Well, we all know what today is. And most of us know exactly where we were and/or what we were doing when we first heard the news. I still remember how pristine the weather was on that day: sunny, clear, temperatures in the 70s. It’s such a cliché, but it really was a perfect day. I was 27 and working in Bethesda, 10 miles from the Pentagon. I had only been at work for a few minutes when the news broke.
My journal entry from that day:
11 September 2001, Tuesday
Christ, it is a waking nightmare. I don’t even know where to begin. That’s why I am following up this entry with scores of printed-out pages from CNN, MSNBC, and BBC News. Plus, it is sad to say, but I have to keep in mind the historical implications of this day, and how important it is for me to capture this story in my journal for posterity.
Today has been completely dominated by what the news sources are calling “America Under Attack.” I have scarcely done any work all day long. This day—which is being ranked as containing the worst terrorist activity on US soil since Pearl Harbor—will be the kind of day about which people ask, “Where were you when terrorists attacked America?,” just like they ask, “Where were you when the Challenger exploded? Where were you when the Oklahoma City Bombing took place?”
I hadn’t been at work very long this morning when I heard Barbara talking on the phone and saying something like, “Oh a second plane hit the World Trade Center?” I went over to her office and asked what was going on. She told me that news reports were saying that a plane crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers, but a friend of hers had just informed her that, in reality, two planes hit the towers. I told Janet the news (she had been half-listening to our conversation) and I was going to tell Carolinda the news as well when Marsha got on the loudspeaker. I’m not sure, I think she told us flat-out that two planes (believed to be hijacked; later this was confirmed) struck the World Trade Center (one crashing into each tower). She definitely invited us to go to the conference room and watch the unfolding news story on TV.
A good chunk of the staff gathered around the TV, watching live CNN coverage. The second plane had already struck the second tower by that point, but the towers were still standing. In slo-mo they repeatedly showed video footage of the plane crashing into the tower. There were gasps all around. People came and went; I stayed for maybe a half hour, awestruck. Actually, I ended up spending most of the morning in the conference room, minus a break to grimly celebrate Dawn’s birthday in Pubs, and to periodically check my voice mail and email messages. I sent a group email to everyone initially, too, because I wasn’t sure who had yet heard the news. Both Gates and Angela left voice mail messages for me, and Missy emailed me to say that she had been trying to get through to me but all the circuits were busy. I phoned Mom at work, because I wasn’t sure if she knew what was going on, since they are so absorbed in transcribing medical reports. I was so worried about Dave—it was announced that the Sears Tower had been evacuated as a precautionary measure, and I was convinced that it was going to be bombed before he could get out. Fortunately he emailed Angela and me later and told us he was fine.
Oh yes, and not long after a bunch of us returned to Pubs from the conference room for the first time, Lynda emerged from her office, looking stunned, and announced that a third hijacked plane crashed into the Pentagon. We stood around her office, listening to the news reports on the radio. Rumors began flying that there was a fire on the Mall, too, and we returned to the conference room.
As the news unfolded throughout the morning, things got worse and worse. Namely, the second WTC tower to be hit collapsed in a massive implosion. This was several minutes after the plane struck it. Maybe a half hour after the tower collapsed, the first WTC tower to be hit by a plane also collapsed. We were watching the news as it fell, and there were universal gasps of horror. Carolinda and Dawn were blowing their noses and dabbing their eyes. News reports were saying that people had been spotted jumping from the towers prior to their collapse, because they were so desperate to escape. There were actually a lot of false news reports in the beginning—a car bomb exploded outside of the State Department; the FBI was keeping their eye on a supposedly hijacked plane that was circling Dulles and heading for the Pentagon, even though the Pentagon had already been struck; there had been an explosion at the Capitol; various planes were unaccounted for. In the end, the terrorist attacks were limited to the two WTC towers, the Pentagon, and another American passenger flight that crashed near Pittsburgh. Rumors are now flying that someone on that flight called 911 on his cell phone and reported that they were being hijacked, and the US subsequently shot down the plane. I’m not sure if that’s true or not.
At 1pm [the office] ordered pizzas for the staff and many of us gathered in the conference room to eat and watch continuing footage. By then things had calmed down a bit…the news wasn’t filled with the initial chaotic frenzy of the morning, when rumors were flying (even CNN was reporting some of the false rumors as fact) and when the tragedy kept compounding. I haven’t watched the news since our pizza lunch, although you can be damn sure I’ll be watching it tonight.
What a horrible, devastating—and horribly memorable—day…
This morning, on the news, Hilary Clinton said that in this post-9/11 world, we are safer but not safe enough. I couldn’t agree more. And this creates such a paradox, because although I want to be safer, I also don’t want my civil liberties to be peeled away. The Patriot Act makes me flinch. The wiretapping legislation that Bush was trying to push through makes me queasy. I hate the idea of the government monitoring my library records and my phone calls. I hate the idea of being considered suspicious because I work for an animal protection organization and because I’ve done three staunchly liberal marches on Washington. I have nothing to hide, but that doesn’t mean I want Big Brother peeping into my life. I worry about the slippery path between plucking away one or two civil liberties and stripping them all away. Because, you know, terrorism can come just as easily from your government as it can from suicidal fundamentalists.
Backtracking a bit, it is both interesting and disheartening to think about how things have changed since 9/11. The US really can divide life into the categories of Before 9/11 and After 9/11. I mean, things are fundamentally the same—it’s not like we’re all walking around in biohazard suits and using retina scanners to enter buildings. We don’t have barcodes tattooed on our foreheads just yet. But 9/11 opened up a whole new landscape and language, and I marvel at the fact that my 2-year-old niece will never know a world without those changes.
Five years ago, there was no Department of Homeland Security. There were no color-coded threat alerts. People didn’t take off their shoes when going through airport security. If air marshals existed at all, they were few and far between. Guantánamo Bay was just a nondescript US Naval Station. Terrorism fears among the general American public, if they existed at all, sure didn’t include the outrageous scenario of using a passenger aircraft as a missile. Not even Hollywood thought of that one. Hate crimes against Muslims were low. Abu Ghraib? Hmmm? What’s that?
Back then I worked across the street from the National Institutes of Health and the National Naval Medical Center, both of which were essentially wide open to the public. I would stroll over to the National Library of Medicine whenever I needed to look up an article for work. It was a lovely stroll through a wide grassy lawn speckled with weeping willow trees. Donating blood meant simply driving up to the Clinical Center, parking my car, giving blood, and leaving. Coworkers and I would sometimes casually grab a bite to eat at the McDonald’s on the grounds of the Medical Center. After 9/11—no more. Giant fences now encircle both properties. Checkpoints must be passed through. You must have an ID and a reason for being there. It’s understandable, but still sad, because whenever I start to trick myself into thinking that things are back to normal, there it is: proof to the contrary. Proof that five years ago there was a shift in our culture, our government, our fears. Things became darker and stayed darker.
About three weeks after the attacks, I finally made it to the Pentagon. A tornado had struck my apartment and I was crashing with Angela in Arlington as I waited for my insurance company to find me a temporary apartment. We had errands to run and decided to drive by the Pentagon, which was still black and crushed, still wielding an enormous American flag over the damaged wall like a Band-Aid on a necrotic leg. Sobering, to say the least. As was Ground Zero when I visited there in February 2004 and April 2006.
Today all victims of terrorism—those in Iraq, Israel, Palestine, Belfast, London, Bali, America, India, Madrid, Afghanistan, on and on—remain in my thoughts.
song heard most recently before posting: Caoineadh Cu Chulainn—Davy Spillane
Monday, September 11, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
12 years
Today marks 12 years (!) since I departed—with frosty terror arcing through my veins—for my year abroad. Ach! Such a speedy passage of time! Although my year in London wasn’t perfect, it was still, hands down, the most superb of my four college years.
I’m grateful for the chance to go back later this month, but I have to say, finding a decent hotel was an ordeal and a half. London hotels are too expensive! That’s assuming you want a hotel that isn’t caked in filth and run by assholes. I hunted and hunted until I finally found a small and economical family-run hotel in King’s Cross which got rave reviews on TripAdvisor.com. Hopefully I’ll get a confirmation receipt soon.
My workload this weekend was minimal, so I’ve had a lot of time to just relax, read, update my website, and cruise through some DVDs. I think I’ll take the cats into the yard for a bit this afternoon, too, because the weather is stellar!
song heard most recently before posting: Don Giovanni A Cenar Teco—WA Mozart
I’m grateful for the chance to go back later this month, but I have to say, finding a decent hotel was an ordeal and a half. London hotels are too expensive! That’s assuming you want a hotel that isn’t caked in filth and run by assholes. I hunted and hunted until I finally found a small and economical family-run hotel in King’s Cross which got rave reviews on TripAdvisor.com. Hopefully I’ll get a confirmation receipt soon.
My workload this weekend was minimal, so I’ve had a lot of time to just relax, read, update my website, and cruise through some DVDs. I think I’ll take the cats into the yard for a bit this afternoon, too, because the weather is stellar!
song heard most recently before posting: Don Giovanni A Cenar Teco—WA Mozart
Friday, September 08, 2006
more questions, more answers
If you were a particular style or genre of music, what would you be and why?
Holocaust music—dark, sorrowful, slightly tinged with glinting light.
When I first saw _______, I felt _________.
clouds beneath me while riding for the first time an airplane… confused (I thought the clouds were the ocean, and that it had somehow stopped moving.)
My friends consider me an expert in __________.
Ummm...probably self-injury issues and anosmia issues.
If you were a retail store, which would you be? In other words, which retail store’s atmosphere and stock best describes your personality?
Zap’s in Lancaster, PA. Dark, cluttered with both cool and ugly things, unique, always full of surprises.
What is one wild, spontaneous thing that you would like to do to your appearance, if you were brave enough to do it?
Get my hair cropped. Maybe get another nose ring (it’s wilder this time around because I’m an adult professional, not a college student, like I was before).
Do you remember your first celebrity crush and your first “ordinary” crush? If so, who were they and roughly how old were you?
Celebrity crush: Shaun Cassidy, when I was 4. Ordinary crush: I think Mark Daigle, in first grade. I wrote him a love letter that his parents treasured like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls. I fell for him after he came to our class’s Halloween party dressed as a vampire. (Sexy!)
Any normal celebrity crushes?
John Krasinski, Jake Epstein, Jake Webber, Hal Sparks, Michael Ian Black, Mo Rocca, Hugh Laurie, Colin Firth, Paul Rudd, Phil Keoghan, Julian McMahon, Tori Amos.
Any embarrassing celebrity crushes?
Piers Morgan, Billy Bush, John Simm.
“I may seem ______ but I’m really ______.”
snobby … shy and introverted
Quick! List the first memory that pops into your head!
Almost passing out in the Hermitage. I knew to avoid the tap water in Russia, and I really made an effort to do so. Yet somehow it didn’t occur to me that my morning coffee would be made with tap water, and before I knew it, I had the raging shits. So the raging shits, when coupled with how hot and crowded the museum was, led to me almost passing out. I had to sit down on one of the grand staircases and put my head between my knees for a while.
If you could stick an old enemy in the ass with something sharp, what would the sharp object be?
A filthy, rusty, feces-encrusted scythe.
What do you take for granted?
My health, and my friends’ and family’s health. I also take for granted how lucky I’ve been with averting tragedy and loss. And I take for granted my safety—the fact that, on any given day, I most likely won’t get killed in a terrorist’s suicide bomb, or have to spend my time cowering in an air-raid shelter, or worry that maniacs with axes bent on ethnic cleansing will kick down my door.
What have you squandered the most in your life?
Time. I’ve wasted so much time, always thinking that things can wait until later, and one day I’m going to stop and realize that I’m old and it’s too late.
Which of your skills needs to be worked on the most at this time?
My meeting-new-people skills.
What joy do you miss most?
The joy of summer when school was out and three months of doing nothing but having fun, being lazy, and exploring stretched in front of me.
What do you never leave home without?
My keys. And since leaving home generally entails going somewhere in my car, I also never leave home without either an iPod or a CD in my hand, so I’ll have music during my drive.
Which ideas and structures have you outgrown in the past few years?
The idea that the world is safe and can be trusted. The idea that I need a romantic relationship in order to be validated.
What music would you like to have played at your funeral?
Listen up, people: I already have a funeral folder on my iPod! So you’re set! Well, okay, it’s really a mix that I made for my cat when he died, with a few additions thrown in over the years, but it will carry over to my death as well.
Which month best describes your temperament/personality?
Once upon a time I was February—cold, dark, miserable, and I exhausted people’s patience. But now I’m March/April. Sometimes sunny and warm, sometimes dark and bitterly cold. Ascending towards spring, but still rooted in winter.
What would be in your fantasy house?
A big screened-in porch that is semi-circular, lots of large windows, an outside hot tub (sorry, I can’t help it—I love my sister’s hot tub), window seats, some built-in bookcases, a few fireplaces, hardwood floors, French doors, window boxes full of flowers. Maybe a glassed-in sunroom. I want an old house with character—wainscoting and elegant woodwork, nooks and crannies, a secret passage, maybe an old set of servants’ stairs. A garden full of wildflowers with stone paths and benches. A big attic. A sauna. A tire swing in the yard. A playroom for the cats.
What do you wish someone had told you before you found out for yourself?
That even though you want something and/or someone desperately for years, and you can’t see yourself in any other setting but the setting of that dream, it still ain’t necessarily going to happen.
Have you ever gone skinny-dipping? If not, would you ever go skinny-dipping?
I’ve gone skinny-dipping 2-3 times. I loved it and would definitely do it again. The first time was the most magical. It was the night before I returned to college to start my sophomore year.
Favorite subject in high school and/or college.
Honors English and French in high school; On the Road and Gothic Literature in college.
Least favorite subject in high school and/or college.
Math!!! I hate math with a passion, and I’m not nuts about science, either. So in high school I loathed algebra, geometry, biology, and chemistry. In college I didn’t have to take math, so I’d have to say that religious classes were my least favorite. Oh, and Public Speaking. I didn’t like Mass Communication Law or Logical and Rhetorical Analysis, either.
What do you think is the most pointless holiday?
Columbus Day. We don’t even get the day off work! And the guy wasn’t even the first person to “discover” America! And he kinda-sorta kick-started the Indian genocide!
What is your favorite piece of furniture that you own?
My wrought iron headboard. I had it custom-made by a blacksmith in Mahopac, New York.
“I really should stop ____.”
Eating unhealthy food, worrying so much about things I can’t control, working myself into an early grave.
“Life would be meaningless without _____.”
Music, books, friendship, pets, art, introspection, nature, darkness.
“I wish I would have never ____.”
Taken the sticky-fingered route, gotten thrown out of England, spent years pining for unattainable boys, stopped studying French.
Do you have any rituals/routines that you perform during the course of the day?
My whole morning is a ritual. That’s the only way I can get my lazy, unmotivated ass functioning in the morning and out the door so I’m not late to work. I’m like a pre-programmed robot in the morning.
If you could become a superstar in any realm, which would you prefer?
I’d want to be a literary superstar! I’d want to write a stack of metaphorical, richly symbolic, enigmatic, dark novels and poetry compilations that people adore! I’d have fans stalk me and people stampede at my book-signings! And I’d want to create modern sculptures that would incite fierce bidding frenzies at art galleries!
Favorite hot drink.
Hot chocolate with whipped cream.
What do you love most about your job? What do you hate the most?
I love my coworkers and hate hearing about acts of barbarism against animals on a daily basis.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
My romantic side wants to say yes, but really, I don’t think it’s possible. Lust at first sight, yes. Like at first sight, yes. A spark of chemistry, the feeling of a strong connection at first sight, yes. But love takes work, and to say that two people can fall in love immediately undermines the special work other people have put into their relationships.
Favorite restaurant(s):
All-time favorite: the Dixie, in Lebanon, PA (which has sadly closed). I still have dreams about it sometimes! Pier Restaurant (a chippie in Greenwich, England). Silver Diner. Jaleo. Olde Hansa in Tallinn.
“In the year 2001 I _____.”
Lost my beloved cat Shoah, adopted my cat Freyja, got a brand new car, watched in horror as the events of 9/11 unfolded, took a business trip to San Antonio, got displaced after a tornado slammed into my apartment.
“In the year 2002 I _____.”
Stopped wearing underwear, moved to a new apartment, got a new job, swam in the ocean for the first time in years.
“In the year 2003 I _____.”
Went to Scotland, attended three concerts (Peter Gabriel, American Idol, Simon & Garfunkel), attended two friends’ weddings (and was a bridesmaid in one of them).
“In the year 2004 I _____.”
Turned 30, became an aunt for the first and only time, saw Morrissey in concert, went to my first strip club.
“In the year 2005 I _____.”
Went to Finland, Estonia, Russia, and Iceland; started freelancing up a storm.
I like to sleep _______.
As long as physically possible. In my own bed.
I wish I had _______.
Enough money to buy a house!!! Plane tickets to various destinations around the world. And an adorably geeky boyfriend.
One thing I have that I wish I didn’t have is _____.
Anosmia. Oh, and ridiculously noisy neighbors. And debt. Okay, so much for naming only one thing…
I live for _______.
Vegging, sleeping, reading, hanging out with my cats, being silly with my friends.
Is revenge always a good thing?
Everybody’s going to expect me to say yes! But really, I don’t think revenge is always the best answer. It does help you feel better most of the time, but it can also make you look like a small, pathetic fool, which leaves you feeling worse than you did before you sought revenge. I try to follow the old adage “The best revenge is living well.” I don’t always succeed, but I try.
I can’t believe I _____.
Haven’t been felled by some kind of brain or skull injury/ailment yet. I guess because of all the problems I’ve had with my head, I’ve got this notion that I’m destined to experience some kind of trauma in that arena (cerebral hemorrhage, stroke, brain tumor, brain injury, etc). It doesn’t help that brain tumors run rampant in my dad’s maternal line.
song heard most recently before posting: Lonelily—Damien Rice
Holocaust music—dark, sorrowful, slightly tinged with glinting light.
When I first saw _______, I felt _________.
clouds beneath me while riding for the first time an airplane… confused (I thought the clouds were the ocean, and that it had somehow stopped moving.)
My friends consider me an expert in __________.
Ummm...probably self-injury issues and anosmia issues.
If you were a retail store, which would you be? In other words, which retail store’s atmosphere and stock best describes your personality?
Zap’s in Lancaster, PA. Dark, cluttered with both cool and ugly things, unique, always full of surprises.
What is one wild, spontaneous thing that you would like to do to your appearance, if you were brave enough to do it?
Get my hair cropped. Maybe get another nose ring (it’s wilder this time around because I’m an adult professional, not a college student, like I was before).
Do you remember your first celebrity crush and your first “ordinary” crush? If so, who were they and roughly how old were you?
Celebrity crush: Shaun Cassidy, when I was 4. Ordinary crush: I think Mark Daigle, in first grade. I wrote him a love letter that his parents treasured like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls. I fell for him after he came to our class’s Halloween party dressed as a vampire. (Sexy!)
Any normal celebrity crushes?
John Krasinski, Jake Epstein, Jake Webber, Hal Sparks, Michael Ian Black, Mo Rocca, Hugh Laurie, Colin Firth, Paul Rudd, Phil Keoghan, Julian McMahon, Tori Amos.
Any embarrassing celebrity crushes?
Piers Morgan, Billy Bush, John Simm.
“I may seem ______ but I’m really ______.”
snobby … shy and introverted
Quick! List the first memory that pops into your head!
Almost passing out in the Hermitage. I knew to avoid the tap water in Russia, and I really made an effort to do so. Yet somehow it didn’t occur to me that my morning coffee would be made with tap water, and before I knew it, I had the raging shits. So the raging shits, when coupled with how hot and crowded the museum was, led to me almost passing out. I had to sit down on one of the grand staircases and put my head between my knees for a while.
If you could stick an old enemy in the ass with something sharp, what would the sharp object be?
A filthy, rusty, feces-encrusted scythe.
What do you take for granted?
My health, and my friends’ and family’s health. I also take for granted how lucky I’ve been with averting tragedy and loss. And I take for granted my safety—the fact that, on any given day, I most likely won’t get killed in a terrorist’s suicide bomb, or have to spend my time cowering in an air-raid shelter, or worry that maniacs with axes bent on ethnic cleansing will kick down my door.
What have you squandered the most in your life?
Time. I’ve wasted so much time, always thinking that things can wait until later, and one day I’m going to stop and realize that I’m old and it’s too late.
Which of your skills needs to be worked on the most at this time?
My meeting-new-people skills.
What joy do you miss most?
The joy of summer when school was out and three months of doing nothing but having fun, being lazy, and exploring stretched in front of me.
What do you never leave home without?
My keys. And since leaving home generally entails going somewhere in my car, I also never leave home without either an iPod or a CD in my hand, so I’ll have music during my drive.
Which ideas and structures have you outgrown in the past few years?
The idea that the world is safe and can be trusted. The idea that I need a romantic relationship in order to be validated.
What music would you like to have played at your funeral?
Listen up, people: I already have a funeral folder on my iPod! So you’re set! Well, okay, it’s really a mix that I made for my cat when he died, with a few additions thrown in over the years, but it will carry over to my death as well.
Which month best describes your temperament/personality?
Once upon a time I was February—cold, dark, miserable, and I exhausted people’s patience. But now I’m March/April. Sometimes sunny and warm, sometimes dark and bitterly cold. Ascending towards spring, but still rooted in winter.
What would be in your fantasy house?
A big screened-in porch that is semi-circular, lots of large windows, an outside hot tub (sorry, I can’t help it—I love my sister’s hot tub), window seats, some built-in bookcases, a few fireplaces, hardwood floors, French doors, window boxes full of flowers. Maybe a glassed-in sunroom. I want an old house with character—wainscoting and elegant woodwork, nooks and crannies, a secret passage, maybe an old set of servants’ stairs. A garden full of wildflowers with stone paths and benches. A big attic. A sauna. A tire swing in the yard. A playroom for the cats.
What do you wish someone had told you before you found out for yourself?
That even though you want something and/or someone desperately for years, and you can’t see yourself in any other setting but the setting of that dream, it still ain’t necessarily going to happen.
Have you ever gone skinny-dipping? If not, would you ever go skinny-dipping?
I’ve gone skinny-dipping 2-3 times. I loved it and would definitely do it again. The first time was the most magical. It was the night before I returned to college to start my sophomore year.
Favorite subject in high school and/or college.
Honors English and French in high school; On the Road and Gothic Literature in college.
Least favorite subject in high school and/or college.
Math!!! I hate math with a passion, and I’m not nuts about science, either. So in high school I loathed algebra, geometry, biology, and chemistry. In college I didn’t have to take math, so I’d have to say that religious classes were my least favorite. Oh, and Public Speaking. I didn’t like Mass Communication Law or Logical and Rhetorical Analysis, either.
What do you think is the most pointless holiday?
Columbus Day. We don’t even get the day off work! And the guy wasn’t even the first person to “discover” America! And he kinda-sorta kick-started the Indian genocide!
What is your favorite piece of furniture that you own?
My wrought iron headboard. I had it custom-made by a blacksmith in Mahopac, New York.
“I really should stop ____.”
Eating unhealthy food, worrying so much about things I can’t control, working myself into an early grave.
“Life would be meaningless without _____.”
Music, books, friendship, pets, art, introspection, nature, darkness.
“I wish I would have never ____.”
Taken the sticky-fingered route, gotten thrown out of England, spent years pining for unattainable boys, stopped studying French.
Do you have any rituals/routines that you perform during the course of the day?
My whole morning is a ritual. That’s the only way I can get my lazy, unmotivated ass functioning in the morning and out the door so I’m not late to work. I’m like a pre-programmed robot in the morning.
If you could become a superstar in any realm, which would you prefer?
I’d want to be a literary superstar! I’d want to write a stack of metaphorical, richly symbolic, enigmatic, dark novels and poetry compilations that people adore! I’d have fans stalk me and people stampede at my book-signings! And I’d want to create modern sculptures that would incite fierce bidding frenzies at art galleries!
Favorite hot drink.
Hot chocolate with whipped cream.
What do you love most about your job? What do you hate the most?
I love my coworkers and hate hearing about acts of barbarism against animals on a daily basis.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
My romantic side wants to say yes, but really, I don’t think it’s possible. Lust at first sight, yes. Like at first sight, yes. A spark of chemistry, the feeling of a strong connection at first sight, yes. But love takes work, and to say that two people can fall in love immediately undermines the special work other people have put into their relationships.
Favorite restaurant(s):
All-time favorite: the Dixie, in Lebanon, PA (which has sadly closed). I still have dreams about it sometimes! Pier Restaurant (a chippie in Greenwich, England). Silver Diner. Jaleo. Olde Hansa in Tallinn.
“In the year 2001 I _____.”
Lost my beloved cat Shoah, adopted my cat Freyja, got a brand new car, watched in horror as the events of 9/11 unfolded, took a business trip to San Antonio, got displaced after a tornado slammed into my apartment.
“In the year 2002 I _____.”
Stopped wearing underwear, moved to a new apartment, got a new job, swam in the ocean for the first time in years.
“In the year 2003 I _____.”
Went to Scotland, attended three concerts (Peter Gabriel, American Idol, Simon & Garfunkel), attended two friends’ weddings (and was a bridesmaid in one of them).
“In the year 2004 I _____.”
Turned 30, became an aunt for the first and only time, saw Morrissey in concert, went to my first strip club.
“In the year 2005 I _____.”
Went to Finland, Estonia, Russia, and Iceland; started freelancing up a storm.
I like to sleep _______.
As long as physically possible. In my own bed.
I wish I had _______.
Enough money to buy a house!!! Plane tickets to various destinations around the world. And an adorably geeky boyfriend.
One thing I have that I wish I didn’t have is _____.
Anosmia. Oh, and ridiculously noisy neighbors. And debt. Okay, so much for naming only one thing…
I live for _______.
Vegging, sleeping, reading, hanging out with my cats, being silly with my friends.
Is revenge always a good thing?
Everybody’s going to expect me to say yes! But really, I don’t think revenge is always the best answer. It does help you feel better most of the time, but it can also make you look like a small, pathetic fool, which leaves you feeling worse than you did before you sought revenge. I try to follow the old adage “The best revenge is living well.” I don’t always succeed, but I try.
I can’t believe I _____.
Haven’t been felled by some kind of brain or skull injury/ailment yet. I guess because of all the problems I’ve had with my head, I’ve got this notion that I’m destined to experience some kind of trauma in that arena (cerebral hemorrhage, stroke, brain tumor, brain injury, etc). It doesn’t help that brain tumors run rampant in my dad’s maternal line.
song heard most recently before posting: Lonelily—Damien Rice
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
questions and answers
Aaackkkk!!! Since 2001 I’ve been thinking that my car would be paid off in August or September 2006. So this morning I called the bank to verify when my last payment should be, and they told me that my loan is a six year loan—not a five year loan—and therefore I have another year of payments!!! I need to go home and double-check my car contract, just to make sure the bank didn’t screw up, but I’m sure they didn’t. Shit.
Well, in much brighter news, I finally booked my ticket to London! I found a deal I couldn’t resist (it’s way more than I ever spent on a London ticket before, but still much cheaper than anything I’ve seen since I first started looking at flights this summer). I’ll fly out of National on Thursday, Sept. 28th, transferring at JFK, and then arriving in London early on Friday the 29th. I’ll fly home, via JFK, on Tuesday, October 3. Next up: booking a hotel room. I’ve been looking but haven’t made up my mind yet!
One would think that my flight would be a prime terrorist target because I’ll be flying American Airlines between New York and London. Still, nothing can be done about it. My will is in order, I’ve got life insurance, custody of my cats is in order. So if I do get blown up, at least my affairs are in order. I don’t want to be paralyzed by what could happen.
I had a great time with my friends in Lancaster County this past weekend, and I also managed to squeeze in a much-needed hair trim with my stylist. Because I didn’t have to do any freelancing (aside from one manuscript), I had plenty of time to update my website, do the Netflix thang, read, and relax. Mmm-mm!
Because I’m on my lunch break and I’m bored, here are some questions culled from the first two volumes of my Questionnaire Book series:
_____ is/are a part of your daily diet.
Reading, sleeping, cereal.
You can live anywhere in the world. Where is it?
London (preferably Greenwich, Primrose Hill, Camden, or Richmond); Pacific Northwest; Scandinavia; Nova Scotia; a remote Scottish island; Alaska
Favorite TV shows
Lost, Six Feet Under, Degrassi, House, The Office, The Amazing Race, Footballers’ Wives, EastEnders, Project Runway, Medium, 24, Grey’s Anatomy, Nip/Tuck, Little House on the Prairie, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, American Idol, Twilight Zone, Days of Our Lives, The Young Ones
The best place on earth is...
My sofa, with a warm blanket, a remote control in one hand, a book or magazine in the other hand, and my cats curled around my legs.
If you were an animal, what would you be and why?
A panda. Slow-moving, big eater, on the road to extinction.
If you became President and could enact two realistic laws and one totally outlandish law, what would they be?
Realistic: 1) I would make medical care accessible to everybody, regardless of their ability to pay; 2) I’d do the same for higher education. Outlandish: 1) I’d put all bigots, misogynists, homophobes, anti-Semites, religious zealots, human and civil rights violators, child abusers, animal abusers, and other close-minded asses on a remote, deserted island.
You would describe yourself as a __________ dancer.
spastic
Biggest abstract fear
Losing friends, family, and pets. Being apart from my pets when the DC area is ravaged by a massive terrorist attack, so they are alone and scared and trapped in my apartment. The threat of nuclear war. Being in a plane crash. Suffering from permanent writer’s block. Having to work 300 jobs for the rest of my life. Never being able to afford a house. Ending up with multiple sclerosis or brain cancer. The rise of the ultra-conservative and religious right in America (I worry that a Handmaid’s Tale-esque scenario will unfold at some point.)
If you had only one year to live, what would you do?
Travel to all the places I’ve ever dreamed of visiting. Write. Bungee jump. Go parasailing. Go skydiving again. Reveal true feelings to people. Meet Tori Amos. Visit Sylvia Plath’s and Marc Chagall’s graves. Make sure the executrix of my estate (my mom) understands my will.
Biggest waste of your time
Being social. Cleaning. Sitting in gridlock. Slow drivers. Worrying. Obsessing. Freelancing (I only do it for the money!)
Favorite clothing style
Eclectic. One day I’ll be preppy, the next day I’ll be in a vintage 1940s dress, the day after that I’ll be in sweats and a t-shirt from high school. Sometimes I’m in a monochrome state of mind. Comfort is of the essence—I’d live in my pajamas if I could! And I love me some chunky platform shoes, flared jeans, and ’50s-style A-line dresses and skirts. I like mixing and matching things, too: a vintage dress with very modern shoes and a funky purse, for instance. I love secondhand clothes, whether they look new or not.
What’s the best thing about summer?
How the sky looks before a thunderstorm. Gardens. Going swimming in the ocean. Going to the Jigger Shoppe with friends when I’m home in Lebanon. Walking into an air-conditioned building on a hot day. Having a few hours of daylight left after I leave work. Those glorious days where—after a long stretch of clammy, humid, hazy, disgustingly hot days—I wake up and the sky is bright blue and there is a perfect breeze and the sun is warm but not blazing, and I just want to roll around in the grass, barefoot.
About winter?
Snow (and the expectation of work being cancelled). The beautiful, barren, melancholy gloominess of the landscape. Seasonal food (my mom’s whoopie pies and my grandfather’s PA Dutch potato filling). December holidays. Long, cozy nights spent snuggling under blankets with my cats curled beside me. Warm, heavy clothes hiding imperfections and unshaved legs. The delicate bones of trees. Frost. Icicles.
About autumn?
The buttery light. Cool weather. Growing darkness. Halloween and Thanksgiving. Glorious leaves. A feeling of renewal (harkening back to the days when autumn meant the start of a new school year, when anything was possible).
About spring?
Growing light. Flowers. Schizophrenic weather.
What living person do you most admire?
This might sound corny, but I admire all the soldiers who are abroad right now, cleaning up our government’s messes. I also admire people who survive trauma, catastrophe, and/or abuse without letting it destroy them, and people who go out of their way to help humans or animals in need.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Closed-mindedness. Also, willful ignorance.
In yourself?
I am so lazy, it’s ridiculous. I have thoughts that can be quite mean. I’m shy. And lord knows my self-esteem ain’t the best in town, although it has improved in recent years.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue(s)?
Ambition, being in a relationship, having kids, being social.
What is your favorite journey?
Going home, wherever home may be. Driving around the back country roads of Lebanon and Lancaster Counties. Going on vacation. Returning to London. Heading to the ATM to deposit a big, fat freelancing check.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Letting myself believe that things will be okay in the end, even though there’s no overwhelming evidence to support this theory. Procrastinating. Wasting hours on the internet each week. Eating breakfast cereal for dinner. Reading trashy American and British magazines.
What object (not person or pet) is the greatest love of your life?
I guess right now it’s my website, because I’ve put so much time and energy into it, and I’m proud of it. Plus I’m really hungry for creative outlets, and right now this is the only thing I’m doing which fits the bill!
What talent/ability would you most like to have?
Natural: 1) Play an instrument. 2) Be a fantastic sculptor, photographer, and writer. 3) Be fabulous in the kitchen. 4) Know how to operate every single graphic design program in existence. 5) Be capable of doing math and my own taxes. Supernatural: 1) Become invisible at will. 2) Fly. 3) Time travel.
If you could change one thing about yourself, it would be...
My laziness.
What is your most treasured possession?
My Rowlf puppet. I received him for Christmas 1981 and he has been on my bed since then. Also, my journals, photos, custom-made iron headboard, camera, books, and travel scrapbooks. And the boxes of letters, cards, and mementos I have collected over the years.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Studying abroad, graduating cum laude from college, moving to the DC area and not having it be a disaster, skydiving, working for my current job. Making it this far without having a nervous breakdown.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Mental illness. Standing by helplessly as your relationship with your significant other unravels and breaks your heart. Losing someone you love. Homelessness. Suffering from a terminal or catastrophic illness. Dealing with the emotional aftereffects of a trauma or catastrophe.
State five words that describe you.
Homebody, introverted, solitary, lazy, intuitive.
State five words that don’t describe you.
Perky, shallow, energetic, extroverted, conformist.
State five words that described you when you were a teen.
Depressed, moody, melodramatic, self-absorbed, creative.
What do you think is the most intriguing period in history?
World War II, especially the London Blitz and the Holocaust. The medieval era.
If you could invent anything, what would it be?
A personal robot who would take care of the mundane aspects of my life that I hate: cleaning, preparing meals, taking out the garbage, scooping the litterbox, running errands, freelancing, etc.
My biggest fashion mistake ever was _____.
Using a home stripping kit to get the black dye out of my hair when I was 17—I spent the next year with sick, crunchy, tri-colored hair
I always need a little help from _____.
Effexor, my journal, my friends.
What are people always surprised to learn about you?
I was born without a sense of smell and I got chucked out of England when I was 22.
Who or what did you worship when you were 15?
The idea of non-conformity, The Cure, Puccini, Gabrielle Wells (a gothy girl from my school), Neil Patrick Harris (I had a raging crush on him, go figure), England, the Young Ones, the Monty Python boys.
If you were a kitchen utensil, what would you be and why?
A can opener—eager to pry the surfaces off people, to see what exists within.
Can you imitate any celebrities or do any stupid human tricks?
I can kinda imitate Joey Lawrence’s “whoa” thing and Missy’s grandmother. The only trick I can do is bend my thumbs back, because I’m double-jointed.
What is your favorite music video?
Do they even make music videos anymore?? And if so, why do they bother? It’s not like MTV and VH1 ever play music! My favorites from the days when music videos did air: Never Tear Us Apart (INXS), Come to my Window (Melissa Etheridge), Right Now (Van Halen), Spark (Tori Amos), 1000 Oceans (Tori Amos), Perfect Drug (NIN), Frozen (Madonna), High Hopes (Pink Floyd), Everybody Hurts (REM).
What is the perfect first date for you?
A surprise picnic in a cemetery or barren field, at night, with candles and classical music. We would talk and laugh and dance. Or a nice meal at a tasty ethnic or vegetarian restaurant, followed by a great foreign film and maybe strolling around Georgetown or Old Town.
If your house was on fire and you only had enough time to save three objects (your family and pets are already safe), what would they be?
My journals, Rowlf, my photo collection.
You end up in Hell. Describe it.
I’m forced to sit on a torn leather seat and listen to repetitive music, hip hop, rap, and Aaron Neville while worms crawl on me. I’m forced to eat meat and my body is wracked with acid reflux, gas pains, and tingling. The walls are covered in disturbing patterns, blinking internet banner ads, and internet pop-up ads. I’m not allowed to sleep. Wailing ambulance, fire truck, and police sirens blare. I’m forced to exercise, play sports, do math equations, and do freelance manuscripts constantly. I am separated from the people and pets who I love. There is no internet, email, music, books, nature, art, or vegging.
What is your favorite time occupation?
Vegging, reading, emailing friends, surfing the net, watching TV, sleeping, watching movies, checking out art exhibits that interest me, relaxing in nature, working on my website.
Favorite city you’ve ever been to.
All-time favorite: London. Next up: Tallinn; Edinburgh; St. Petersburg; San Francisco; Chicago; various little towns in Scotland (especially Pittenweem); various towns and cities in England (esp. Dover, Oxford, and York); Lancaster, PA; Bethesda, MD; Old Town Alexandria, VA; the Georgetown section of DC; Takoma Park, MD; Northampton, MA; Helsinki; Glasgow; Ottawa; Florence; Paris; Lucerne; Berne; Rome; Rothenburg.
What is it that you most dislike?
Intolerance, ignorance, prejudice, waking up, religious fundamentalists, right-wing conservatives, animal abusers, child abusers, misogynists, math, meat, being broke, inappropriate apostrophes and quote marks, repetitive noises, people whose postings on internet message boards are practically incoherent because their spelling and punctuation are so sloppy, smoking, eczema flare-ups, tingling, insomnia, vomiting, iced tea and lemonade, telemarketers, spam, pop-up ads, flashing banner ads, gridlock, humidity, getting my neck touched, people who loudly blab on cell phones in public, crappy drivers, exercise, super-bright headlights, SUVs, my noisy neighbors.
What can’t you live without?
My loved ones, my cats, books, my camera, the internet, TV, nature, sleep, breakfast cereal.
Favorite food(s)
Pretty much any vegetarian dish from anywhere in the world (Indian, Thai, Mediterranean, American, you name it), breakfast cereal, Subway’s Veggie Delite subs, VegeBest vegetarian ham, grilled cheese with tomatoes, Cedar Lane brand vegetarian ham and cheese pockets, Amy’s brand soy cheese pizza pockets, baked brie, English muffin pizzas, my mom’s whoopie pies, my grandfather’s PA Dutch potato filling, veggie dogs wrapped in crescent rolls with cheese, Papa John’s pizza, BLTs (w/ vegetarian bacon), mint chocolate chip ice cream, caramel ice cream, chocolate and peanut butter ice cream, hot fudge sundaes (with no nuts), old-school McDonald’s apple pies (which are still sold throughout Europe!).
If you could design your own college courses, they would study...
Self-injury and its satellite issues (sexual abuse, ritual abuse, psychiatric abuse, MPD); urban legends and the symbolism behind them; literature written by the mentally ill; self-injury literature; nuclear holocaust literature; nuclear war in pop culture; dystopian literature; young adult literature; a course that compares the writing and lives of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.
What was your best-ever Valentine’s Day?
It was 1998, when Missy, Gates, and I took a road trip to Nashville during the three-day Valentine’s Day/President’s Day weekend. Since we’re all freak- and misfit-magnets, we encountered lots of…er… interesting folks in Nashville. Even the long 13-hour drive was peppered with hysterical, memorable moments. We took a bus tour of Nashville landmarks and country music stars’ homes (our driver was a lunatic) and we also ate dinner at a posh revolving restaurant on top of a skyscraper. It was truly a fabulous Valentine’s Day I’ll never forget.
What was your first job?
I worked at Hardees fast food restaurant throughout 10th grade, when I was 15 years old. I earned minimum wage, which was something like $3.70 at the time. Hot damn, I thought I was rich! And considering the fact that my weekly allowance was only $5, I was kind of rich.
What is the strongest opinion you hold, which other people may not agree with?
I am vehemently pro-choice and vehemently pro-animal protection. And I am very pro-psychotropic drugs. Okay, they are overprescribed and can be abused, but I just think that too many people (I’m looking at you, Tom Cruise) are quick to dismiss their benefits, and too many people are quick to say, “Well, they’re fine for short-term treatment, but you should get off them ASAP.” For situational depression, that’s fine, but what if you’ve got chronic depression? Telling someone with chronic depression to get off drugs after, say, a year is like telling a diabetic to get off insulin after a year.
What is the strongest craving you get?
These days I am craving a house—buying it and decorating it.
What have you lost that you would most like to retrieve?
A feeling of unadulterated optimism about my future. When I was a teenager, I honestly believed that I could move to England, become a famous writer, buy a big house, and marry a fantastic man. I had faith in my ability to accomplish those things. I miss having that much optimism for ridiculously out-of-bounds dreams. Like I said earlier, I do allow myself the luxury of believing that things will be okay in the end, but not that okay!
_____ is/are sexy but ______ is/are sexier!
glasses … loving animals
To grow a _____ you have to plant a ______.
spine … betrayal
What’s the most expensive item of clothing you own?
I do have a Juicy Couture shirt, but I bought it off eBay, so it was cheaper than its normal designer price. In lieu of that, I suppose the most expensive item is the floor-length black velvet hooded cape I bought in London during my senior year of college. It cost £90. And really, I have no clue why I bought it. I think it was the most expensive impulse purchase I’ve ever made.
Three ways in which you are stereotypically a boy.
1) I barely care about makeup or jewelry. 2) I don’t even brush my hair, much less style it. 3) The idea of getting spa treatments doesn’t appeal to me at all (except for a heated mud bath!), and neither do girly toiletries (scented lotions and creams and whatnot).
Three ways in which you are stereotypically a girl.
1) I know nothing about cars. 2) I really like wearing skirts/dresses and carrying funky purses. 3) I hate sports.
song heard most recently before posting: C’est Lui Que Mon Coeur a Choisi—Edith Piaf
Well, in much brighter news, I finally booked my ticket to London! I found a deal I couldn’t resist (it’s way more than I ever spent on a London ticket before, but still much cheaper than anything I’ve seen since I first started looking at flights this summer). I’ll fly out of National on Thursday, Sept. 28th, transferring at JFK, and then arriving in London early on Friday the 29th. I’ll fly home, via JFK, on Tuesday, October 3. Next up: booking a hotel room. I’ve been looking but haven’t made up my mind yet!
One would think that my flight would be a prime terrorist target because I’ll be flying American Airlines between New York and London. Still, nothing can be done about it. My will is in order, I’ve got life insurance, custody of my cats is in order. So if I do get blown up, at least my affairs are in order. I don’t want to be paralyzed by what could happen.
I had a great time with my friends in Lancaster County this past weekend, and I also managed to squeeze in a much-needed hair trim with my stylist. Because I didn’t have to do any freelancing (aside from one manuscript), I had plenty of time to update my website, do the Netflix thang, read, and relax. Mmm-mm!
Because I’m on my lunch break and I’m bored, here are some questions culled from the first two volumes of my Questionnaire Book series:
_____ is/are a part of your daily diet.
Reading, sleeping, cereal.
You can live anywhere in the world. Where is it?
London (preferably Greenwich, Primrose Hill, Camden, or Richmond); Pacific Northwest; Scandinavia; Nova Scotia; a remote Scottish island; Alaska
Favorite TV shows
Lost, Six Feet Under, Degrassi, House, The Office, The Amazing Race, Footballers’ Wives, EastEnders, Project Runway, Medium, 24, Grey’s Anatomy, Nip/Tuck, Little House on the Prairie, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, American Idol, Twilight Zone, Days of Our Lives, The Young Ones
The best place on earth is...
My sofa, with a warm blanket, a remote control in one hand, a book or magazine in the other hand, and my cats curled around my legs.
If you were an animal, what would you be and why?
A panda. Slow-moving, big eater, on the road to extinction.
If you became President and could enact two realistic laws and one totally outlandish law, what would they be?
Realistic: 1) I would make medical care accessible to everybody, regardless of their ability to pay; 2) I’d do the same for higher education. Outlandish: 1) I’d put all bigots, misogynists, homophobes, anti-Semites, religious zealots, human and civil rights violators, child abusers, animal abusers, and other close-minded asses on a remote, deserted island.
You would describe yourself as a __________ dancer.
spastic
Biggest abstract fear
Losing friends, family, and pets. Being apart from my pets when the DC area is ravaged by a massive terrorist attack, so they are alone and scared and trapped in my apartment. The threat of nuclear war. Being in a plane crash. Suffering from permanent writer’s block. Having to work 300 jobs for the rest of my life. Never being able to afford a house. Ending up with multiple sclerosis or brain cancer. The rise of the ultra-conservative and religious right in America (I worry that a Handmaid’s Tale-esque scenario will unfold at some point.)
If you had only one year to live, what would you do?
Travel to all the places I’ve ever dreamed of visiting. Write. Bungee jump. Go parasailing. Go skydiving again. Reveal true feelings to people. Meet Tori Amos. Visit Sylvia Plath’s and Marc Chagall’s graves. Make sure the executrix of my estate (my mom) understands my will.
Biggest waste of your time
Being social. Cleaning. Sitting in gridlock. Slow drivers. Worrying. Obsessing. Freelancing (I only do it for the money!)
Favorite clothing style
Eclectic. One day I’ll be preppy, the next day I’ll be in a vintage 1940s dress, the day after that I’ll be in sweats and a t-shirt from high school. Sometimes I’m in a monochrome state of mind. Comfort is of the essence—I’d live in my pajamas if I could! And I love me some chunky platform shoes, flared jeans, and ’50s-style A-line dresses and skirts. I like mixing and matching things, too: a vintage dress with very modern shoes and a funky purse, for instance. I love secondhand clothes, whether they look new or not.
What’s the best thing about summer?
How the sky looks before a thunderstorm. Gardens. Going swimming in the ocean. Going to the Jigger Shoppe with friends when I’m home in Lebanon. Walking into an air-conditioned building on a hot day. Having a few hours of daylight left after I leave work. Those glorious days where—after a long stretch of clammy, humid, hazy, disgustingly hot days—I wake up and the sky is bright blue and there is a perfect breeze and the sun is warm but not blazing, and I just want to roll around in the grass, barefoot.
About winter?
Snow (and the expectation of work being cancelled). The beautiful, barren, melancholy gloominess of the landscape. Seasonal food (my mom’s whoopie pies and my grandfather’s PA Dutch potato filling). December holidays. Long, cozy nights spent snuggling under blankets with my cats curled beside me. Warm, heavy clothes hiding imperfections and unshaved legs. The delicate bones of trees. Frost. Icicles.
About autumn?
The buttery light. Cool weather. Growing darkness. Halloween and Thanksgiving. Glorious leaves. A feeling of renewal (harkening back to the days when autumn meant the start of a new school year, when anything was possible).
About spring?
Growing light. Flowers. Schizophrenic weather.
What living person do you most admire?
This might sound corny, but I admire all the soldiers who are abroad right now, cleaning up our government’s messes. I also admire people who survive trauma, catastrophe, and/or abuse without letting it destroy them, and people who go out of their way to help humans or animals in need.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Closed-mindedness. Also, willful ignorance.
In yourself?
I am so lazy, it’s ridiculous. I have thoughts that can be quite mean. I’m shy. And lord knows my self-esteem ain’t the best in town, although it has improved in recent years.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue(s)?
Ambition, being in a relationship, having kids, being social.
What is your favorite journey?
Going home, wherever home may be. Driving around the back country roads of Lebanon and Lancaster Counties. Going on vacation. Returning to London. Heading to the ATM to deposit a big, fat freelancing check.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Letting myself believe that things will be okay in the end, even though there’s no overwhelming evidence to support this theory. Procrastinating. Wasting hours on the internet each week. Eating breakfast cereal for dinner. Reading trashy American and British magazines.
What object (not person or pet) is the greatest love of your life?
I guess right now it’s my website, because I’ve put so much time and energy into it, and I’m proud of it. Plus I’m really hungry for creative outlets, and right now this is the only thing I’m doing which fits the bill!
What talent/ability would you most like to have?
Natural: 1) Play an instrument. 2) Be a fantastic sculptor, photographer, and writer. 3) Be fabulous in the kitchen. 4) Know how to operate every single graphic design program in existence. 5) Be capable of doing math and my own taxes. Supernatural: 1) Become invisible at will. 2) Fly. 3) Time travel.
If you could change one thing about yourself, it would be...
My laziness.
What is your most treasured possession?
My Rowlf puppet. I received him for Christmas 1981 and he has been on my bed since then. Also, my journals, photos, custom-made iron headboard, camera, books, and travel scrapbooks. And the boxes of letters, cards, and mementos I have collected over the years.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Studying abroad, graduating cum laude from college, moving to the DC area and not having it be a disaster, skydiving, working for my current job. Making it this far without having a nervous breakdown.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Mental illness. Standing by helplessly as your relationship with your significant other unravels and breaks your heart. Losing someone you love. Homelessness. Suffering from a terminal or catastrophic illness. Dealing with the emotional aftereffects of a trauma or catastrophe.
State five words that describe you.
Homebody, introverted, solitary, lazy, intuitive.
State five words that don’t describe you.
Perky, shallow, energetic, extroverted, conformist.
State five words that described you when you were a teen.
Depressed, moody, melodramatic, self-absorbed, creative.
What do you think is the most intriguing period in history?
World War II, especially the London Blitz and the Holocaust. The medieval era.
If you could invent anything, what would it be?
A personal robot who would take care of the mundane aspects of my life that I hate: cleaning, preparing meals, taking out the garbage, scooping the litterbox, running errands, freelancing, etc.
My biggest fashion mistake ever was _____.
Using a home stripping kit to get the black dye out of my hair when I was 17—I spent the next year with sick, crunchy, tri-colored hair
I always need a little help from _____.
Effexor, my journal, my friends.
What are people always surprised to learn about you?
I was born without a sense of smell and I got chucked out of England when I was 22.
Who or what did you worship when you were 15?
The idea of non-conformity, The Cure, Puccini, Gabrielle Wells (a gothy girl from my school), Neil Patrick Harris (I had a raging crush on him, go figure), England, the Young Ones, the Monty Python boys.
If you were a kitchen utensil, what would you be and why?
A can opener—eager to pry the surfaces off people, to see what exists within.
Can you imitate any celebrities or do any stupid human tricks?
I can kinda imitate Joey Lawrence’s “whoa” thing and Missy’s grandmother. The only trick I can do is bend my thumbs back, because I’m double-jointed.
What is your favorite music video?
Do they even make music videos anymore?? And if so, why do they bother? It’s not like MTV and VH1 ever play music! My favorites from the days when music videos did air: Never Tear Us Apart (INXS), Come to my Window (Melissa Etheridge), Right Now (Van Halen), Spark (Tori Amos), 1000 Oceans (Tori Amos), Perfect Drug (NIN), Frozen (Madonna), High Hopes (Pink Floyd), Everybody Hurts (REM).
What is the perfect first date for you?
A surprise picnic in a cemetery or barren field, at night, with candles and classical music. We would talk and laugh and dance. Or a nice meal at a tasty ethnic or vegetarian restaurant, followed by a great foreign film and maybe strolling around Georgetown or Old Town.
If your house was on fire and you only had enough time to save three objects (your family and pets are already safe), what would they be?
My journals, Rowlf, my photo collection.
You end up in Hell. Describe it.
I’m forced to sit on a torn leather seat and listen to repetitive music, hip hop, rap, and Aaron Neville while worms crawl on me. I’m forced to eat meat and my body is wracked with acid reflux, gas pains, and tingling. The walls are covered in disturbing patterns, blinking internet banner ads, and internet pop-up ads. I’m not allowed to sleep. Wailing ambulance, fire truck, and police sirens blare. I’m forced to exercise, play sports, do math equations, and do freelance manuscripts constantly. I am separated from the people and pets who I love. There is no internet, email, music, books, nature, art, or vegging.
What is your favorite time occupation?
Vegging, reading, emailing friends, surfing the net, watching TV, sleeping, watching movies, checking out art exhibits that interest me, relaxing in nature, working on my website.
Favorite city you’ve ever been to.
All-time favorite: London. Next up: Tallinn; Edinburgh; St. Petersburg; San Francisco; Chicago; various little towns in Scotland (especially Pittenweem); various towns and cities in England (esp. Dover, Oxford, and York); Lancaster, PA; Bethesda, MD; Old Town Alexandria, VA; the Georgetown section of DC; Takoma Park, MD; Northampton, MA; Helsinki; Glasgow; Ottawa; Florence; Paris; Lucerne; Berne; Rome; Rothenburg.
What is it that you most dislike?
Intolerance, ignorance, prejudice, waking up, religious fundamentalists, right-wing conservatives, animal abusers, child abusers, misogynists, math, meat, being broke, inappropriate apostrophes and quote marks, repetitive noises, people whose postings on internet message boards are practically incoherent because their spelling and punctuation are so sloppy, smoking, eczema flare-ups, tingling, insomnia, vomiting, iced tea and lemonade, telemarketers, spam, pop-up ads, flashing banner ads, gridlock, humidity, getting my neck touched, people who loudly blab on cell phones in public, crappy drivers, exercise, super-bright headlights, SUVs, my noisy neighbors.
What can’t you live without?
My loved ones, my cats, books, my camera, the internet, TV, nature, sleep, breakfast cereal.
Favorite food(s)
Pretty much any vegetarian dish from anywhere in the world (Indian, Thai, Mediterranean, American, you name it), breakfast cereal, Subway’s Veggie Delite subs, VegeBest vegetarian ham, grilled cheese with tomatoes, Cedar Lane brand vegetarian ham and cheese pockets, Amy’s brand soy cheese pizza pockets, baked brie, English muffin pizzas, my mom’s whoopie pies, my grandfather’s PA Dutch potato filling, veggie dogs wrapped in crescent rolls with cheese, Papa John’s pizza, BLTs (w/ vegetarian bacon), mint chocolate chip ice cream, caramel ice cream, chocolate and peanut butter ice cream, hot fudge sundaes (with no nuts), old-school McDonald’s apple pies (which are still sold throughout Europe!).
If you could design your own college courses, they would study...
Self-injury and its satellite issues (sexual abuse, ritual abuse, psychiatric abuse, MPD); urban legends and the symbolism behind them; literature written by the mentally ill; self-injury literature; nuclear holocaust literature; nuclear war in pop culture; dystopian literature; young adult literature; a course that compares the writing and lives of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.
What was your best-ever Valentine’s Day?
It was 1998, when Missy, Gates, and I took a road trip to Nashville during the three-day Valentine’s Day/President’s Day weekend. Since we’re all freak- and misfit-magnets, we encountered lots of…er… interesting folks in Nashville. Even the long 13-hour drive was peppered with hysterical, memorable moments. We took a bus tour of Nashville landmarks and country music stars’ homes (our driver was a lunatic) and we also ate dinner at a posh revolving restaurant on top of a skyscraper. It was truly a fabulous Valentine’s Day I’ll never forget.
What was your first job?
I worked at Hardees fast food restaurant throughout 10th grade, when I was 15 years old. I earned minimum wage, which was something like $3.70 at the time. Hot damn, I thought I was rich! And considering the fact that my weekly allowance was only $5, I was kind of rich.
What is the strongest opinion you hold, which other people may not agree with?
I am vehemently pro-choice and vehemently pro-animal protection. And I am very pro-psychotropic drugs. Okay, they are overprescribed and can be abused, but I just think that too many people (I’m looking at you, Tom Cruise) are quick to dismiss their benefits, and too many people are quick to say, “Well, they’re fine for short-term treatment, but you should get off them ASAP.” For situational depression, that’s fine, but what if you’ve got chronic depression? Telling someone with chronic depression to get off drugs after, say, a year is like telling a diabetic to get off insulin after a year.
What is the strongest craving you get?
These days I am craving a house—buying it and decorating it.
What have you lost that you would most like to retrieve?
A feeling of unadulterated optimism about my future. When I was a teenager, I honestly believed that I could move to England, become a famous writer, buy a big house, and marry a fantastic man. I had faith in my ability to accomplish those things. I miss having that much optimism for ridiculously out-of-bounds dreams. Like I said earlier, I do allow myself the luxury of believing that things will be okay in the end, but not that okay!
_____ is/are sexy but ______ is/are sexier!
glasses … loving animals
To grow a _____ you have to plant a ______.
spine … betrayal
What’s the most expensive item of clothing you own?
I do have a Juicy Couture shirt, but I bought it off eBay, so it was cheaper than its normal designer price. In lieu of that, I suppose the most expensive item is the floor-length black velvet hooded cape I bought in London during my senior year of college. It cost £90. And really, I have no clue why I bought it. I think it was the most expensive impulse purchase I’ve ever made.
Three ways in which you are stereotypically a boy.
1) I barely care about makeup or jewelry. 2) I don’t even brush my hair, much less style it. 3) The idea of getting spa treatments doesn’t appeal to me at all (except for a heated mud bath!), and neither do girly toiletries (scented lotions and creams and whatnot).
Three ways in which you are stereotypically a girl.
1) I know nothing about cars. 2) I really like wearing skirts/dresses and carrying funky purses. 3) I hate sports.
song heard most recently before posting: C’est Lui Que Mon Coeur a Choisi—Edith Piaf
Friday, September 01, 2006
Ernesto and horse poop
Happy Birthday, Shawn Seabold!!!!
back in ’93, miseryloved a good party hat
This weekend we will get thwacked by the remnants of Hurricane Ernesto, with up to six inches of rain possible. We badly need the rain, but I live in a basement apartment which has flooded in the past, so forecasts of torrential rain always make me squirm a bit.
I’ll be in Pennsylvania for the first half of the weekend, meeting up with my old friend Laura for dinner in Lancaster tonight, and meeting up with David and Angela in Lancaster County tomorrow afternoon. We’re supposed to bop around Intercourse, since poor David has never been there; however, with the heavy rain, who knows what will happen. Not that I’m completely adverse to spending the day weaving my way around rain puddles and piles of horse shit, but I don’t know how the others will feel about it. I’m also going to squeeze in a much-needed hair trim with my hometown stylist (my hair hasn’t been touched since she cut off 11 inches of it last December) and I’m going to pop into my favorite architectural antiques store in Manheim. On Saturday evening I’ll head home so I can spend Sunday working (if any freelance manuscripts arrive today, that is) and Monday vegging.
Side note: this morning on the Beltway I was driving beside a truck belonging to a recreational amusements company (billiards tables and the like), and on the side of the truck, where it should’ve said “pool tables,” it instead said “poo tables.” Because I’m a 12-year-old boy, I laughed raucously. It reminded me of a sign I stole from my London dorm’s dining hall. On the wall there had been a sign saying “Please do not sit on the tables,” but some snarky soul inserted a proofreading caret between the “s” and the “i” in “sit,” then put an “h” above it, so the sign became “Please do not shit on the tables.” It made me snicker so much, I stole the sign and kept it hanging on my dorm room wall for the rest of the year.
song heard most recently before posting: Mr. Roboto—Styx
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
A Rainbow of Personality
A coworker sent this to me a few months ago, and although I filled it out at that time, I’m going to fill it out again here:
RED
Closest red thing to you?
A British telephone box sticker on my monitor.
Last thing to make you angry?
Undoubtedly something computer-related!
Do you have a temper?
Not really, except when it comes to my neighbors. But I never show my fury to them—I just let it simmer; I seethe inwardly or vent in my journal or to my friends (you’ll never see me strike out).
Are you a fan of romance?
Yeah.
ORANGE
Closest orange thing to you?
There are some orange polka dots on my dress.
Do you like to burn things?
I sometimes did as a teen—not really anymore. However, I am gearing up to burn a gigantic bag full of mementos and I have something creative planned for the ashes. I just have to figure out where I’m going to do it.
Dress up for Halloween?
I love to do it, but it doesn’t always get done. However, last year’s Soviet slut costume really kicked some ass.
Are you usually a warm-hearted person?
I am when it comes to animals. When it comes to people…not always.
Do you have anything against ginger hair?
I love red hair.
Are you full of energy?
Never.
YELLOW
Closest yellow thing to you?
A job folder.
The happiest time[s] of your life?
In the past, it was the summers of 1993 and 1994 and my year abroad. These days it’s whenever I’m vegging at home and have no work to do, and also when I’m hanging out with friends.
Favorite holiday?
Christmas. How clichéd!
What makes you smile?
Olivia. My friends. Seeing my cats cuddle. Reading my friends’ quotes on my quotes page. Being near a crush.
Are you a coward?
In some situations, definitely.
Do you burn or tan?
Why is this located in the yellow section? I burn pretty easily, and usually it turns into a light tan. When I avoid the sun I remain rather pale.
GREEN
Closest green thing to you?
There are some green polka dots on my dress.
Do you care about the environment?
Yeah! But, admittedly, I don’t do much to help protect it, other than recycling and feeding the birds and squirrels in my yard.
Are you jealous of anyone right now?
Hmm…I don’t think so, surprisingly. Well, except for people who can afford houses in the DC area’s ridiculously overinflated housing market.
Are you a lucky person?
I’m not lucky when it comes to winning contents and having awesome things happen to me out of the blue. But I’m lucky in other ways. I’ve had very little death in my life, I’ve never been homeless, I love my job, and I’ve got good people in my life.
Do you always want what you can’t have?
Eh, I do an average amount of coveting.
Do you like being outdoors?
Absolutely. But not when it’s hot and/or humid!
BLUE
Closest blue thing to you?
The apple icon in the corner of my Mac screen.
Are you good at calming people down?
Sometimes. And it surprises me!
Do you like the sea?
I’d live right next to it if I could.
Last thing to make you cry?
Panicking about my grandfather’s spate of ill health a few days ago.
Are you a logical thinker?
Usually not, but I am capable of it when it’s necessary.
Can you sleep easily?
No, I have trouble falling asleep nearly every night. But once I’m asleep, I generally sleep pretty soundly.
PURPLE
Closest purple thing to you?
A quotable card hanging on my cube wall.
Like being treated to expensive things?
Yeah, although it rarely happens!
Do you like mysterious things?
Mystery can be a tantalizing spice, but I’m not crazy about it when it comes in the form of, say, mysterious sounds outside my window at night.
Favorite type of chocolate?
Andes mints. Opera fudge. Yorkie bars and Cadbury Dairy Milk from England. Hershey Kisses with peanut butter inside.
Ever met anyone in royalty?
I once stood a few feet away from a Norwegian princess at Union Station.
Are you creative?
Yes, but not when under pressure.
PINK
Closest pink thing to you?
A lobbying time tracking form.
Do you like sweet foods?
Yes, although not super-sweet. And I crave salt more often than sugar.
Like play-fighting?
Have I even done that since I’ve been an adult?
Are you sensitive?
Too much for my own good.
Do you like punk music?
Not really, other than 2-3 Sex Pistols songs, and a song from the Clash.
WHITE
Closest white thing to you?
My keyboard.
Would you say you’re innocent?
In some areas, yes. In others…eh, not really.
Always try to keep the peace?
Yes. Conflict makes me cringe.
How do you imagine your wedding?
Smallish; very, very personalized.
Do you like to play in the snow?
Aw, sure, although I haven’t done it in yonks!
Are you afraid of going to the doctors or dentists?
Nope.
BLACK
Closest black thing to you?
Besides my heart? My glasses (the frames).
Ever enjoy hurting people?
In my head, but not in reality.
Are you sophisticated or silly?
Both.
Afraid of death?
No. I’m afraid of all my loved ones dying, though.
Would you like to go to space?
Hell to the yeah!
Do you have a lot of secrets?
No. Almost everything is known by at least one person.
What is your favorite color?
Plum. Follow-ups: garnet, charcoal gray, silver, black.
Does the color you wear affect your mood?
No.
What color would you think best symbolizes your personality?
Errr...charcoal, maybe? Or dark purple?
song heard most recently before posting: Nashville—Indigo Girls
RED
Closest red thing to you?
A British telephone box sticker on my monitor.
Last thing to make you angry?
Undoubtedly something computer-related!
Do you have a temper?
Not really, except when it comes to my neighbors. But I never show my fury to them—I just let it simmer; I seethe inwardly or vent in my journal or to my friends (you’ll never see me strike out).
Are you a fan of romance?
Yeah.
ORANGE
Closest orange thing to you?
There are some orange polka dots on my dress.
Do you like to burn things?
I sometimes did as a teen—not really anymore. However, I am gearing up to burn a gigantic bag full of mementos and I have something creative planned for the ashes. I just have to figure out where I’m going to do it.
Dress up for Halloween?
I love to do it, but it doesn’t always get done. However, last year’s Soviet slut costume really kicked some ass.
Are you usually a warm-hearted person?
I am when it comes to animals. When it comes to people…not always.
Do you have anything against ginger hair?
I love red hair.
Are you full of energy?
Never.
YELLOW
Closest yellow thing to you?
A job folder.
The happiest time[s] of your life?
In the past, it was the summers of 1993 and 1994 and my year abroad. These days it’s whenever I’m vegging at home and have no work to do, and also when I’m hanging out with friends.
Favorite holiday?
Christmas. How clichéd!
What makes you smile?
Olivia. My friends. Seeing my cats cuddle. Reading my friends’ quotes on my quotes page. Being near a crush.
Are you a coward?
In some situations, definitely.
Do you burn or tan?
Why is this located in the yellow section? I burn pretty easily, and usually it turns into a light tan. When I avoid the sun I remain rather pale.
GREEN
Closest green thing to you?
There are some green polka dots on my dress.
Do you care about the environment?
Yeah! But, admittedly, I don’t do much to help protect it, other than recycling and feeding the birds and squirrels in my yard.
Are you jealous of anyone right now?
Hmm…I don’t think so, surprisingly. Well, except for people who can afford houses in the DC area’s ridiculously overinflated housing market.
Are you a lucky person?
I’m not lucky when it comes to winning contents and having awesome things happen to me out of the blue. But I’m lucky in other ways. I’ve had very little death in my life, I’ve never been homeless, I love my job, and I’ve got good people in my life.
Do you always want what you can’t have?
Eh, I do an average amount of coveting.
Do you like being outdoors?
Absolutely. But not when it’s hot and/or humid!
BLUE
Closest blue thing to you?
The apple icon in the corner of my Mac screen.
Are you good at calming people down?
Sometimes. And it surprises me!
Do you like the sea?
I’d live right next to it if I could.
Last thing to make you cry?
Panicking about my grandfather’s spate of ill health a few days ago.
Are you a logical thinker?
Usually not, but I am capable of it when it’s necessary.
Can you sleep easily?
No, I have trouble falling asleep nearly every night. But once I’m asleep, I generally sleep pretty soundly.
PURPLE
Closest purple thing to you?
A quotable card hanging on my cube wall.
Like being treated to expensive things?
Yeah, although it rarely happens!
Do you like mysterious things?
Mystery can be a tantalizing spice, but I’m not crazy about it when it comes in the form of, say, mysterious sounds outside my window at night.
Favorite type of chocolate?
Andes mints. Opera fudge. Yorkie bars and Cadbury Dairy Milk from England. Hershey Kisses with peanut butter inside.
Ever met anyone in royalty?
I once stood a few feet away from a Norwegian princess at Union Station.
Are you creative?
Yes, but not when under pressure.
PINK
Closest pink thing to you?
A lobbying time tracking form.
Do you like sweet foods?
Yes, although not super-sweet. And I crave salt more often than sugar.
Like play-fighting?
Have I even done that since I’ve been an adult?
Are you sensitive?
Too much for my own good.
Do you like punk music?
Not really, other than 2-3 Sex Pistols songs, and a song from the Clash.
WHITE
Closest white thing to you?
My keyboard.
Would you say you’re innocent?
In some areas, yes. In others…eh, not really.
Always try to keep the peace?
Yes. Conflict makes me cringe.
How do you imagine your wedding?
Smallish; very, very personalized.
Do you like to play in the snow?
Aw, sure, although I haven’t done it in yonks!
Are you afraid of going to the doctors or dentists?
Nope.
BLACK
Closest black thing to you?
Besides my heart? My glasses (the frames).
Ever enjoy hurting people?
In my head, but not in reality.
Are you sophisticated or silly?
Both.
Afraid of death?
No. I’m afraid of all my loved ones dying, though.
Would you like to go to space?
Hell to the yeah!
Do you have a lot of secrets?
No. Almost everything is known by at least one person.
What is your favorite color?
Plum. Follow-ups: garnet, charcoal gray, silver, black.
Does the color you wear affect your mood?
No.
What color would you think best symbolizes your personality?
Errr...charcoal, maybe? Or dark purple?
song heard most recently before posting: Nashville—Indigo Girls
Monday, August 28, 2006
butterflies
Happy Birthday, David and Mark Byrne!!!!
The bad: This morning I had to spend four hours in the Firestone waiting room, getting my car fixed, to the tune of $500+.
The good: Yesterday, at a cookout at my mom’s house, my grandfather began experiencing some baffling and severe health problems, but as of now, it looks like he is recovering nicely. To say that my relief is palpable would be an understatement. Mom’s going to check on him tonight after work, just to be sure, and if need be, she’s going to drag him to the ER.
My heart can start beating again now, right?
Bone-rattling terror aside, I actually had a good weekend. It was one of those ultra-rare weekends when I didn’t have to work, so I sucked as much leisure out of it as possible.
On Saturday I checked out the butterfly exhibit at Brookside Gardens in Wheaton (you can see my pictures here, including a shot of two butterflies having sex), and then I swung by Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens in DC to see what flowers had bloomed since I was last there in the spring (photos here). The butterfly exhibit was excellent, but hot. It was at least 90 degrees in the conservatory, with tropical humidity. I haven’t sweated that much since I spent a half-hour in a Finnish sauna last year.
Every adult was snapping photos like a madman, with the cameras ranging from cheap throwaways to cameras so advanced, they looked like they harkened from the future. Everyone was after the golden ticket: a photo of the sky-blue butterflies who refused to sit still. I tried to photograph as many different butterfly patterns as possible, which meant staying there until I was literally dripping sweat on the floor.
And yeah, I’m trying not to think about the fact that those poor butterflies will only live for two weeks.
song heard most recently before posting: Cymbeline—Loreena McKennitt
Thursday, August 24, 2006
watch lists
Years after graduating from high school, Shawn told me that he and I—along with god knows how many other kids—had been wedged onto our high school’s pre-Columbine, pre-9/11 “terrorist” watch list. I never even knew this list existed. Whether its intention was to keep an eye on potential mass murderers or to flag us as students who needed to be “saved” (ie, squeezed into the common mold, helped to conform, etc.) remains a mystery.
If the former is true, I can roll my eyes and laugh at the whole thing. Me, potentially dangerous? I’m a vegetarian who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally! When I get a fly in my apartment, I open up all the windows and doors and try to shoo him out. I’ve got a humane bug vacuum at work and whenever I encounter wasps or ants in my department, I suck them up and release them outside. Even after one of the wasps stung me, I still released him. And I’m constantly badgering my friends and family to avoid killing household mice with barbaric snap/glue traps and instead use a humane trap to capture them and release them outside. How could they think that someone like me was possibly going to, like, kick in the front door of my high school and let loose with a machine gun? I may not have liked 90% of the student body, and I may have smiled at the thought of horrific things happening to some of them, but I’m no killer. So putting me on that list was a bit misguided, to say the least.
If the latter is true, then I’m offended! I mean, okay, I’ve been out of high school for 14 years, so it’s not like I’m sitting here with my veins still pulsating in rage over the fact that my high school thought I needed to be Stepfordized. That was a long time ago, after all. But it’s still offensive, because despite my clinical depression and all my teen angst (and there was a lot of it, y’all!), I was a good kid. With the exception of math and science (my weakest subjects), my grades were excellent. I participated in school clubs and was involved in the school musical every year. I was on the yearbook staff. I wrote for the school newspaper and literary magazine. I entered a Voice of Democracy essay contest, for chrissake. I was quiet, docile, obedient. I never skipped class. I always did my homework. I didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, or have sex. I didn’t throw wild parties or date-rape my peers. There was one incident involving a German workbook that landed two friends and me in in-school suspension for a day, but…ahem…we won’t get into that here. With the exception of that unfortunate incident, I think the worst thing I did within the confines of the school was get into trouble with my 9th grade Honors English teacher for reading an issue of Royalty Monthly during a screening of Romeo and Juliet. Ooooh…wicked!
My crime was being too quiet, too sad-looking, and having dyed-black hair and a penchant for wearing black clothes. (I didn’t wear them all the time, mind you, because my access to an extensive black wardrobe was limited in my hometown.) My friends and I were sweetly dorky and smart, and we had dark, inappropriate senses of humor and creative flair, and that’s what made us suspicious. Not to mention the fact that we didn’t go out of our way to fit in. We were all such good kids, and we didn’t overtly try to be rebellious nonconformists or anything, but we also made little-to-no effort to fit in. We just kind of did our own thing, pigeon-holing be damned.
There’s a quote I love: “The opposite of conformity isn’t nonconformity—it’s indifference to the fact.” That’s how we operated, I guess—by simply not caring about how the game was played and how we could try harder at playing it. We weren’t easily categorized and labeled. We slid through the cracks of the social strata. This vexed and downright infuriated some of the teachers and students, I’m sure, but we didn’t care. We’d found our own magic. And that, apparently, is the biggest crime you can commit in the high school universe: thumbing your nose at the status quo. Not trying to break it down, but simply not caring.
And so it bugs me that the authorities could look at someone like me and deign me as being in need of social salvation. I was a well-behaved, academically-inclined student who had well-behaved, academically-inclined friends. I didn’t need social salvation.
Some authorities undoubtedly think these watch lists are beneficial, especially in this post-Columbine world of ours. And yeah, it’s true that a kid could go apeshit at any moment and wage a killing spree in the halls. And it’s true that perhaps this kid could’ve been stopped if people had been paying more attention to his state of crisis. But is dabbing a scarlet letter on loners and miserable-looking kids really a reasonable response? Will it actually change anything? I was on my school’s watch list, but no one ever said anything to me about it. No one ever recommended me for counseling or asked me how I was feeling. No one ever asked if they could do anything to make me feel better. No one ever applauded me for being unafraid to do my own thing, to not kow-tow to the pressures of conformity. They just watched me with distain from afar. If I had been planning mass murder, simply being on a watch list wouldn’t have stopped me!
What we need is a better climate of tolerance in schools. Kids will be kids—there will always be a shitload of barbarians and bullies in each school, and an overwhelming culture of conformity. But perhaps there wouldn’t be as many if schools taught children, from the very beginning, not to spurn uniqueness. And teachers should know better than to target kids for being different. Unfortunately, some of the teachers in my school didn’t. They worshipped the jocks and preps and ignored the rest of us. They didn’t try to encourage uniqueness or creativity. They didn’t compliment us on our individualism. They either ignored us or tsk-tsk-tsked at us. Or they automatically thought of us as being a threat. And that’s the kind of abhorrent behavior that merits a watch list!
Cultivating acceptance and tolerance wouldn’t completely eradicate the problem of kids shooting up their schools, but I really do believe—and not in an unrealistic Pollyanna way—that it could greatly minimize this threat. No matter what you do, you can’t weed out every psychopath, can’t stave off every homicidal nervous breakdown. But wouldn’t students be less likely to mow down their peers in a hail of bullets if those peers had always treated them with respect? If they didn’t torment them, try to minimize them, or cast them in the role of outcast freak just because they didn’t fit into a standardized mold? If students were just as supportive of their classmates’ artistic and academic abilities as they were of their other classmates’ athletic and social abilities? It just seems like fostering an atmosphere of tolerance would be more effective than sticking kids on a pseudo-terrorist watch list.
Or maybe I’m simply grasping at straws here.
song heard most recently before posting: Black—Pearl Jam
If the former is true, I can roll my eyes and laugh at the whole thing. Me, potentially dangerous? I’m a vegetarian who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally! When I get a fly in my apartment, I open up all the windows and doors and try to shoo him out. I’ve got a humane bug vacuum at work and whenever I encounter wasps or ants in my department, I suck them up and release them outside. Even after one of the wasps stung me, I still released him. And I’m constantly badgering my friends and family to avoid killing household mice with barbaric snap/glue traps and instead use a humane trap to capture them and release them outside. How could they think that someone like me was possibly going to, like, kick in the front door of my high school and let loose with a machine gun? I may not have liked 90% of the student body, and I may have smiled at the thought of horrific things happening to some of them, but I’m no killer. So putting me on that list was a bit misguided, to say the least.
If the latter is true, then I’m offended! I mean, okay, I’ve been out of high school for 14 years, so it’s not like I’m sitting here with my veins still pulsating in rage over the fact that my high school thought I needed to be Stepfordized. That was a long time ago, after all. But it’s still offensive, because despite my clinical depression and all my teen angst (and there was a lot of it, y’all!), I was a good kid. With the exception of math and science (my weakest subjects), my grades were excellent. I participated in school clubs and was involved in the school musical every year. I was on the yearbook staff. I wrote for the school newspaper and literary magazine. I entered a Voice of Democracy essay contest, for chrissake. I was quiet, docile, obedient. I never skipped class. I always did my homework. I didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, or have sex. I didn’t throw wild parties or date-rape my peers. There was one incident involving a German workbook that landed two friends and me in in-school suspension for a day, but…ahem…we won’t get into that here. With the exception of that unfortunate incident, I think the worst thing I did within the confines of the school was get into trouble with my 9th grade Honors English teacher for reading an issue of Royalty Monthly during a screening of Romeo and Juliet. Ooooh…wicked!
My crime was being too quiet, too sad-looking, and having dyed-black hair and a penchant for wearing black clothes. (I didn’t wear them all the time, mind you, because my access to an extensive black wardrobe was limited in my hometown.) My friends and I were sweetly dorky and smart, and we had dark, inappropriate senses of humor and creative flair, and that’s what made us suspicious. Not to mention the fact that we didn’t go out of our way to fit in. We were all such good kids, and we didn’t overtly try to be rebellious nonconformists or anything, but we also made little-to-no effort to fit in. We just kind of did our own thing, pigeon-holing be damned.
There’s a quote I love: “The opposite of conformity isn’t nonconformity—it’s indifference to the fact.” That’s how we operated, I guess—by simply not caring about how the game was played and how we could try harder at playing it. We weren’t easily categorized and labeled. We slid through the cracks of the social strata. This vexed and downright infuriated some of the teachers and students, I’m sure, but we didn’t care. We’d found our own magic. And that, apparently, is the biggest crime you can commit in the high school universe: thumbing your nose at the status quo. Not trying to break it down, but simply not caring.
And so it bugs me that the authorities could look at someone like me and deign me as being in need of social salvation. I was a well-behaved, academically-inclined student who had well-behaved, academically-inclined friends. I didn’t need social salvation.
Some authorities undoubtedly think these watch lists are beneficial, especially in this post-Columbine world of ours. And yeah, it’s true that a kid could go apeshit at any moment and wage a killing spree in the halls. And it’s true that perhaps this kid could’ve been stopped if people had been paying more attention to his state of crisis. But is dabbing a scarlet letter on loners and miserable-looking kids really a reasonable response? Will it actually change anything? I was on my school’s watch list, but no one ever said anything to me about it. No one ever recommended me for counseling or asked me how I was feeling. No one ever asked if they could do anything to make me feel better. No one ever applauded me for being unafraid to do my own thing, to not kow-tow to the pressures of conformity. They just watched me with distain from afar. If I had been planning mass murder, simply being on a watch list wouldn’t have stopped me!
What we need is a better climate of tolerance in schools. Kids will be kids—there will always be a shitload of barbarians and bullies in each school, and an overwhelming culture of conformity. But perhaps there wouldn’t be as many if schools taught children, from the very beginning, not to spurn uniqueness. And teachers should know better than to target kids for being different. Unfortunately, some of the teachers in my school didn’t. They worshipped the jocks and preps and ignored the rest of us. They didn’t try to encourage uniqueness or creativity. They didn’t compliment us on our individualism. They either ignored us or tsk-tsk-tsked at us. Or they automatically thought of us as being a threat. And that’s the kind of abhorrent behavior that merits a watch list!
Cultivating acceptance and tolerance wouldn’t completely eradicate the problem of kids shooting up their schools, but I really do believe—and not in an unrealistic Pollyanna way—that it could greatly minimize this threat. No matter what you do, you can’t weed out every psychopath, can’t stave off every homicidal nervous breakdown. But wouldn’t students be less likely to mow down their peers in a hail of bullets if those peers had always treated them with respect? If they didn’t torment them, try to minimize them, or cast them in the role of outcast freak just because they didn’t fit into a standardized mold? If students were just as supportive of their classmates’ artistic and academic abilities as they were of their other classmates’ athletic and social abilities? It just seems like fostering an atmosphere of tolerance would be more effective than sticking kids on a pseudo-terrorist watch list.
Or maybe I’m simply grasping at straws here.
song heard most recently before posting: Black—Pearl Jam
Monday, August 21, 2006
"Most Hated" questionnaire
A day later, I’m still reeling from that goddamn Six Feet Under finale. I cried off and on throughout the evening, including during my shower, and this morning when I was driving to work, I decided to be a masochist and blast Sia’s song “Breathe Me,” which is what played during the wrenching final scene of SFU. I’ve liked this song ever since I first heard it on a mix made for me by my friend David, but it now has a new, and somewhat devastating, meaning. A meaning that made me bawl during the first half of my commute. (I finally forced myself to focus on other things and listen to different music so my eyes would have a chance to dry out before I lurched into my office.)
It got under my skin so badly. It’s a suit of barbed fishhooks lodged into every pore. I still have knots clenching and unclenching in my stomach. In the past, whenever I thought about my loved ones dying, I thought of it in terms of isolated incidents. One person dying in a few years’ time, another person following suit a few years after that, and so on. I never thought of the whole cohesive picture: the fact that someday, everyone I love will be dead, and I could very well be the last person standing. I just can’t imagine outliving everyone. And my family is tiny to begin with. What if, god/dess forbid, I outlive them and have no family left whom I’m close to? (That’s assuming I never marry someone with a big family and/or have kids of my own.) Who will be with me when I finally die? I’m not a person who hates and/or fears aloneness—I absolutely relish it—but I want it to be my choice. I don’t want to be abandoned by everybody through death. What if I outlive all my friends like my grandfather has done? How would I survive going through loss after loss after loss? The mere thought of it horrifies me. I don’t want to live to be 102 and have no one left when I’m at my most helpless and vulnerable point. I don’t want to be the last person left to keep everyone’s memories alive.
I know that, barring any major terrorist attacks or bird flu outbreaks, all of this is so far away, but life speeds by so quickly—we all know that.
I suspect that all of this would be easier to digest if I were religious and had some clear idea of what exists after death. My rational mind says that nothing exists, and you just enter nothingness. But part of me wants to cling to the idea of reincarnation or a heaven like that seen in The Lovely Bones. If I had absolute faith that this is what I’d find, maybe I’d be better equipped to handle the thought of losing everyone bit by bit.
Anyway.
To distract myself, I filled out one of those questionnaire thingies circulating across the net. Here goes:
MOST HATED...
FRUIT: coconut (yeah, it’s considered a fruit)
CANDY: dark chocolate
BEVERAGE: A tie between iced tea and lemonade.
COLOR: teal
TOWN/CITY: Probably Newark and Elizabeth, and that whole bleak industrial area in New Jersey that’s just over the river from Manhattan.
TV SHOW: Nothing in particular...I guess any one of the sleazier-than-thou reality shows currently populating the airwaves.
MOVIE: There are some movies I didn’t like that everyone else seems to think are da bomb: Slingblade, Moulin Rouge, American Beauty...and probably more that I’m just not thinking of right now.
ASPECT OF MYSPACE: I don’t use MySpace.
ASPECT OF INSTANT MESSENGER: I never IM anymore. I used AIM on occasion in the past, to chat with friends, but I haven’t done that in at least a year, if not longer.
ANIMAL: I don’t hate any animals!
INSECT: The mosquitoes in St. Petersburg. The mosquitoes around here are bad enough, but I’ve built up a resistance to them, so I recover from their bites within, like, a half hour. But the mosquitoes in St. Petersburg left welts that took weeks to fade.
BIRD: I don’t hate any birds, but I do hate their shit that is splattered all over my birdfeeder.
SEASON: Summer. Well, the extreme heat and humidity. The other aspects of it are fine.
AGE OF KIDS: I don’t have any kids, so I’m not sure which age is my least favorite. The teen years, maybe?
...WHAT ANNOYS YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING WHEN...
DRIVING?: Tailgaters, people who don’t use their turn signals, rubberneckers, people who leave their blinkers on even when they don’t plan to turn/switch lanes, people who drive too fast, people who drive too slow, people who drive in two lanes.
TALKING ON THE PHONE: In general, I’m not a big fan of talking on the phone. I try to avoid it as much as I can. Worst part? When people call during one of my can’t-miss TV shows. I don’t answer!
WATCHING TV OR MOVIES: Watching TV: too many commercials, and those semi-transparent logos that now stay on the screen all the time (and sometimes even make sounds, too!). Watching movies: at the cinema, I hate noisy people—especially teenagers! Also, chair-kickers and people who noisily chew their popcorn and candy and noisily slurp their sodas.
EATING IN RESTAURANTS: Kids running wild, and a lack of vegetarian dishes. Also, now that all the restaurants in my county are smoke-free, I can no longer stand dining in restaurants where people smoke.
GOING THROUGH DRIVE-THRUS: Intercoms that are crackly and make the employee’s voice difficult to hear. Also, there seems to be an increased risk that they will screw up your order.
YOU’RE AT THE MALL: Loud teenagers (I know; I sound like I’m 80 years old), people who leave no room for me to walk around them, people who stand two astride on the escalator, rather than keeping open a passing lane. That said, I rarely go to malls anymore.
SLEEPING (OR TRYING TO SLEEP): On weekend mornings, when my upstairs neighbors wake me up with their screamed prayers, hymn dirges, and clomping footfalls. And, as much as I love my cats, I hate when Plath screams and screams on weekend mornings (he wants breakfast), and when both cats paw at my pillow for some reason which remains unknown to me.
SHOWERING: The size of my shower. It’s so damn small.
YOU’RE AT THE BEACH: Kids running pell-mell across the beach, kicking sand onto my blanket and disrupting the tranquility of the setting.
YOU’RE AT THE GROCERY STORE: People who leave their carts blocking an aisle, people who pay with checks (it’s so sloooow!)
WHAT HOUSEHOLD CHORE DO YOU HATE THE MOST?: God, all of it. I hate cleaning, hate taking out the garbage, hate paying bills.
WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD BE THE ABSOLUTE WORST WAY TO DIE?: In pain and/or in terror, like in a plane crash, or being burned alive. Where you know it’s happening and know you can’t do anything but suffer and wallow in terror and let it happen. Dying alone and having nobody discover the body for yonks.
WHAT’S THE MOST ANNOYING HABIT IN OTHERS?: Too many to choose! Excessive talking, invading my personal space, cell phone dependency...
WHAT IS YOUR WORST HABIT?: procrastination and laziness
WHAT FASHION TREND (PAST OR PRESENT) HAVE YOU HATED THE MOST?: I really don’t like trends in general. Just because some nameless, faceless person in NYC or Milan says that flares are out and gauchos are in, you have to obey them? Bollocks! I say: wear what you like, when you like. Don’t feel obliged to change your whole damn wardrobe every season just to be trendy! But, that said, I think that most—if not all—of the fashion trends of the early ’90s were particularly disastrous. And I’m ashamed to say that I used to peg my jeans all the time back then.
WHAT POPULAR SONG (PAST OR PRESENT) HAVE YOU HATED THE MOST?: Oh god, there are so many songs that fill me with rage. Two Dave Matthews songs in particular fill me with rage (“Ants Marching” and that “What Would You Say” song), “Lovesexy” from The Cardigans, that “every time I look at you I go blind” song from Hootie and the Blowfish, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You,” super-repetitive dance/techno songs, most country songs, most rap and hip hop songs.
WORST OR MOST HATED PICKUP LINE: Nobody ever uses pickup lines on me! *sniffs*
TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT GIRLS/WOMEN?: Too much of that “Oh, I’m nothing without a man!” nonsense.
TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT GUYS?: Not enough sensitivity.
song heard most recently before posting: Szombateste Búcsúztató—Muzsikás
It got under my skin so badly. It’s a suit of barbed fishhooks lodged into every pore. I still have knots clenching and unclenching in my stomach. In the past, whenever I thought about my loved ones dying, I thought of it in terms of isolated incidents. One person dying in a few years’ time, another person following suit a few years after that, and so on. I never thought of the whole cohesive picture: the fact that someday, everyone I love will be dead, and I could very well be the last person standing. I just can’t imagine outliving everyone. And my family is tiny to begin with. What if, god/dess forbid, I outlive them and have no family left whom I’m close to? (That’s assuming I never marry someone with a big family and/or have kids of my own.) Who will be with me when I finally die? I’m not a person who hates and/or fears aloneness—I absolutely relish it—but I want it to be my choice. I don’t want to be abandoned by everybody through death. What if I outlive all my friends like my grandfather has done? How would I survive going through loss after loss after loss? The mere thought of it horrifies me. I don’t want to live to be 102 and have no one left when I’m at my most helpless and vulnerable point. I don’t want to be the last person left to keep everyone’s memories alive.
I know that, barring any major terrorist attacks or bird flu outbreaks, all of this is so far away, but life speeds by so quickly—we all know that.
I suspect that all of this would be easier to digest if I were religious and had some clear idea of what exists after death. My rational mind says that nothing exists, and you just enter nothingness. But part of me wants to cling to the idea of reincarnation or a heaven like that seen in The Lovely Bones. If I had absolute faith that this is what I’d find, maybe I’d be better equipped to handle the thought of losing everyone bit by bit.
Anyway.
To distract myself, I filled out one of those questionnaire thingies circulating across the net. Here goes:
MOST HATED...
FRUIT: coconut (yeah, it’s considered a fruit)
CANDY: dark chocolate
BEVERAGE: A tie between iced tea and lemonade.
COLOR: teal
TOWN/CITY: Probably Newark and Elizabeth, and that whole bleak industrial area in New Jersey that’s just over the river from Manhattan.
TV SHOW: Nothing in particular...I guess any one of the sleazier-than-thou reality shows currently populating the airwaves.
MOVIE: There are some movies I didn’t like that everyone else seems to think are da bomb: Slingblade, Moulin Rouge, American Beauty...and probably more that I’m just not thinking of right now.
ASPECT OF MYSPACE: I don’t use MySpace.
ASPECT OF INSTANT MESSENGER: I never IM anymore. I used AIM on occasion in the past, to chat with friends, but I haven’t done that in at least a year, if not longer.
ANIMAL: I don’t hate any animals!
INSECT: The mosquitoes in St. Petersburg. The mosquitoes around here are bad enough, but I’ve built up a resistance to them, so I recover from their bites within, like, a half hour. But the mosquitoes in St. Petersburg left welts that took weeks to fade.
BIRD: I don’t hate any birds, but I do hate their shit that is splattered all over my birdfeeder.
SEASON: Summer. Well, the extreme heat and humidity. The other aspects of it are fine.
AGE OF KIDS: I don’t have any kids, so I’m not sure which age is my least favorite. The teen years, maybe?
...WHAT ANNOYS YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING WHEN...
DRIVING?: Tailgaters, people who don’t use their turn signals, rubberneckers, people who leave their blinkers on even when they don’t plan to turn/switch lanes, people who drive too fast, people who drive too slow, people who drive in two lanes.
TALKING ON THE PHONE: In general, I’m not a big fan of talking on the phone. I try to avoid it as much as I can. Worst part? When people call during one of my can’t-miss TV shows. I don’t answer!
WATCHING TV OR MOVIES: Watching TV: too many commercials, and those semi-transparent logos that now stay on the screen all the time (and sometimes even make sounds, too!). Watching movies: at the cinema, I hate noisy people—especially teenagers! Also, chair-kickers and people who noisily chew their popcorn and candy and noisily slurp their sodas.
EATING IN RESTAURANTS: Kids running wild, and a lack of vegetarian dishes. Also, now that all the restaurants in my county are smoke-free, I can no longer stand dining in restaurants where people smoke.
GOING THROUGH DRIVE-THRUS: Intercoms that are crackly and make the employee’s voice difficult to hear. Also, there seems to be an increased risk that they will screw up your order.
YOU’RE AT THE MALL: Loud teenagers (I know; I sound like I’m 80 years old), people who leave no room for me to walk around them, people who stand two astride on the escalator, rather than keeping open a passing lane. That said, I rarely go to malls anymore.
SLEEPING (OR TRYING TO SLEEP): On weekend mornings, when my upstairs neighbors wake me up with their screamed prayers, hymn dirges, and clomping footfalls. And, as much as I love my cats, I hate when Plath screams and screams on weekend mornings (he wants breakfast), and when both cats paw at my pillow for some reason which remains unknown to me.
SHOWERING: The size of my shower. It’s so damn small.
YOU’RE AT THE BEACH: Kids running pell-mell across the beach, kicking sand onto my blanket and disrupting the tranquility of the setting.
YOU’RE AT THE GROCERY STORE: People who leave their carts blocking an aisle, people who pay with checks (it’s so sloooow!)
WHAT HOUSEHOLD CHORE DO YOU HATE THE MOST?: God, all of it. I hate cleaning, hate taking out the garbage, hate paying bills.
WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD BE THE ABSOLUTE WORST WAY TO DIE?: In pain and/or in terror, like in a plane crash, or being burned alive. Where you know it’s happening and know you can’t do anything but suffer and wallow in terror and let it happen. Dying alone and having nobody discover the body for yonks.
WHAT’S THE MOST ANNOYING HABIT IN OTHERS?: Too many to choose! Excessive talking, invading my personal space, cell phone dependency...
WHAT IS YOUR WORST HABIT?: procrastination and laziness
WHAT FASHION TREND (PAST OR PRESENT) HAVE YOU HATED THE MOST?: I really don’t like trends in general. Just because some nameless, faceless person in NYC or Milan says that flares are out and gauchos are in, you have to obey them? Bollocks! I say: wear what you like, when you like. Don’t feel obliged to change your whole damn wardrobe every season just to be trendy! But, that said, I think that most—if not all—of the fashion trends of the early ’90s were particularly disastrous. And I’m ashamed to say that I used to peg my jeans all the time back then.
WHAT POPULAR SONG (PAST OR PRESENT) HAVE YOU HATED THE MOST?: Oh god, there are so many songs that fill me with rage. Two Dave Matthews songs in particular fill me with rage (“Ants Marching” and that “What Would You Say” song), “Lovesexy” from The Cardigans, that “every time I look at you I go blind” song from Hootie and the Blowfish, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You,” super-repetitive dance/techno songs, most country songs, most rap and hip hop songs.
WORST OR MOST HATED PICKUP LINE: Nobody ever uses pickup lines on me! *sniffs*
TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT GIRLS/WOMEN?: Too much of that “Oh, I’m nothing without a man!” nonsense.
TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT GUYS?: Not enough sensitivity.
song heard most recently before posting: Szombateste Búcsúztató—Muzsikás
Sunday, August 20, 2006
swollen eyes
Happy 1st Birthday, Peyton Avery Carron!!!
Oh, the brutzing! The brutzing! Over the course of this weekend, amidst my standard load of freelancing, I worked my way through the final episodes of Six Feet Under. I was fully prepared to bawl when Nate died and during the series finale; I was equipped with a massive wad of toilet paper tucked into the sofa the whole time (I’m running low on tissues!). Oh, god, did I cry when Nate died. And afterwards. But the dam really burst during the final episode, as Claire drove off into the sunset, and I saw all those snippets of the main characters’ futures, including their eventual deaths. It just tore out my fucking heart and I had the gasping sobs to prove it. (Although I didn’t cry until I vomited, like Missy did when she watched the episode.)
This was such a tremendously brilliant show—albeit teeth-gnashingly frustrating at times—and seeing it end was difficult. But that wasn’t the overwhelming reason for the tears. As is usually the case when I cry when watching a movie/TV show or reading a book, the luminously sad event unfurling onscreen (or on the page) acts as a catalyst, giving me the good, therapeutic cry I need but can’t initiate at will. It’s a catalyst that triggers all the pent-up gloom I have no reason to acknowledge on any given day: an amalgam of it’s so easy for things to go horrifically wrong and this could be the last day everything is okay and everyone I love is going to die. Maybe not for 80 years, but it will happen. As the tagline to Six Feet Under says: Everything, everyone, everywhere ends.
I’m not professing ignorance about this. I know death is the only thing on earth that is inevitable. But I try not to walk around each day thinking about it. I try not to think about the fact that any given day could be the future anniversary of my death or the future anniversary of a loved one’s death. I’m not denying death—I just don’t want it swim in it. I accept that death is natural and inevitable, and, to a certain extent, I’m not even afraid of it. But I am afraid of losing everyone I love over time, having them chipped away from me piecemeal. And really, at the end of the day, that is one of my most all-encompassing fears: I don’t want to outlive everyone I love.
I’m not eager to rush to the grave just yet—I’d like to live a satisfactorily long life, thank you very much—but I still want to die before my family and friends. I suppose that makes me selfish, but I don’t care. I flinch at the thought of going through the rigors of sorrow over and over. Finally coming to terms with one loss, only to be sideswiped by another. Watching the layers of my tribe peel away, one after another. That ongoing litany of grief every time I’m forced to let another person go.
I have the utmost admiration for people who end up in the position of outliving all the people they truly love, be it through the ordinary passage of time or through a cataclysmic event such as genocide, plague, famine, war. How do they do it? How do they keep going forward without ramming a white flag into the ground to announce their surrender?
song heard most recently before posting: Suite No. 6 in D Major, Courante—JS Bach
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Joyeux Anniversaire!
Happy 29th Birthday, Scott Peyton!!!
song heard most recently before posting: The Gunner’s Dream—Pink Floyd
song heard most recently before posting: The Gunner’s Dream—Pink Floyd
Monday, August 14, 2006
burn baby burn
I just got a pension fund update and it says that my “Normal Retirement Date” is July 1, 2039. Oh lord. Do I really have to wait 33 years before I can retire? It doesn’t come as a surprise or anything, but it’s still depressing to know that I’ll have to wait that long. Then again, the world will surely end long before my working life does. HAW HAW HAW!
I played hooky on Friday and went to the biyotch (Delaware Beaches State Park, more specifically). There were some traveling…uh…snafus, mainly because my experiences with driving to Delaware always involved going to Missy’s house in Milton, and this time I wanted to head straight to Rt. 1, rather than detouring through Milton. You wouldn’t think that simply following 404 to Rt. 1 would be an issue, but apparently it is. The roads aren’t always marked clearly and all roads in southern Delaware look identical: flat and surrounded by cornfields. So I hit some snags during both journeys, but ultimately I was able to enjoy 6 ½ hours on the beach. Although it was a bit more crowded than I expected, it was still light years better than what I would’ve found in Rehoboth, Dewey, or Bethany, I’m sure.
Later, as I sped toward Rt. 50, the sun began to set in a modestly gorgeous way. The sunset lingered, too, so it was still around when I hit the Bay Bridge. What a nifty little thrill: arcing across the bridge and straight into the colors that were stretching and sinking before me—colors that turned the Chesapeake a marvelous shade of pale Caribbean blue.
looking over at the eastbound side of the
bridge (the pic seems faded because my
flash accidentally went off)
hurtling westward across the bridge
The day was beautiful and I was in no rush to return home and resume working. So, I decided to stroll through the sculpture gardens at the National Gallery of Art
and the Hirshhorn. I’ve been to both gardens a few times, but I’ve never taken digital pictures nor Fisheye pictures in either garden. So that’s what I did.
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Then I strolled up to the Washington Monument to take some photos from its base—another thing I’ve never done.
My my...this flagpole is as big
as the Washington Monument!
Then it was back to reality…
song heard most recently before posting: Boys of Summer—Don Henley
I played hooky on Friday and went to the biyotch (Delaware Beaches State Park, more specifically). There were some traveling…uh…snafus, mainly because my experiences with driving to Delaware always involved going to Missy’s house in Milton, and this time I wanted to head straight to Rt. 1, rather than detouring through Milton. You wouldn’t think that simply following 404 to Rt. 1 would be an issue, but apparently it is. The roads aren’t always marked clearly and all roads in southern Delaware look identical: flat and surrounded by cornfields. So I hit some snags during both journeys, but ultimately I was able to enjoy 6 ½ hours on the beach. Although it was a bit more crowded than I expected, it was still light years better than what I would’ve found in Rehoboth, Dewey, or Bethany, I’m sure.
The weather was pitch-perfect: sunny and warm (around 80º), with a stiff sea breeze. I had my boss’s beach umbrella and SPF 50 sunblock to keep me safe, but still managed to get a patchy and painful burn on my lower back, the back of my shoulders, and the back of my legs. Freckles sprang out everywhere and my hair became a rat’s nest…but ahhh…the joy of frolicking in the ocean! Does anything compare? Still, the undertow was quite fierce and I repeatedly found myself like a quarter of a mile down-beach from where I started. And the waves were a bit violent; I was spun in circles and knocked flat more times than I can count, which means that I swallowed an unfortunate amount of salt water and ended up retching a few times. Periodically I stumbled from the ocean back to my encampment and collapsed onto the ground, vertigo having its merry way with me. When the spinning stopped, I pulled out one of the three books I’m currently reading and spent some time relaxing, drying out, reading, and people-watching. I gathered some mini shells and made a big ol’ spiral in the sand. Buried my legs in the sand to warm them up (the breeze made things surprisingly chilly!). Snapped Fisheye and digital photos. Ate my packed lunch from Subway.
Later, as I sped toward Rt. 50, the sun began to set in a modestly gorgeous way. The sunset lingered, too, so it was still around when I hit the Bay Bridge. What a nifty little thrill: arcing across the bridge and straight into the colors that were stretching and sinking before me—colors that turned the Chesapeake a marvelous shade of pale Caribbean blue.
looking over at the eastbound side of thebridge (the pic seems faded because my
flash accidentally went off)
hurtling westward across the bridgeThe rest of my weekend was pretty much spent working, although I did take some time out on Saturday to check out the Jim Henson exhibit at the National Museum of American History. What a disappointment! There were only like three tiny displays containing a minimum of detail about his life and a handful of the original Muppets. On a different floor I stumbled across two more displays containing items from Dark Crystal and the Jug Otter Christmas special. The exhibit was miniscule and scattered. WTF! A topic like this has enormous potential, and the NMAH really squandered a golden opportunity. However, the exhibit did contain the original Rowlf, so that made it all worthwhile! Because, as everyone who knows me knows, Rowlf’s my man!
Rowlf was behind glass, so I couldn’t use my flash,
which is why this photo is dark
which is why this photo is dark
The day was beautiful and I was in no rush to return home and resume working. So, I decided to stroll through the sculpture gardens at the National Gallery of Art
and the Hirshhorn. I’ve been to both gardens a few times, but I’ve never taken digital pictures nor Fisheye pictures in either garden. So that’s what I did.
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Then I strolled up to the Washington Monument to take some photos from its base—another thing I’ve never done.
My my...this flagpole is as big as the Washington Monument!
Then it was back to reality…
song heard most recently before posting: Boys of Summer—Don Henley
Thursday, August 10, 2006
terrorism begins at home
So how about that foiled terrorist plot in England, huh? This one in particular reeled me in because of that short vacation to London I’m thinking about taking this fall. Will this cause me to change my mind? Hell to the no! If I ultimately decide to make the trip, then I will make the trip. If I decide to postpone it until the spring, then I will be doing so because of financial and/or time issues—not because of a fear of terrorists.
Look, I’m the same as anybody else: I don’t want to die in a terrorist attack. I don’t want to become a casualty of extreme, mindless violence. I don’t want to become a statistic in this so-called “war on terror,” a notch in some jihad-happy terrorist’s bedpost. But I don’t want to cripple my life, either. I don’t want to surrender my vacation, or avoid riding the tube or busses when I’m in London. I live a mere 10 miles from the White House, but I don’t want to avoid going into DC and riding the Metro. This weekend, if I can squeeze out the time amidst my freelancing schedule, I’d like to hit the Jim Henson exhibit at the National Museum of American History, and because parking near the Mall can be a bitch on weekends—especially during high tourist season—I will take the Metro. I don’t live in Tel Aviv or Beirut or Baghdad, but the threat of terrorism is always real. It could happen. But I don’t want to put my puny social activities on hold just because of what could happen.
If I do go to London this fall and terrorists knock my plane out of the sky or my tube out of the ground, well, it’d be a damn shame, but at least I’d have my affairs in order. I have a will, I have assigned guardians for my cats, I have two life insurance policies. I can’t do much more than catch that plane and hope for the best.
On a completely unrelated note—and one that is highly frivolous, all things considered—I’m planning to take off work tomorrow and go to the beach for the day. I haven’t gone swimming in the ocean since 2002, so lately I’ve been thinking about how lovely it would be to spend a day alternately bobbing around in the waves and lolling on the sand, reading a book and napping. I’ve got my SPF 50 sunblock, I borrowed a beach umbrella from my boss and a cooler from my sister, and I’m planning to buy a large beach towel tonight. I’ll hit Subway at some point and buy myself a tasty lunch for the cooler. I’ll head out by 7:30am tomorrow, hopefully getting to Delaware Beaches State Park by 11am. Mmm-mm!
song heard most recently before posting: Woman Like a Man—Damien Rice
Look, I’m the same as anybody else: I don’t want to die in a terrorist attack. I don’t want to become a casualty of extreme, mindless violence. I don’t want to become a statistic in this so-called “war on terror,” a notch in some jihad-happy terrorist’s bedpost. But I don’t want to cripple my life, either. I don’t want to surrender my vacation, or avoid riding the tube or busses when I’m in London. I live a mere 10 miles from the White House, but I don’t want to avoid going into DC and riding the Metro. This weekend, if I can squeeze out the time amidst my freelancing schedule, I’d like to hit the Jim Henson exhibit at the National Museum of American History, and because parking near the Mall can be a bitch on weekends—especially during high tourist season—I will take the Metro. I don’t live in Tel Aviv or Beirut or Baghdad, but the threat of terrorism is always real. It could happen. But I don’t want to put my puny social activities on hold just because of what could happen.
If I do go to London this fall and terrorists knock my plane out of the sky or my tube out of the ground, well, it’d be a damn shame, but at least I’d have my affairs in order. I have a will, I have assigned guardians for my cats, I have two life insurance policies. I can’t do much more than catch that plane and hope for the best.
On a completely unrelated note—and one that is highly frivolous, all things considered—I’m planning to take off work tomorrow and go to the beach for the day. I haven’t gone swimming in the ocean since 2002, so lately I’ve been thinking about how lovely it would be to spend a day alternately bobbing around in the waves and lolling on the sand, reading a book and napping. I’ve got my SPF 50 sunblock, I borrowed a beach umbrella from my boss and a cooler from my sister, and I’m planning to buy a large beach towel tonight. I’ll hit Subway at some point and buy myself a tasty lunch for the cooler. I’ll head out by 7:30am tomorrow, hopefully getting to Delaware Beaches State Park by 11am. Mmm-mm!
song heard most recently before posting: Woman Like a Man—Damien Rice
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
The light was so strange when I woke up this morning—a kind of yellowish gray that was both lovely and alarming. Ever since my tornado, oddly-colored skies make me a bit nervous, even while they enthrall me.
I ended up taking bereavement leave yesterday to go to my great-aunt Mag’s funeral. But here’s the thing: we missed the freaking funeral. Initially my sister and I were making great time, and we even stopped at a Giant en route to Lebanon to pick up flowers for Mag’s coffin. But on the Turnpike, halfway between Harrisburg and Lebanon, we saw a sign saying that there was an accident ahead and we had to prepare to stop. We ground to a halt at 8:50am, and we initially thought we’d still have time to make it to the funeral, which was scheduled to begin at 10am.
However, the accident involved a gigantic truck that hit the concrete median and burst into flames. In other words, this was no tiny thing. Around 9:15, after being unable to find any sort of traffic report on the radio, Kristen called Mom and had her hop on the Turnpike’s website. It revealed that there was a truck fire and the Turnpike wasn’t expected to reopen until 11am. Oy. So Kristen called Dad and Jill’s cell phones and left messages for both of them, as well as calling her husband to give him the scoop, in case Dad didn’t check his cell phone and instead called Kristen’s house to see where we were.
The Turnpike reopened around 11:10am, meaning that we’d been sitting there, with the car idling to keep the a/c running, for two hours and twenty minutes. Meanwhile, poor Kristen desperately had to pee during our wait, so she finally had to resort to peeing in her McDonald’s orange juice cup. Desperate times call for desperate measures!
After the Turnpike reopened, we hit construction, which closed one lane of traffic for several miles, leaving us to shuffle along at 5 mph. When we passed the scene of the wreck, Kristen said that the smell was awful and it was one of those rare times when I was actually glad to be an anosmic. The road was charred and the truck was a vast, burnt-out shell, with burned debris scattered everywhere. I don’t know how anybody could have survived the crash, or if anybody did.
So we missed the funeral altogether, but we still got to catch up with a small contingent of relatives at my uncle’s house in Lebanon, where we arrived at noon. That was cool, especially since I haven’t seen my cousins in years. We just missed seeing my cousin Suzanne’s 20-year-old son, Ian, which is unfortunate, because he recently did some Marine training in the highlands of Scotland, including Glen Coe, which was my favorite place during my ’03 trip; I would’ve loved to have discussed it with him! As it was, we spent a lot of time talking about how much we used to hate getting dragged to CCD and mass, and how brain tumors and other head disorders run rampant in our family. Hot.
We stayed for two hours and then Kristen and I stopped for lunch at Friendly’s (where, shocker!, I ate until I was borderline-sick). Afterwards we headed back to her place, which gave me a chance to spend some more time with Olivia before I hit the road.
This past weekend was my first weekend of not working in months. How refreshing! I slept, read, watched DVDs (more Six Feet Under episodes, and East/West, one of my all-time favorite movies), and dawdled as a lady of leisure. It was superb. I also made long-overdue updates to my website.
On Saturday evening, I went to these...uh...ruins...in DC that I spotted a few weeks ago while driving to the Fringe Festival. I don’t know what they were, but I suspect, based on the fact that they’re across the street from a water treatment plant, that they are part of an older, abandoned water treatment plant—one that was used before the city upgraded. The ruins are a series of crumbling, vine-covered towers and doorways that lead underground. I have a real explorer streak when it comes to shit like this, so I was itching to investigate the ruins up close, but their perimeter was completely surrounded by a tall chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. Yeah, I can take a hint. So, I just poked my camera through the fence and took lots of pictures, some of which are now on Flickr.
This weekend also brought a delightfully unexpected surprise: I received a phone call from my old friend Laura, who I haven’t spoken to since early 1998! I was really excited to hear from her again. I filled her in various friends’ lives and we reminisced about all the wonderfully ridiculous experiences we once shared. As I will be in Lancaster during Labor Day weekend, visiting David and Angela, who will be in town for a wedding, I decided to visit Laura as well. She knew David and Angela during the year they studied in Germany, so she’ll probably join all of us for dinner.
Tonight I will swing by Ritz to pick up the humongous order I placed on Friday. My order is honestly going to cost over $200—a fact which sickens and horrifies me. See, this is what you get when you’re too lazy to develop your digital photos on a regular basis. I haven’t developed any photos since last November...and on top of that, I need to re-develop like 80% of the zillion photos I took in Europe last year (since their original developer, Ofoto, did a shitty job), as well as a few rolls of my Lomo film. Why go to Ritz, then, instead of a cheaper venue? Well, because I know Ritz will do a great job with the digital shots (unlike Ofoto, who I no longer trust), and they won’t (*knock on wood*) mess up my Lomo photos (unlike Wal-Mart, who destroyed several rolls of them a few months ago). I’m just too exhausted to deal with taking all these photos somewhere else and risking subpar quality. And that’s one of the reasons why I’m working 900 hours a week: so I can afford to splurge on top-of-the-line photo development.
But still...$200+? Again: oy.
song heard most recently before posting: Jamaica Inn—Tori Amos
I ended up taking bereavement leave yesterday to go to my great-aunt Mag’s funeral. But here’s the thing: we missed the freaking funeral. Initially my sister and I were making great time, and we even stopped at a Giant en route to Lebanon to pick up flowers for Mag’s coffin. But on the Turnpike, halfway between Harrisburg and Lebanon, we saw a sign saying that there was an accident ahead and we had to prepare to stop. We ground to a halt at 8:50am, and we initially thought we’d still have time to make it to the funeral, which was scheduled to begin at 10am.
However, the accident involved a gigantic truck that hit the concrete median and burst into flames. In other words, this was no tiny thing. Around 9:15, after being unable to find any sort of traffic report on the radio, Kristen called Mom and had her hop on the Turnpike’s website. It revealed that there was a truck fire and the Turnpike wasn’t expected to reopen until 11am. Oy. So Kristen called Dad and Jill’s cell phones and left messages for both of them, as well as calling her husband to give him the scoop, in case Dad didn’t check his cell phone and instead called Kristen’s house to see where we were.
The Turnpike reopened around 11:10am, meaning that we’d been sitting there, with the car idling to keep the a/c running, for two hours and twenty minutes. Meanwhile, poor Kristen desperately had to pee during our wait, so she finally had to resort to peeing in her McDonald’s orange juice cup. Desperate times call for desperate measures!
After the Turnpike reopened, we hit construction, which closed one lane of traffic for several miles, leaving us to shuffle along at 5 mph. When we passed the scene of the wreck, Kristen said that the smell was awful and it was one of those rare times when I was actually glad to be an anosmic. The road was charred and the truck was a vast, burnt-out shell, with burned debris scattered everywhere. I don’t know how anybody could have survived the crash, or if anybody did.
So we missed the funeral altogether, but we still got to catch up with a small contingent of relatives at my uncle’s house in Lebanon, where we arrived at noon. That was cool, especially since I haven’t seen my cousins in years. We just missed seeing my cousin Suzanne’s 20-year-old son, Ian, which is unfortunate, because he recently did some Marine training in the highlands of Scotland, including Glen Coe, which was my favorite place during my ’03 trip; I would’ve loved to have discussed it with him! As it was, we spent a lot of time talking about how much we used to hate getting dragged to CCD and mass, and how brain tumors and other head disorders run rampant in our family. Hot.
We stayed for two hours and then Kristen and I stopped for lunch at Friendly’s (where, shocker!, I ate until I was borderline-sick). Afterwards we headed back to her place, which gave me a chance to spend some more time with Olivia before I hit the road.
This past weekend was my first weekend of not working in months. How refreshing! I slept, read, watched DVDs (more Six Feet Under episodes, and East/West, one of my all-time favorite movies), and dawdled as a lady of leisure. It was superb. I also made long-overdue updates to my website.
On Saturday evening, I went to these...uh...ruins...in DC that I spotted a few weeks ago while driving to the Fringe Festival. I don’t know what they were, but I suspect, based on the fact that they’re across the street from a water treatment plant, that they are part of an older, abandoned water treatment plant—one that was used before the city upgraded. The ruins are a series of crumbling, vine-covered towers and doorways that lead underground. I have a real explorer streak when it comes to shit like this, so I was itching to investigate the ruins up close, but their perimeter was completely surrounded by a tall chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. Yeah, I can take a hint. So, I just poked my camera through the fence and took lots of pictures, some of which are now on Flickr.
This weekend also brought a delightfully unexpected surprise: I received a phone call from my old friend Laura, who I haven’t spoken to since early 1998! I was really excited to hear from her again. I filled her in various friends’ lives and we reminisced about all the wonderfully ridiculous experiences we once shared. As I will be in Lancaster during Labor Day weekend, visiting David and Angela, who will be in town for a wedding, I decided to visit Laura as well. She knew David and Angela during the year they studied in Germany, so she’ll probably join all of us for dinner.
Tonight I will swing by Ritz to pick up the humongous order I placed on Friday. My order is honestly going to cost over $200—a fact which sickens and horrifies me. See, this is what you get when you’re too lazy to develop your digital photos on a regular basis. I haven’t developed any photos since last November...and on top of that, I need to re-develop like 80% of the zillion photos I took in Europe last year (since their original developer, Ofoto, did a shitty job), as well as a few rolls of my Lomo film. Why go to Ritz, then, instead of a cheaper venue? Well, because I know Ritz will do a great job with the digital shots (unlike Ofoto, who I no longer trust), and they won’t (*knock on wood*) mess up my Lomo photos (unlike Wal-Mart, who destroyed several rolls of them a few months ago). I’m just too exhausted to deal with taking all these photos somewhere else and risking subpar quality. And that’s one of the reasons why I’m working 900 hours a week: so I can afford to splurge on top-of-the-line photo development.
But still...$200+? Again: oy.
song heard most recently before posting: Jamaica Inn—Tori Amos
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Rest in Peace, Mag
Magdalene Rose Reilly June 7, 1923 - August 2, 2006
For what is it to die,
But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?
–Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. –Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. –Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
Death may be the greatest of all human blessings. –Socrates
It’s the thought of death that is horrifying; the phenomenon itself always comes as naturally as a sunset. –Peter Høeg, Smilla’s Sense of Snow
If someone is tired and has gone to lie down, we do not pursue him with shouting and bawling. She whom I have lost has lain down to sleep for a while in the Great Inner Room. To break in upon her rest with the noise of lamentation would but show that I knew nothing of nature’s Sovereign Law. That is why I ceased to mourn. –Chuang Tzu
Death is not an evil, for it liberates from all evils… –Giacomo Leopardi, Operette morali
song heard most recently before posting: Family Snapshot—Peter Gabriel
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
August and everything after
Here’s a shocker: I don’t think I’ll have to work this weekend. Unfathomable! Even on weekends when I’m away from home, I still have work that I should be doing. But the last time there was a weekend when I literally had no work to do? I can’t even remember. I think it was in February or March. My knees are knocking together with excitement, yo!
Yesterday was a pagan holiday of sorts: Lughnasadh, the autumn quarter that runs from August 1st to October 31st. Sayeth my Celtic Devotional:
On a considerably shallower note, yesterday was also MTV’s 25th anniversary. Oh, remember those glory days when MTV actually played videos? When they were known for music? It was such an integral part of my ’80s experience, even though my family didn’t get cable until 1987. My grandparents had cable, and my sister and I always watched MTV when we visited them. I remember the delicious thrill of World Premiere videos, and how great it felt when one of my favorite videos aired. I remember when the Raspberry Beret video premiered; for some reason, MTV played it every hour on the hour. Maybe because it was considered a breakthrough video? My cousins were in town and we were at our grandparents’ house; one of us would turn on MTV at the start of every hour and scream, “It’s on!” so none of us would miss it. We watched that damn video every. single. hour. When my family finally possessed both a VCR and MTV, I would tape my favorite videos and re-watch them over and over. Ah, what a shame those days are long over. Do they even make music videos anymore?
I can thank MTV for inadvertently turning me into an Anglophile. In junior high I heard rumblings about a nutty British show, The Young Ones, and because the buzz was so strong, I wanted to see it. But it only aired after my bedtime and it didn’t occur to me to tape it. Finally, on Memorial Day weekend, 1988, I was able to watch it. Oh my gawd, was I hooked. Instantly. Not only on The Young Ones, but Britain in general. I began devouring every episode of The Young Ones, Monty Python, and British Comic Strip Presents (all of which ran in a block on MTV), and began checking out books about Britain from the library. The rest is history.
song heard most recently before posting: Beautifully Undone—Lindy
Yesterday was a pagan holiday of sorts: Lughnasadh, the autumn quarter that runs from August 1st to October 31st. Sayeth my Celtic Devotional:
“The autumn quarter of Lughnasadh brings the gift of maturity and is a time of physical harvest and spiritual garnering. It sees the greatest change in weather from broiling heat to dark and chilly nights. It is the time for celebrating the harvest and sees the busy preparations for winter. … It is a good time to celebrate the lives of all who have helped stabilize and uphold the noble values of life, of all who have exercised good judgment and steered the doubtful into the harbor of certainty, of all holy ones whose guardianship has saved us from life-disabling mistakes.”The Devotional also includes this little poem:
The Song of LughnasadhWell, even though August is a wretched month, weather-wise, I’m not sad to see July go, since the fruits of its labor included a terrorist attack in India, a tsunami in Indonesia, and, of course, the current nightmare in Lebanon and Israel.
I am the sovereign splendor of creation,
I am the fountain in the courts of bliss,
I am the bright surrender of the willpower,
I am the watchful guardian and the kiss.
I am the many-colored landscape,
I am the transmigration of the geese,
I am the burnished glory of the breastplate,
I am the harbor where all strivings cease.
On a considerably shallower note, yesterday was also MTV’s 25th anniversary. Oh, remember those glory days when MTV actually played videos? When they were known for music? It was such an integral part of my ’80s experience, even though my family didn’t get cable until 1987. My grandparents had cable, and my sister and I always watched MTV when we visited them. I remember the delicious thrill of World Premiere videos, and how great it felt when one of my favorite videos aired. I remember when the Raspberry Beret video premiered; for some reason, MTV played it every hour on the hour. Maybe because it was considered a breakthrough video? My cousins were in town and we were at our grandparents’ house; one of us would turn on MTV at the start of every hour and scream, “It’s on!” so none of us would miss it. We watched that damn video every. single. hour. When my family finally possessed both a VCR and MTV, I would tape my favorite videos and re-watch them over and over. Ah, what a shame those days are long over. Do they even make music videos anymore?
I can thank MTV for inadvertently turning me into an Anglophile. In junior high I heard rumblings about a nutty British show, The Young Ones, and because the buzz was so strong, I wanted to see it. But it only aired after my bedtime and it didn’t occur to me to tape it. Finally, on Memorial Day weekend, 1988, I was able to watch it. Oh my gawd, was I hooked. Instantly. Not only on The Young Ones, but Britain in general. I began devouring every episode of The Young Ones, Monty Python, and British Comic Strip Presents (all of which ran in a block on MTV), and began checking out books about Britain from the library. The rest is history.
song heard most recently before posting: Beautifully Undone—Lindy
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