I wore an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time

My sister-in-law’s Youtube video went (sort of) viral thanks to a tweet from Demi Moore. I was telling this story at lunch to a bunch of teenagers and they wanted to know who Demi was. We racked our brains trying to remember exactly WHY she is famous. Ghost, I suppose. But her other movies weren’t exactly huge hits. She did pose pregnant and naked on a magazine cover, and she was married to Bruce Willis, so I guess there’s that. (And then they wanted to know why Ashton Kutcher would marry her if she’s so old. They definitely knew who HE was.)

Anyway, it was weird to have to answer the question. Kids today know nothing.

Speaking of kids today, the Facebook groups they create are kind of hilarious. You can become a fan of “Everyone’s house has a smell, but I can’t smell mine” and “Sending an important text, then being scared to open the reply you get back.” I remember when that was called “email” but the same idea applies. I really hate that feeling. I try not to send important texts or emails if I can help it. Oh, and this one: “You won't talk to me, I won't talk to you, so why am I happy you're online?” which is also funny ‘cause it’s true.

So 2009 is almost over. All in all, definitely a better year that 2008. The “aughts” as a whole are almost over, too. I don’t know what this decade will be remembered for. Probably social networking and Barack Obama. Internet 2.0. Oh, and 9/11. What kind of crazy stuff is going to go down in the 10s? And when I can I start saying I graduated college in aught-one? Because that is deliciously old-timey.

Yoga wedding birthdays

I take yoga a few times a week, and I like it, even though one of my teachers bugs me just a little bit. She reads “inspirational” quotes that are cheesy and a bit clichéd and her voice has weird inflections, like she doesn’t quite understand what she’s saying.

Anyway, if you’ve ever done yoga you know that there is usually eastern-ish new age music playing in the background as you breathe and move through your poses. But last night my teacher threw on the old school stuff – and I really do mean old school. We were doing our poses to Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring and Pachebel’s Canon in D, which do nothing but make me feel that I’m at a wedding, watching bridesmaids come slowly down the aisle. (And a very specific wedding – it’s outdoors, and there’s a string quartet or harp playing – a movie kind of wedding.) Even if you don’t recognize the names of these songs, if you listen to them, I can pretty much guarantee you’ll think “wedding!”*

So I wonder what Bach or Pachebel would thing if they saw us doing these ancient Eastern poses to their very Western Civ. type music. I kind of like the juxtaposition, but somehow it doesn’t feel quite right.

----

And even though summer is only officially over as of 9/21, things have definitely changed around here. There’s always something that happens at the end of August that makes everything feel different. 8 PM suddenly feels like the middle of the night instead of the end of the evening. You can almost feel things roll over.

----

This is probably my last post until my birthday! The last post while I’m 30. It’s been a good year, a relaxing year in a lot of ways. I’ve stopped thinking about how old I am, and about expectations. There are no expectations for 30-somethings, really. Everyone just figures out their own life as they go along.

Last year the economy collapsed right before my birthday—the week OF my birthday, as a matter of fact. This year things are much quieter - and that's good. Worldwide economic destruction is NOT the kind of birthday excitement I'm looking for. This year I'm going to a wedding on my birthday, which is much more palatable: drinks and dancing, whoo-hoo!

----

*And even though they’re so overused, I can’t help but love them anyway. I think I’d use them in my own wedding—they're just really beautiful pieces of music. My musicians would probably want to kill themselves though. Canon in D? Seriously. Talk about hacky clichés.

Where were you

So tomorrow is September 11.

I don’t think I’ve ever done a “where were you when?” kind of post, so here’s mine.

It was an amazing September day – perfect blue sky, sunshine, low humidity. I had just started (a week previously) a job – my first professional post-college job – as a secretary at a high school in town. I was in charge of attendance, and we had those ScanTron pencil-bubble sheets that the teachers marked.

I had carried the ScanTron sheets back to the scanner (it was temperamental) and was working on that when one of the women in the office came around to tell us that a plane had hit the world trade center. We all exclaimed and commented and thought it was weird. I finished my scanning and went back to my desk.

I don’t actually remember the order of events after that. I do know that we found out pretty quickly that a second building had been hit, and then we knew it wasn’t just an accident. The kids were doing a special reading test all morning and were locked in their classrooms, so there was no great outpouring from the student body – but as they finished their testing word started to spread and the teachers turned on their classroom TVs.

I was still very new at my job and learning the ropes, plus I wasn’t sure how much time I should spend not working, so I sat obediently at my desk and put info into the computer. The administrators in the office had the TV on, and at one point one of them came out and asked if I’d seen any news and told me I should come watch. And I did for awhile.

The thing I remember most is the feeling, though. Because we didn’t really know what was going on . . . for awhile it seemed that every half-hour another target had been hit. Planes were missing. The president was somewhere. Dick Cheney was hiding. We had no idea when it would end and a kind of panicked nervousness overhung all my work that day.

By 11 AM or so, some panicky parents were coming to get their kids. By 12:45, we’d let the kids out early. I think I stayed for the rest of the afternoon, but I’m not sure what I was working on.

You’d think the days after the event would stick out to me, too, but really everyone just went about their daily lives (except for those in NYC, of course). We all went back to work and school and did everything we’d done before. I guess there was news. The internet was still pretty new and relatively small at that point, so no one spent tons of time on it. The other week when Mike was down here we were imagining 9/11 Facebooking and Twittering, and how absolutely insane that would’ve been.

And it’s strange to think about the fact that my life hasn’t changed that much in 8 years, other than my job and the fact I now couldn’t be torn off the internet if something happened. But there are kids who were fourteen then who are 22 now, and they are very different. 9/11 happened in their childhood, before they grew up. Their lives now are completely different. The kids who were doing that reading test are now working, married adults – I think I work in the same building as at least one of them.

So that’s my 9/11 story. I was about to turn 23. My life situation may not have changed much, but I think I have – even much more than I realize.

Come and Gone

I should be sleeping, because even though I'm not going to work tomorrow, I still need to go to the airport early for my trip to Canada! Vancouver! To see the kids. And by the kids I mean my brother and sis-in-law. I'm excited.

But before I go to sleep, I feel like I should update briefly about the "Letter to Myself at 30" that I wrote from my 20-year-old self.

Let's just say it wasn't as bad as I thought. I thought it was going to be full of wishes I'd made at 20 that I'd hoped would be true at 30, and aren't. But no. I basically just had a lot of questions.

Here's an excerpt:
"What kind of music, clothes, etc. are in now? Right now the music is kind of pop alternative and people like to wear work shirts w/other people's names (just one trend of many). 70s styles are in. Any new words? [Um. Yes. Google. Facebook. iPod. What else? There must be tons.] What was the year 2000 like? [Mostly disappointing.] Right now that seems spooky. And you get to P.E.I.? [I like this question, because YES! I did. With the cousins, just like we'd planned.]

I had questions about my brother . . . I forgot how much I didn't like him when he was 17 and I was 20. Looking back now, I think we were just really, really different and I didn't understand anything that was going on his life, nor was I particularly open to hearing about it. And I think he was kind of obnoxious. But we are both different, and we've moved closer together, and I think it's good.

Another excerpt:
"I feel like I should say something edifying--a revelation about this time, so at 30 you can look back and learn from this. But what? Well, what have I learned since I was 10? Depression is temporary. Friends are important, I am a loyal person, etc. What have you learned between 20 and 30. Hopefully something."

Yeah, hopefully. Geez, 20 year old me didn't have a lot of faith. I've learned more in the last decade than in any previous, so that's good. What have I learned? It can pretty much be summed up with "nothing's as big of a deal as you think it is."

And finally:
"All I have is questions. I feel as though I'm writing to a different person, and in a way I am. Thirty is different than 20. But how am I the same? What has carried over from 10 to 20 to 30. Anything? Maybe by 30 you will know."

Do I know? I know MORE. But maybe that's the whole point of this aging thing. Maybe uncovering "me" is an ongoing process that's never going to be finished. It's all in the journey and that sort of thing.

And if you look at "growing up" as slowly uncovering your soul--whatever it is that makes YOU, you--then it's kind of interesting adventure.

And now it's time for me to quit muddling around in philosophical musings and go to bed.

Ahhh . . . Freak Out!

What is going on in the world? Seriously. Banks collapsing, the election going into the toilet, me not writing in my blog.

I recommend the Wikipedia article on the Great Depression. Very interesting stuff. I'm in the middle of reading it right now, because I can't focus on one thing at a time. My mind is easily distracted.

I talked briefly with my brother on Monday night, about turning 30 and my mild freakouts, which I like to play up for dramatic effect. He joked about talking me out of it--"it's just a number"--but really I don’t have much to be talked out of. When I'm good, I'm good. When I'm not feeling happy, turning 30 is just one more thing. This sucks and this sucks and this sucks AND I'm turning 30. Wahhh!

Christmas Eve is 14 weeks from today, if you were wondering. A woman at my 2nd job occasionally updates on us on where we are in relation to Xmas.

I don't know what else is happening. I had to change seats at work, a change that left me bereft and with no one to talk to. Our dept. (my old dept., now) has a reputation of being the chatty ones, not the hardest workers, and I used to think that reputation unfounded. Now that I moved though, I see everyone else just plugging away on their computers, rarely stopping to exchange more than a few words of chat, and I guess maybe it wasn't entirely unjustified. Still, I never felt as though the chat negatively affected my work. Writing doesn't work like that.

If we lived in the time of Mad Men we'd not only be chatting, but drinking, too!

Facebook is weirding me out these days. High school people, who I haven't actually thought about since about 1996, keep showing up and friending me, and then I've got all my current work friends, my relatives, and they're all there together in the People You May Know sidebar. Worlds are colliding! Soon my entire friend/acquaintance base will be on Facebook!

Except my dad. I can't quite imagine that. (if he ever reads this, he'll join just to prove me wrong)

It's 9:45, I’m at job #2, still waiting for the work to pick up. Sometimes I sit here more than I actually DO anything. If the Depression happens all over again, I'm toast.

Super Tuesday

Hi-dilly Ho, Neglecterinos!
I've been sadly neglecting my blog lately. Mostly I've been neglecting everything (minus work) and coming home to hole up and watch HBO series on DVD. Six Feet Under and The Wire. My co-worker called me the "Michael Phelps of HBO DVD watching" so I guess that's something.

So I'm done with The Wire forever. Boo. Season 5 was good, but I really think The Wire peaked at Season 4. Season 4 broke your heart; Season 5 is the cynical burst of laughter that comes after your heart has been broken and you can't care anymore. Or something. Although if Dukie doesn't break your heart again, you have no heart. Just a cold black hole.

Buy Fresh, Buy Local--Thwarted!
I have been bitching regularly about the fact that local produce in our grocery stores actually costs MORE than the stuff from out of town. Wha?! So today after work I drove to CVS to get cash (because who ever has cash) and then stopped at 2 (TWO!) road side stands to buy corn, tomatoes, cantelope, and watermelon. I only had the $20, but I expected to be able to make change . . . isn't that the whole point of the honor system?! Leave that cash out where I can get it.

But no! No change! Nada! And so despite the extra trip to CVS and pulling off the road twice to check out the stands, I was foiled by society. So I stopped at Weis and bought two local peaches (unripe!) and a baguette. The baguette is what I had for dinner. I thought I had cheese here, but that was not the case.

My Next 30 Years
Oh, and today I realized that my birthday is exactly one month away. I remember feeling panicked on my 20th birthday, which is funny looking back now. The 20s have been the best decade so far . . . and I've definitely learned the most about life. So maybe the 30s will be even better that way.

But I'm still going to be panicking. Also reading the letter I wrote to my 30-year-old self from my 20-year-old self. So that should be interesting.

Post Getaway

Whoa! How is it July already? And are there any songs with July in the lyrics? I guess Yankee Doodle Dandy. And that Chicago song about Saturday in the park.

Speaking of Chicago, I got back from that town on Sunday with no problems. Travel certainly went better than I expected, but I suppose that’s the beauty of non-stop flights. No connections to screw you up. But the most interesting thing about the trip was getting a ride back from the pre-wedding barbeque with a guy who’s a post-doctoral fellow in early brain development with a specialty in autism. Joy and I were hanging on his every word in the car, and then we made him go to the hotel bar with us and tell us more.

Traditional pickup lines? No good. Start talking smart about brain development and we’ll follow you anywhere.

P.S. Soon I'll put photos on my Facebook--so watch for that!

Getting Warmer

It’s officially summer when the office temperature drops to ungodly cold levels. Today we had a meeting in one of the conference rooms and my teeth were literally chattering. It doesn’t help that summer means less clothing. I really should’ve learned my lesson the past two summers I’ve worked here and started dressing in lots of layers.

But nope, still wearing short-sleeves, a skirt, and sandals.

My official work anniversary isn’t until Friday, but two years ago I started here on the day after Memorial Day, so it was very much like today (plus I was wearing the same skirt and sandals!). My department contains four people who were here when I started and everyone else is newer (and younger) than me. Three people who were here when I started are gone, and there have been several others who both came and left in the time that I’ve been here.

So I suppose this is a time for self-reflection, thinking about my job and what my goals are and all that. I’m actually still not sure, although I have a clearer picture of what I want to do and how. And, wonder of wonders, I’m getting actual experience in a career that I might want, instead of a bunch of random office skills that I have to find a way to bullshit into a resume.

I’ve never been one for narrowing my options. Even now, at this job, I find myself fighting against being pigeon-holed. I don’t just want to write print, I want to write online. And marketing. Emails and brochures and ads and corporate materials and banners and direct response and whatever the opposite of that is. I can and will do it all! (It helps that I’m the only copywriter, or this stuff would’ve been divvied out a long time ago). But it’s mostly because I’m trying to keep my options open. To learn and do as much as I can, so that I’m qualified for everything (and specialized in nothing). I’ve already given up on sociology and urban planning and historic preservation and wedding planning and all the other career ideas I once entertained. Let me keep my options open at least here, in this little niche, for as long as possible.

(Plus the more I do on my own, the more valuable I am as an employee. Ha!)

And now I think it's time for some hot chocolate.

Time will Tell

--It cost me $50.00 to fill my tank this morning. First time ever. And I drive a MINI.

And yet somehow I think I’m going to look back on $50 as “the good old days.”

--Today I dug my wool winter coat out of my car and wore it as I walked over to the grocery store for lunch. It’s cold!

But I think I will be wishing for cooler weather soon enough.

--I realized that it’s May 19, and so I turn 30 in exactly 4 months.

Crisis? Opportunity? Crisitunity? Right now I feel blah about the whole thing.

In Between

Happy New Year! I celebrated January 1 by putting my flannel sheets on my bed and taking a cold walk around the neighborhood and seeing an awesome flaming sunset. Later, I will probably do some laundry and also take out the trash. 2008 has been packed with excitement so far.

Anyway, I suppose I should do some kind of 2007 Year in Review, but this year has been fairly unremarkable, at least as far as I can tell. (There's always the chance that in hindsight these years could be incredibly important, but I'll let you know if that happens). In the Sad Things of 2007 column, two of my best friends moved away this year, and I miss them. Under the Good Things header, I came more into my own at work, and feel like I have much more to offer than I did last year at this time. The joy of a job that you actually like can't really be overstated. It's crucial.

I kept all three of my 2007 resolutions: figure out retirement funds, go to the dentist twice, buy a MINI, and that makes me hesitant to make any 2008 resolutions, unless they can be as easily and definitively measured. I should go to the doctor, so I'll make that a resolution. And my budget really needs some help (quote of 2007: "My finances are shit. I really need to get married.") So, my other resolution will be to start saving for an emergency fund, and also tithe regularly. (Yikes. Now I have to actually do it).

Okay, back to Honduras. Going through day-by-day is exhausting me, so I will probably skip over some stuff. The highlights of Saturday, December 22, were our trip to a botanical gardens and a spontaneous trip to a professional soccer game in the evening. We heard a rumor that it was the Honduran Cup, but that was never confirmed. Now, why I am I still using words? Here are pictures!

Giant Bamboo!
(Mark is standing in front for scale).


The Melaleuca Tree


The Mangosteen Tree!


A REAL LIVE Mangosteen!


Cannonball Tree. The balls are ornamental.


Cool Red-and-Green Palm trees


Jen is frightened by the deadly Strychnine Tree . . .
Don't touch or YOU WILL DIE!


Cool pink flower . . .


. . . that drops its petals everywhere.


Sitting in the river at the Botanical Gardens . . .
this felt like being in PA.


Two lanes quickly turns into eight unorganized lanes on the way to the soccer game.


The stadium at night


Inside the game


What it was like after a goal . . . can you spot the shower of beer?


Look what we found in an Honduran grocery store!
From Leola, PA . . . and we know these Hesses

People Get Ready

The new season of The Office starts tonight!

My old car registration expires on Sunday, so I will be on the road with the MINI!

Scavenger Hunt at work tomorrow!

October is almost here!

Sunday, Rainy Sunday

In the last few days, I've been thinking about 10 years ago. Because I was living in the woods, climbing rocks and mountains, and going days without a shower--all in preparation to begin my freshman year of college.

My college had a outdoor program for freshmen. For about a week, we camped, hiked, did a ropes course, and climbed and rappelled down a rock face. This was meant to do something--I'm not sure what exactly--but I went on it because I wanted to meet people before school started, and being a not-particularly-out going person, I figured I needed all the help I could get. So I subjected myself to things I normally would avoid, all in the name of meeting people. I really got to know the group of eight people I was matched with, and I proved to myself that I could climb up a steep incline and spend the night alone in the woods, and live without knowing the time for seven or eight days. And I started college and found a bunch of other friends, unrelated to my group, and had a good time.

I suppose I've been thinking about it because Joy is moving from Lancaster next weekend and is off to the Philly suburbs for at least two years. She and I were paired together as roommates freshman year, which was a lucky break, and we have essentially lived in the same town for the past ten years. Things have changed a lot since we first met, and even since graduation, and I will miss her, but I told her last night that I don't have the energy to get all sentimental about this, especially since she'll only be about an hour away, and she agreed. So we're not getting sentimental. But if there's anyone who's more a part of my 20s, I don't know who it is. I feel like we've grown up together.

And it's a cool, rainy Sunday, which is very nice, and I've spent the afternoon sleeping, which is nice and not-so-nice, as it means I'll be awake all night. But what else can you do on a rainy Sunday afternoon?

Accomplished

Today I completed two tasks that have been hanging over my head and have a direct bearing on future plans (if I didn't do them, the plans would come to naught).

I got my passport photos taken.
I'm planning a trip to Saskatchewan in September, and there are new rules that say You Must Have a Passport. My passport expires in August, which is crazy. Back when it was issued to me, in 1997, right before I went to college, I couldn't imagine 2007--and yet, here we are. (The poor woman taking my photos had to take about ten before we got one with my eyes open. The anticipation of the flash makes me blink every time. But we finally turned the flash off and got a decent picture). I'm ten years older than in my last pic, but I'm also about twenty pounds lighter and I've got a better haircut, so there you go.

I reserved my copy of the newest Harry Potter.
My plans for Saturday include holing up in my house, subsisting on cereal, and reading Harry Potter. That's all. But in order to be able to wake up on Sat. and start reading, I needed to make sure I could pick up my book at midnight, and for that I needed to reserve a copy. So I'm not reading any articles about spoilers or possible spoilers, and I hope I'll be happily innocent when I start and finish the book--all of which should take place on Saturday. I won't remember anything except the big stuff (is Snape evil? Does Harry die?) because I'll be reading too fast, but I'll be finished.

Coming Around Again

It isn’t official until tomorrow, but the Tuesday after Memorial Day last year was the day I started my copywriting job.

For awhile this past year seemed to be flying by, but so much has changed that it really does feel like a year since last May 30 (and when do I ever say that?!). So many people have left my department since then—lots have left since our Christmas party. We’ve started graying people out of the Christmas party picture (people who’ve left), like America’s Next Top Model. Four are gone. (I wonder who’ll be the last?)

And I’m not sure what it means that I spend my day writing a lot of stuff I don’t believe in and yet I really like my job. Should I want to be improving people's lives or the world with my writing? Once I would’ve thought so. Am I just a sellout? Probably. Do I care? Not really. The thing about making these compromises: you can’t really sit in judgment of anyone else’s job choice. And I definitely used to do that, so at least this job is making me less of a prig.

Plus I've learned how to write a headline, to deal with a crazy boss, and I'm starting to have an opinion about good and bad copywriting. I've dealt with plenty of workplace drama; I've cried in my manager's office and survived.

All in all, I don't think that's too bad for 364 days. Here's to 364 more.

So much time to make up

All day long I have had Wasted on the Way stuck in my head--this song by Crosby, Stills, & Nash.

When I was a kid, my mom played CSN and listened to their greatest hits a lot, and as a result I associate those songs with cleaning the house on Saturday morning and the smell of lemon Pledge. So I don't really feel all that fond of them. But Wasted on the Way is a new one for me, just like Southern Cross was a new one a few years ago, and I love them both.

Anyway, two years ago around this time I was having a lovely and exciting conversation with someone that later resulted in a not-so-happy ending. I blame myself for most of this--my own naivete and ridiculousness--but I was pretty depressed for awhile. That summer was not a good time--I was the most miserable I'd been in a very long time.

Which is so annoying to think about now. Why? Why did I waste all that time? I couldn't HELP it . . . had I been able to change my feelings I would've, but I cried and blogged almost every day (THAT blog has been long since deleted) and just generally spent most of my time moping.

That seems like so long ago. Two years, but really I can't imagine it anymore. I can't reconnect with those feelings, or even understand where they came from or what I was thinking. I only know that it sucked, and I'm really glad I'm not there anymore and probably never will be again. That particular heartbreak isn't the kind that can be repeated. (New kinds will always be popping up, though! Cheerful thought.)

I suppose that I shouldn't think of that time as wasted. I learned things and moved on and things are better now. I don't really regret it. But I can't help thinking that I could've been doing something better. Where were my friends? Why was I just lying around the house being miserable?

Oh, well. It's all just water underneath the bridge at this point. Which is what Wasted on the Way talks about . . . and now I've come back to the reason I brought that song up in the first place. You should go find it. It's good.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

I really should not take long naps after work.

In my defense, I didn't mean to. Just a short one, then a long walk, then an evening at Borders catching up on what's new. But I climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep . . . from 5:30 to 8:00.

Bad news.

Because long naps like this make me disoriented, and pensive, and slightly melancholy. Even though I planned to spend the evening alone all along, suddenly I was feeling sorry for myself because I didn't have any Friday night plans. And then I wandered around Borders and thought about how I'm not as good as I would like to be. At so many things. I was reading Anne Lamott, and she's great, and her writing is all about how it's okay if you're not good enough, because you're loved and chosen anyway, and I then I felt sad because I'm not as good as accepting people and life as she is, as good as I want to be. Which is sadly ironic, really.

And because I've suddenly become like an old woman, I find myself getting sentimental around today's youth. I was at a protest last week, and all the high school kids, with their passion and their signs, and their hope and ideals . . . well, it was just so cute.

So tonight I went and read this blog, linked from another blog. It belongs to a nine-year-old named Matthew, and it's so great. His mom sent him a meme; here's one of the questions along with his answer:

Three things I’d like to learn (but won’t)
I don’t understand how to answer this question.

Oh, nine. Of course you don't understand the question . . . why WOULDN'T you learn something, if you want to? You're just SO CUTE.

And now I'm going to knit some potholders and bitch about my pension.

Not my issue

Freakin' introspection. I can't stop thinking about my own issues lately, and then thinking I should blog about them. Unnecessary, really.

So, here's something introspective from someone else, that sums up my feelings nicely. This is excerpted from City Wendy in the Windy City, and you can read the whole post here. I'm not 30 yet, but this mostly captures how I feel about getting old(er).

"It happened really quickly, that's what I'm saying. And I never really gave life permission to do this, to just keep happening around me while I tried to figure shit out. All I know is my 20's went by and I tried some different relationships, and toyed with different careers, and never really thought too much about the future and then all of a sudden, it's like I woke up and ten years had passed and suddenly it wasn't so easy to stay thin anymore and it seemed like maybe I ought to start thinking about having a baby in the next 5 years or something because pretty soon by eggs are gonna dry up and I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME. I thought I was going to be special!

Maybe aging is the great humanizer. Maybe it's what brings us closer together: the collective realization that we're moving further and further away from our youthful dreams, and well, this? This is what life is. It's waking up at 5:30 to go to a job you like just 'ok,' and it's Lean Cuisines for lunch and stealing a few minutes here and there in your afternoon to email friends and check blogs and play Sudoku. And it's paying for a chocolate brownie with three miles on the treadmill, and it's new years resolutions to eat less and save more and learn to balance your checkbook. It's looking up old boyfriends on Myspace and finding college roommates and posting pictures that make you look hotter than you feel most days of the week, and it's looking in the mirror and seeing someone older than you remember before, and it's so, so much ordinary.

Last night I went out to dinner with some friends and there was a 20 minute wait at the sushi place, so we went across the street and I showed them Cafe Bong for the first time and we had a couple beers and sang some songs and somehow ended up at an Ethiopian diner by the end of the night where we polished a couple bottles of wine and made birthday wishes to the one turning 34. And later on, when I pulled up to my apartment in a cab and I paid the driver my fare and I walked up my stairs and unlocked my door and turned on the lights and took off my boots and my scarf and my gloves and my coat and I drank some water and brushed my teeth and washed my face and took out my contacts, there was a moment--when I got into bed and I closed me eyes, there was a moment when I thought "Is this it?"

All I'm saying is Saturday nights use to hold the promise of so much more than Sunday mornings, that's all."

What a difference two months makes . . .

A photographic illustration of the earth's rotation around the sun:

Intersection at 5:05 PM, December 28, 2006














Intersection at 5:05 PM, February 28, 2007

The Class of '97

Growing up, my dad liked to listen to a song called The Class of ’57. The whole song is a list of people who graduated in a particular class in 1957, and what they’re doing now. It’s a poignant song, because it’s a song about the almost inevitable choices and compromises that people in make in life, when their ideals sort of die for lack of inspiration, and when real life sets in.

Anyway, there’s a line in it: “things get complicated/when you get past 18.” Which my dad always sings whenever we have a discussion about post-high school decisions and problems.

But I’m not sure that things get complicated when you’re 19 as much as they get complicated when you get past twenty-two. Maybe back in ’57 life was complicated for 18 year olds, but now I think we’re still stuck in adolescence for a few more years. So I’ve been changing the lyrics to “things get complicated/when you get past twenty-two” (even though it screws with the rhythm), because I feel like that’s seemed particularly true lately. I’ve been hearing about depression and divorce and unplanned babies . . . serious things, sad things. And it all seems very complicated.

My ten-year-reunion will be this year, although I doubt anyone will plan it. I had a very small high school class, and while I don’t particularly want to make small talk with a bunch of people I haven’t seen in ten years, I’m seriously curious to know what happened to these people. How have they changed? Grown up? What kinds of complications have shaped them, and will I like some of them better as 27-year-olds than I did when we were all 17 or 18?

I may take over the planning just to alleviate my curiosity. And then I could write my own version of that song.

Randomness IV

1. The fact that it’s 2007 continues to boggle me. I wrote ’07 today and just blinked at it for a minute. ’07? Really? I’m always this way about the sevens, though. It just seems so much later/older than 6. Seventeen is way older than 16. 27 is way older than 26. And 2007 is much later than 2006.

2. This stupid head cold continues to hang on. It’s been like two weeks. Today I was singing that song A Heart Full of Love from Les Mis, only I changed the lyrics to “A Head full of Mucus” which doesn’t really have the same effect (or rhythm). And is much more disgusting. But good grief, this is stupid.

3. Speaking of songs from Les Mis, I was looking up above lyrics for this post, and I started reading On My Own lyrics . . . a ridiculously sad song about unrequited love. As an example, here’s the last line:
I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own.
And then, on this particular site, under that, a note: “Thanks to feeling_horney@xxxxxxx.com for the corrections."

Frankly, I’m kind of surprised that anyone with this email address would a) use it to send song correction lyrics, and b) would care what the lyrics to On My Own really are.

4. Since the blog contest ended, my blog’s average daily visits have dropped off considerably. Sad.