, especially when I think it will be fun foolishness. What I thought would be merely foolish turned into one of the most painful nights in my recent memory.

As I said, this was my second Century Club. The first was in Flagstaff at the House. That was a night of miracles. I, the notorious light-weight, whom Andy once dubbed "a cheap date," whom everyone was sure could only make it to the early twenties, was the last to vomit. PJ, who swears vodka keeps him healthy, was first. It was as if the gods smiled upon my endeavor, lending me the strength to not only finish the Century Club, but also the rest of the keg. And when I did finally vomit, it was Renee, of all people, Renee who hated me like a cat hates mayonnaise, Renee who sat by me and comforted me while we bonded over a mutual romance interest. Truly, a night of miracles.

Last night was a night of horrors. The gods had forsaken me. I began strongly, keeping pace with Kyle and Sam, only slightly more drunk than Karyssa. But as the night went on and the shots tallied, the room became a blur, voices became a swirling din around me and my urge to vomit could not be denied. I made it to 89. 89 ounces of beer in roughly an hour and a half. Everyone thought I was done once I puked. But I rallied. Foolish, yes, but never a quitter. I came back to the table, downed the two shots I had missed, and finished with the rest. I scorned the gods who had left me with only 11 shots to go. I laughed in their faces and, in typical omnipotent fashion, they made me pay. By the time I had finished the remaining shots, I could hardly walk. Kyle calculated my blood alcohol content to be roughly .20. Eric led me to the car, buckled me in and took me home. We had to stop twice on the way home so I could puke. When I got home, I spent two hours paying for my defiance. Two hours, sprawled in front of the toilet, Eric behind me with toilet paper and a glass of water. Two hours of shaking and shivering on the bathroom floor before Eric half picked me up and took me to bed.

Surprisingly I was fine at work the next day. I didn't have a heinous hangover, but I felt tired and sluggish, and I had a tender spot on my chest where I had hit the toilet so many times.

I will not be so foolish again any time soon.

The President of Pakistan

2006-09-27T21:11:00.001-07:00

I like the President of Pakistan. I say this knowing nothing about him except for what I've seen on the Daily Show. But on the Daily Show he was self-possessed, witty, and articulate, despite being offered twinkies by John Stewart(of course, if John Stewart offered me twinkies, I'd do my best to be witty and articulate as well...but I'm not the President of Pakistan). The crowning moment was when Mr. Stewart asked Mr. President of Pakistan who would win an election in Pakistan right now: George W. Bush or Osama Bin Laden. Ballsy, Mr. Stewart. Ballsy. Mr. President of Pakistan answered the only way he could: "I think they'd both lose miserably" (or something very close to that.)

Well done, Mr. President of Pakistan. Well done.

Why Kevin St. Laurent is a god among dancers

2006-09-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

Kevin St. Laurent & Laura Keat - Montpellier Swing Dance Festival 2006
I don't really care for the partner. She's good, but only because she's dancing with one of the most inspired dancers ever (although I will say this: if she's the same girl who won the 05' PHXLX Solo Charleston Comp, she's got some serious moves on her own...this just isn't my favorite display of them). He's just brilliant!
Keywords: lindy hop, swing dancing, jitterbug


Kevin & Frida with Zack & Carla - BarSwingOna 2003 (Barcelona, Spain) Nobody's even watching Zack & Carla!! How can you with all that fun and energy going on between Frida and Kevin?!! One of the coolest obviously lead-follow non-choreographed dances ever. Keywords: lindy hop, swing dancing, jitterbug

Guns Germs and Steel My Ass

2006-07-18T17:46:00.000-07:00

Once again I'm attempting to read Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. Once again, I find myself wanting to throw the book across a room like a crying baby. Ugh. I can't even get through the introduction without shaking my fist in anger! Mr. Diamond proposes to answer the question of why european powers were able to conquer basically the entire world and why the vanquished cultures of Africa, Indonesia, North and South America and Australia still feel the socio-economic effects of that conquest. He attempts to do this by using a New Guinea as a sort of test or model site. That's my first problem. History isn't a science. History doesn't work on tests or models. It just doesn't work. It can't. Every historical event is both specific and ephemeral. What once was is gone forever and you can never recreate it in some sort of 'test'. Comparing an event to a model is to necessarily hinder your understanding of it, since you are bound by the model. So testing is out. So is modeling. They don't work for history. And the study of the conquest of the world is, of course, a historical one. It happened in the past over a rather long period of time.
That's the other thing...Mr. Diamond seems to assume that the conquest of the New World, Africa, and Australia all happened at roughly the same time with the same effect. Its simply not the case. You can bet your ass that the British convicts that first colonated Australia left a considerably different mark on Aboriginal society than the Spanish conquistadors did on South America. So what's the point of comparing the two? They happened at considerably different times under considerably different circumstances. Comparative history has its place, but don't use apples to understand oranges.
There's one other thing that irks me about this book, and that's Mr. Diamond's assumption that all european conquests ended in cultural loss. To some extent, I suppose that's true. Loss is sort of part of any war of conquest in terms of people, infrastructure, indentity and culture. But the loss of culture isn't isolated to just the conquered. The conquerors are just affected by cultural exchange as the conquered. South America is again the perfect example. Just how Spanish is Mexico? How Portuguese is Brazil? Sure, they speak the language of their conquering people, but who associates g-string bikinis and white sand beaches with Portugal?!?!
I guess that leads me to my one concession for Guns, Germs and Steel : that geography really does play a part in how history moves, that there are other forces besides those of humans that influence how history unfolds. I like that. I like that he realizes that and has caused others to realize that. But these idealogical gaps between he and I make it hard for me to read his book. I have a feeling I'd feel the same way about his book Collapse. So I'm going to put Guns, Germs, and Steel away for now and maybe someday I'll be able to get past chapter one without wanting to punch somebody in the throat.

And if you want to read a cool book on ecological history, read Ecological Imperialism by Crosby. Much better.

Ah, Procrastination

2006-07-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

Here's a list of things I have to do either today before 11:30 am or after 8:00 pm:
1.Call my landlord and potentially resign my lease.
Called my landlord. Rent is going up. Didn't tell me until two days before my lease is up and worse, showed now signs of planning to tell me.
2. Do enough laundry for the weekend. Finished, but my pants are still wet.
3. Get my car's oil changed, its brakes checked, and its tires rotated
Finished, except for the brakes. But who needs brakes anyway? I live on the edge!
4. Think of and get Eric another birthday present
Shit.

Its now 8:30 am. I think I'm pretty much fucked.

Updated 11:31 pm

Outside Climbing by Moonlight Kicks Serious Ass

2006-07-12T01:09:00.000-07:00

Tonight was my first bit of climbing outside. It was awesome. Just really easy stuff, nothing harder than a 5.4, I think. But its got me thinking about actually buying shoes and a harness and stuff. And Kyle maybe even has a harness that he'll give me! Sweet! Now my forearms hurt and my shoulders are all tight, and to be perfectly honest, I feel a little shaky, but its in that good I-just- worked-out sort of way. And it wasn't nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Before I got onto the rock, I got that little kick of adrenaline that I always got before a performance. Everything got all shaky for a minute and then Eric asked if I was ready (he was belaying me) and I was, so off I went! And all the shakiness was gone. And I finished both climbs! I wasn't quite sure what to do at the end of the climb. At the gym you just lean back and let your belayer let you down, but outside its a lot more scary because you can't always see the ground below you and you have to watch for rocks jutting out. But it was fun. I did the same thing...just leaned back and walked backward down the wall. What made it even cooler was that this was all at night! So everything was lit either by the full moon or by my headlamp. Sweet! Eric got some really cool pictures of us and the landscapes. Mine are ok, but nothing special I don't think. And besides, pictures don't really capture how cool it was to be out there on the rock in the moonlight. Everything look amazing and we didn't even need headlamps on the way back up. Eric and I were starving afterwards (of course) so we stopped and got some doughnuts. Now were home and tired, and I think its time to go to bed. But damn...what a cool night.

2006-07-09T23:04:00.000-07:00

That last post should have been dated today, July 9, 2006. Whoops.

Let the Long Silence End!

2006-06-29T11:35:00.000-07:00

So. Its been many moons since I last posted. I apologize. I was going to do one epic post to completely bring everything up to date, but it turns out I'm lazy. Here's the highlights:

1. Eric and I took an awesome mini-roadtrip to southeastern Arizona. We hit Sonoita, Bisbee, Montezuma's Pass, Parker Canyon Lake, Chricauhua National Monument, Portal, and New Mexico all in one day. Good times.

A self-portrait at the beginning of our trip

A lovely picture of Eric

a particularly large and frightening speciman of cow, one of many that were present on
our trip through Sonoita

Parker Canyon Lake

Eric almost falling into Parker Canyon Lake

Eric answering Nature's call. Note the classic superhero position.

Looking west (I think) from Montezuma's Pass. Check out the fire-retardant red stuff along the ridge to the right.
The entrance to the Chiricahuas from the east. Fucking beautiful.
The rock formations in Chricahua National Monument

We stopped to see the Thing, a cheesy roadside attraction east of Tucson. It houses a Very Special Exibit depicting ancient forms of torture. A truly one of a kind expirience.

A good trip, all in all.

2. I've started rock climbing. No pictures yet, but since I've discovered that people often do silly things worth comitting to digital memory, I've started carrying my camera around. I'm sure pictures will be forthcoming. In short, rock climbing is challenging both mentally and physically and it involves swinging from ropes. What could be more fun??

3. Kyle, one of my good friends here in Tucson, has gotten me into UFC fighting. For those of you who don't know what it is, Ultimate Fighting is a mix of wrestling, jujistu, judo, boxing, and kickboxing. I never thought I'd be the type to get into something so violent (my early obsession with Street Fighter II should have clued me in) but as soon as there's an elbow to the face, I get all giddy and excited. Last night was UFC 61, Ken Shamrock vs. Tito Ortiz. Now, usually I think Tito Ortiz is a huge douchebag. And he is a douchebag. An enormous one. But Ken Shamrock is a bigger one. So I wanted Tito to kick his ass. Hard. But I was robbed. After a minute and a half and after five, maybe six blows to the head, they yanked Tito off Ken and called the fight A MINUTE AND A HALF! Very disappointing. At least Ken Shamrock got his face bashed in five or six times. Click here for more details

4. Eric has started to teach me to drive stick. Its very jerky.

5. Monsoons have started. Pictures forthcoming. Yay for rain!

Programming

2006-06-13T16:00:00.000-07:00

My first foray into writing (or in this case rewriting) code. My head hurts and the stupid font won't change.

Also I have completed none (0) of the things on my previous post's list.

I'm going to take a nap.

Another Lazy Day Off

2006-06-13T13:03:00.000-07:00

I love days off. I just wish someone else had Tuesday off. Instead of joyous days of fun (despite the heat), I'm sitting here in my apartment, putting off laundry and watching swing videos. There are several things I could be doing that could even be construed as 'fun' (laundry of course being excluded) such as but not limited to:

Spending my Borders giftcard
Playing Minesweeper
Hanging out at Bookmans
Eating an Eegee
Writing to Fraser
Playing with my new mp3 player/ jump drive

However, none of these things sound very thrilling right now, so instead I'm blogging, which is a damn sight better than all the things I should be doing:

Laundry (going commando is not an option)
Mopping (only slightly less repulsive than laundry)
Returning my enormous stack of books leftover from this semester's research to the library
Visiting Grandpa
Paying rent (ok, that one I'll definitely get done today)
Cleaning out under my bed
Taking my old clothes to Goodwill
Getting my brakes checked

So here I am, alone and procrastinating, waiting for someone to get off of work so I can go play. What's especially frustrating is that last night was a very good time. Eric, MikeE, his girlfriend Chrissy and his brother Andy and I all went driving around. It was great...we took Eric's X-terra over a seriously fun (read: seriously damaging) dirt road about 8 times and then just drove around Vail, looking for hills to speed over and just talking. It reminded me of times in Flagstaff when Andy and PJ and I would just go driving, usually with beer, and usually with PJ doing something stupid and reckless. Take away reckless PJ and the beer, and that was last night. Good times.

1984

2006-06-05T16:02:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading 1984. Wow. Talk about depressing. This isn't my first foray into the works of Mr. Orwell, so maybe I shouldn't be so surpised at his political cynicism (Animal Farm practically made me cry....ok, not practically, literally), but damn that's a sad book. I realize its supposed to frighten you, that its supposed to make you question and examine your government so that sort of thing never happens. But jesus, coulnd'nt there have been something? The answer, of course, is no. That would diminish the impact of the warning. In order for the message to really sink into the reader, there can be no way out for the hero. The result is frigtening of course, but that's the point, isn't it?

I just hate feeling frightened and disturbed after finishing a book. I know that not all books are going to be rosy endings and ride-off-into-the-sunset-for-another-adventure types of reads. I don't think that they should be either. Literature reminds us of things that we forget in the daily drudge of life. But I feel frightened and disturbed enough in my daily life already...its as though Mr. Orwell is imposing the same dominating fear on me in order to be effective that the Party imposes on all its members. And I don't like the feeling. Again, I suppose that's the point of 1984, to show what a heinous thing government can turn into and realize and cherish what we have already. So now I'm going to read something more uplifting and optimistic.

Crime and Punishment, here I come!

Hilarious Things Customers Say

2006-06-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

As my first post, I'd like to tell a story.

Yesterday, I was helping a older gentleman in a Boy Scouts of America uniform with some cordage. For those of you who don't know, I work at a backpacking/camping/traveling institution quite well known here in Tucson. We carry bulk cordage that can be cut to the customer's desired length. So, as I was measuring out Mr. Boy Scouts' cordage, I asked where he was going. He answered that he was leading a leadership workshop to train new scout leaders and (in a completely serious manner, worthy of a catholic bishop saying mass) that he "didn't do the little boys any more." He "trained the adults how to do the little boys." Working retail has its downfalls. If I were working at a bar, I could have rejoined "I thought the catholics had a monopoly on that sort of thing" or some other off color remark, as I had wished to do. Unfortunately, all I could do was nod, cut his 4mm spectra cord and send him up to the register. The redeeming joy of retail: Sharing hilarious stories of customer comments with co-workers, and now with you.