Roller coasters and such

I am at the Charlotte airport with my parents waiting for our connecting flight to Jamaica.  This year for Christmas my parents are taking my brother and me on vacation, but both of us feel like complete assholes for doing the rich American tourist thing.  I will have to bite my tongue so many times this week when I see locals/hotel staff who obviously live in poverty and are not benefitting from the tourism industry.  I have so many thoughts on this type of travel, but my dad would be offended if I were to say anything.  So I won't.  Instead, to pass the time at the airport, I rode the roller coaster that I just discovered in Photo Booth.  Who knew this existed?! I don't think I understood the concept, so you can't even tell that my dad and I are on a roller coaster.  Instead we just look like crazy people at the airport.  (I really like the fact that my normally very self-conscious father listened when I told him to raise his hand and mimic screaming.  This is what the holidays are all about.)

The R Line

I have been in New York City for the past couple days, but sans internet access, which seems a horrible injustice.  However, I am stuck in Milwaukee for a brief layover and I discovered that Google has graciously provided free internet service to this airport for the holidays! Awesome.

I had to look up directions to any potential destination within New York before I left because I was anticipating a lack on internet at my brother's apartment.  Anyway, this led to me getting lost several times and an interesting experience both getting to and on the R line yesterday.  It can be broken down into two parts:

Getting to the R Line:
I kept walking and walking and it became apparent that I was headed in the wrong direction.  I stopped a man on the street to ask if I could get to the R line station by walking further down the street.  He made the international gesture for "I DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH!"  This happened again with the next person I approached.  Then I asked a woman, "Do you know how I can get to the R line?"  She responded, "Arlington, Virginia! Why, that's in a completely different state! Ha!"  This really threw me for a loop since I tend to over-pronounce all of my words and am not used to such misunderstandings.  Her confusion continued for a while until I said, "Subway? The subway stop?"  She gave me directions walking through the projects in Queens.  I was wearing high heels and a suit.  Okay.

On the R Line:
I finally found the R line station.  Unfortunately for me, I entered the station on the side that was going further into Queens rather than into Manhattan.  I realized that I could take it the wrong way and then transfer sides in a few stops, so that is what I did.  There was a distinctly bad smell when I entered the subway car, but that is not uncommon, so I didn't think much of it. (Other than trying to figure out if it was urine or popcorn).  I sat across from a middle aged couple who were kinda dirty, in all senses of the word.  The man stood up and handed a $10 bill to a passenger who looked sad.  Then he sat back down and the  woman started staring at me.  She said, "Do you smell that?!"  I told her that I did, but I was uncertain of what it was.  She quickly responded, "Oh, that's us.  My boyfriend and I just pissed on each other."  "Oh," I said.

Frisson

Do you remember that feeling of being at elementary school "after hours" for a performance or showcase of student artwork?  I always felt a rush being at school when it was dark outside, free to skip around the hallways without fear of reprimand.  After graduating fifth grade, I went many years without feeling this same feeling.  It is very hard to replicate.  As a college student, I now experience the same thrill the moment I finish a semester.  Today I turned in my final paper and then walked out of the hall, beaming and enjoying a sense of camaraderie with my asshole classmate who had also just finished his semester.  Nothing can go wrong at this time.  I worry that I will only have one more opportunity to revel in this state.  Are there opportunities for this specific feeling in the real world?  Will I be relegated to a dreary cubicle job where the highlight of my day is completing the New York Times crossword?  I hope not.

Growth Stunt

When people comment on how little I am, I generally make a joke about drinking too much coffee as a child.  Really though, I drank lots of coffee as a child.  I'm not sure why my parents allowed it.  It's possible that slightly under 5'2" is my full potential because I come from a small family, but my brother outgrew both of my parents.  I guess it's not so bad.  I'll just wear platform shoes to concerts and try to not look like I'm 15.  I think the worst thing about being so compact is that I can't eat as much as everyone else.  Sometimes I fantasize about being 5'10", if only so I can eat two cupcakes rather than one.

Lists

Today was the first meeting for this year's Vagina Monologues.  The downside of being on the cast is that there is a weekly meeting that lasts three hours, one hour of which is spent playing ice-breaker type games.  If you know me at all, you know this is exactly the kind of thing I hate.  But I still like the concept of Vagina Monologues, so I continue to do it.  Anyway, today I was provided ample opportunity to zone out and think of lists.  Here is one of the lists I thought of:

Breakfasts foods that are also verbs:
   roll, jam, egg (on), milk, waffle, butter, ham (it up)

Cultural Appropriation?

Is this rude? My main concern is keeping the wind from biting through my skin as I bike, but I guess it kinda looks like I'm trying to hijab it up.  Hmm, to be cold or to partake in cultural appropriation.  That, my friends, is the question.

Bluetooth or Sociopath?

I graduated from high school a semester early and worked full time at Starbucks before heading off to college.  Business people would come in, wearing nice suits and screaming about things to seemingly no one.  At this time I was somewhat unfamiliar with bluetooth headsets and assumed that Starbucks attracted a disproportionate number of sociopaths.  They would stand at the counter, look at me, and say, "Do you think we can complete this transaction by noon?"  I would shrug and say, "Probably."  Then the customer would look at me like I was crazy.  After learning about the duchey bluetooth I played a game called "Bluetooth or Sociopath?"  I didn't want to make blind assumptions, so I would rely on context.  Something to pass the time.  Anyway, I hate when people are assholes, so when it was apparent that the customer was completing a business transaction while it was their turn to order, I played my own version of their game.  I made direct eye contact and started talking to them about all of the new drinks we offered and alterations they could request for their favorite latte.  I would continue this until the customer said something like, "Sorry, Larry.  I'll have to call you back. The girl at the counter won't stop talking to me."  Sorry, dude, I thought you were here to order a coffee.  One time my manager told me not to do this to people. 

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving in New York was quite memorable.  I went out to eat with my mom, dad, brother, his girlfriend (AK) and her mom at a nice place in Greenwich Village.  Since it was Thanksgiving, most places were closed, but around this area there were upwards of 15 sex shops that were open and prominently displaying their strap-ons and neon lights.  Okay.  So after dinner we walked AK's mom back to the subway stop and went to look for a bar.  It became quickly apparent that the two men that followed us to the stop were also following us back and more men were joining them.  They started to get both in front of and behind us, so we crossed the street and tried to get to a more populated area.  They kept following, so we quickly ducked in to the nearest bar.  It was very obviously a gay bar and it had great ambiance.  My dad is homophobic, but extremely clueless, so I was excited he didn't realize that all the dudes were holding hands.  It wasn't until AK pointed out all of the cocks and erotic pictures that my dad became aware and freaked out.  He said we needed to leave right away.  Then we went to another bar where I ordered a "Dark and Stormy" cocktail that ended up just being a big glass of rum.  Oops.  So that was my Thanksgiving.

Manager's Reception

In a few days I will be heading to New York City to visit my brother for Thanksgiving. Since my parents are also going and NYC apartments are notoriously tiny, we will be staying in a hotel. Growing up, we always stayed at Embassy Suites when we travelled. I have fond memories of sitting in the hotel lounges, playing poker with m&ms, sipping on Shirley Temples and listening to jazz for hours at night. My mother recently informed me that there was only one reason we always stayed at Embassy Suites: Manager's Reception. Apparently Manager's Reception refers to the unlimited free "adult beverages" available in the lounge in the evenings. This sheds a whole new light on my childhood travels and slightly taints my memories. This coming week I will be staying at the Embassy Suites in Manhattan and will finally be able to take advantage of the free "adult beverages." In similar news, I will be spending Christmas with my family in Jamaica where my father has booked rooms that have four kinds of liquor on tap. On tap. In the hotel room. What?! My brother and I talked and have concluded that my parents are high functioning alcoholics.

In other family news, my mom mentioned that she was going to buy a Snuggie for our dog, and I told he she shouldn't do that; it's simply too ridiculous. She countered with, "No, she's so old. She deserves nice things."

Difficulties differentiating dichotomies.

As the title alliteration implies, I sometimes have trouble correctly identifying the things I am presented with. This seems like a stupid thing to say, but maybe my examples will help. Or maybe they will make you understand me even less than you already do. For each group below, I am unable to differentiate between the two items based on the sense.

Taste

Cigarette

Starbucks Italian Roast

Smell

Movie theater popcorn

Urine

Sight

A stranger with long hair

A friend with long hair

It's story time.

Fridays

After a hectic week, I am faced with the promise of nothing to do on Fridays after 10:00 a.m. After my class I alternately eat hippie food and junk food with a friend and then stand around thinking about what to do. I can either go home and pace while I think of something to do or I can do essentially the same thing over a much larger area and stay outdoors.

Four Years

This picture of me was taken exactly four years ago. It's weird to see old pictures of myself and think about all the different stages I've gone through. In high school I dyed my hair when I was restless. I'm feeling very restless now and I'm not sure I know of any coping mechanisms other than dying my hair. Maybe I'll see if the internet has any suggestions for me.

Monday, Monday, Monday

This is what my nights tend to look like. In other news, today I discovered that I only have wine, champagne, chocolate chips, and a tomato. I ate a tomato for lunch. Coming soon: segment about eating on a budget!

Aint Nothin Wrong With That!

Here is a short video story of me discussing my walk to class this afternoon. A little bit of background on the woman I mention: she was wearing hot-pink, shiny leggings.



Towards the end of this video a group of about six people gathered and started laughing and pointing which made me feel a little weird, but not too weird to stop talking to my computer in public.

Allowance

I was never good at being a child and I think that is most evident through the manner in which I spent my monthly allowance. I almost always took my money to Walgreens where I usually bought a new pair of (unneeded) reading glasses. One time I bought a cane. Another time I rented a pair of crutches (it was too expensive to actually buy them).

My favorite memory of my allowance expenditure was when I was in third grade and I really wanted to write to people in prison (I think I read some sort of news story about it), but my mom wouldn't let me list our home address (for obvious reasons). I decided to spend my allowance on a post office box so I could safely write to convicts. I wrote so many letters during the time that I had a PO box. I mostly told the men that I was a 40 year old author and would send them "advanced copies" of my short stories. Sometimes I got marriage proposals, sometimes I got sob stories, sometimes I got pictures of their children. I wonder if these letters are in a box at my parent's house...

America's Next Top Model

When I am overwhelmed with school work I always follow a sequence that goes like this:

1) several hours of intense, non-interrupted studying

2) realization that I will never be done no matter how hard I work

3) resort to reading blogs

4) write on my blog

5) resume studying

Anyway, there is a blog I follow, fourfour, where I read recaps of America's Next Top Model episodes. I don't watch the show in real life because I feel that I can capture the essence (and utter ridiculousness while wasting as little time as possible) through these posts. It is probably a combination of too much caffeine, too much stress, and too little sleep, but I actually laughed out loud at two bits and have decided to share them with you.

1) The girls had a challenge this week that involved running through Walmart and going through some obstacles (again, I don't actually watch the show, so I'm unclear on why this occurred). Regardless, this happened:

The commentary from the blog? "I know it's Walmart, but that doesn't mean you have to act like a toothless aspiring cougar at a biker bar. Learn some manners, Bianca." Perfect.

Also, there was some sort of scarf photo shoot, which I couldn't care less about. However, I absolutely love the fact that one of the girls looks exactly like Macaulay Culkin in her picture. hahaha!

Okay, now I'll get back to imperialism, colonialism, and racism...

This cat is a drummer

The title basically says it all.

Fabulous

"I'm really into snakes. I mean, both the study and cultivation of them."

This is what a seven year old boy said to me at 8:30 this morning. He is a student in one of the 2nd grade classrooms where I tutor and if I had to describe him in one word it would be "fabulous." He looks like Kevin Barnes and wants to be a fashion designer when he grows up. He reads C.S. Lewis while the other children read picture books. Fabulous. I feel like I can related to him. I love precocious children more than kittens, and that is saying a lot.

Pseudo Mom

I volunteer at a community based after school program for Latino kids that is having serious issues with transportation since the schools have cut their budgets for the buses.  So every Wednesday I drive to Mill Creek Elementary to pick up two 4th grade boys.  The school is ridiculously affluent, so the parking lot is swarming with put together young moms who presumably don't work outside the home.  Anyway, I have to get there at least 15 minutes early and I pass the time by chatting up the other moms.  I made a weird mistake the first day by referring to the boys as "my kids," so then it was kinda awkward when two 10 year old Latino boys came over and said "Oh yes! I'm so glad you came back. We haven't seen you since the summer!"  Whatever.  I joke around with the other moms about casseroles and prime-time TV, both of which I know nothing about, but these women haven't caught on yet.  

Spanish

Perhaps the worst introduction ever: "Te presente Allison. Ella habla solamente en el presente."

Translation: This is Allison. She only speaks in the present tense. 

Summerfest

I have been incredibly busy, hence the lack of updates, but I have a few minutes between classes and wanted to share something. Last night after eating Sparky's, Jenn and Barclay and I walked to the stage where a band was playing for 9th Street Summerfest. Summerfest has drawn musicians such as Chuck Berry and Willie Nelson this year, but last night there was a band called Dr Zhivegas. They played covers that were as varied as the audience. There were kids with mohawks next to awkward international grad students next to crusty moms with cigarettes next to dancing obese men in suspenders. It was a night that left no one out. Anyway, this is not so interesting, so I will get to the point. As we were leaving, I noticed that the man in front of me had a fleece wolf blanket draped over the back of his motorized wheelchair.

Cheap yet classy

Pockets

I have two wishes:

1) That every outfit I own has some sort of pocket and...

2) That everything I need to carry will fit in that pocket.

In other news I am going to start taking pictures again.  I'm always a bit confused about who reads this blog, but if you are in Columbia and would be willing to have your picture taken for my project, let me know somehow.  I need as many people as possible!

9th Street is my favorite

There is a group of homeless men who are somewhat of a fixture on the benches of 9th Street in Columbia, Missouri.  There is one in particular that I have a semi long standing relationship with.  The relationship goes likes this:

I walk by him and he asks, "Could you spare any change?"  I usually reply, "Sorry, I've just got plastic."  To which he says, "That's okay.  I take them all.  Visa, Mastercard, even American Express!"  We both laugh and I continue on my way.  

Recently I was approaching him and he yelled, "Hey, I've heard about you!"  I asked him what he had heard and he paused for a second and then started singing, "See that pretty girl in that mirror there! Who could that attractive girl be?"  Yeah, the song from West Side Story.  I had no idea he was a theater man!  I laughed and continued on my way. 

Unintentional Dates

I would say that more often than not, I go on dates unknowingly. This is a ridiculous thing to say, but it is sadly true. I think I lack the appropriate social skills to understand when another person likes me and is intending for our interactions to be more than just a meeting of two friends. I always (usually?) eventually understand that I am on a date when at least two of the following factors are present in the other person: 1) excessive physical contact 2) insistence on paying for my _______ 3) dressed to impress. I must have Asperger's or something. I will tell you about some of my most memorable accidental dates:

1) Eating desserts that cost over $100 with a huge stoner

2) Being informed that someone was going to leave his fiance for me

3) Woman with 8 year old son who talked about the joys of breast-feeding into the toddler years

There have been many other occasions that have led me to avoid certain places and courses. Sometimes these accidental dates leave my life as quickly as they entered, though sometimes they linger. Columbia, I think I am done with you. I need a bigger city where I can better hide myself from my awkwardness.

Computers

“If I were a computer, I would be happy to crash once in a while, because if it were not for the occasional crash, the computer’s human user would waste all of his or her life huddled over a pile of metal and plastic. If the computer truly loved its human, it would want the human to take a break once in a while. To crash is a noble act of sacrifice by the computer.”

- John Maeda

Advice

I've decided that from time to time I will offer small pieces of advice.  If anyone who reads this is also interested in recording advice (of any kind), I will post it.  

Transforming Poodles

Apparently a thing called a "creative grooming" show exists in this country.  Basically people groom and color their poodles to resemble other animals.  Camels, peacocks, pandas.  The possibilities are endless!  I almost want to get a poodle so I can do this.  If disguising a poodle as a pony is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

Check out this article for more information (and pictures!): Poodle Doodles

First Day of School and Masochism

Today was the first day of classes at my school, which means it was my final first day as an undergraduate student.  Unfortunately I have no Monday classes and I won't start tutoring for a couple weeks, so I was feeling a little left out.  Sometimes I like to feel like I'm a part of things, so I walked to campus and proceeded to wander in and out the masses of students.  I walked through the halls of Arts & Science to get to the computer lab.  As I looked in the rooms, I saw professors scribbling numbers and words on the chalkboards and felt really anxious and wished I had a class.  I remembered there was a class that I debated taking called Gender and Human Rights in a Cross Cultural Perspective.  I found a few blank sheets of paper in the recycling bin and promptly headed over to Mumford Hall, hoping for a lecture.  Unfortunately the class only lasted 15 minutes as the professor went over the syllabus.  

After my brief stint of class shopping I headed to the Rec Center where I stayed for 5 hours.  The group exercise classes (TigerX) are all free this week, so I participated in classes ranging from Upper Cut to Absolution.  I also did Zumba, even though I always promise myself that I will never again put myself through that. I guess I'm slightly masochistic in this way.  The video clip above is the exact moves and song you could have seen me performing at 2:15 today.  

New York

I just got back from visiting my brother who lives in Brooklyn.  I've had an almost unhealthy longing for New York since I was a little kid.  When I was 3 years old (and precocious as hell), every time I got upset I would calmly say, "Fine. Then I'll pack my bags and leave in the morning."  My parents would ask where I intended to go and I would say, "New York City."  I have no idea where I learned about New York because I was so sheltered from the outside world, though my best bet is Sesame Street.  

One summer my brother lived in Manhattan and when I visited him, my love for the city was confirmed and I decided that I wanted to live there someday.  My most recent trip left me with a decidedly different feeling.  My brother, Andy, and I are great friends and I had a good time visiting him, but I feel like the city took a shit on me (figuratively, though almost literally).  It probably didn't help that I visited on the hottest days of the year and stayed in an apartment that had no ventilation and smelled like a combination of sweaty balls and Fritos (or so the stench was explained by my brother's friend).  It probably also didn't help that Andy and I just walked around for upwards of 6 hours each day with no water.  My MetroCard randomly and fittingly said "optimism" on the back.  I referred to it many times during my stay.  Anyway, I think my love affair with New York has ended.  I think it's part of growing up.  

Cat Massage

I don't even know what to say about this video.

Better than a slap on the wrist

(This is not that beer I mention below, but it is one I had last night.  I would highly recommend it.  It is 9% ABV!)

Sometimes there are real punishments when people break the law.  Sometimes the punishment is to drink two pints of beer.  Luckily the latter is what happened to me Saturday night.  Nothing went right that night, but it was not unpleasant.  I was semi-tipsy from drinking the pints so quickly in order to meet up with some more friends, though that also didn't work out.  Lisa and I ended up sitting on a bench on 9th Street for a good portion of the night where we listened to a crazy man play guitar/sing Neutral Milk Hotel and show tunes.  Lisa got a video of one of the songs that I wish I could post here.  I tried to get a video of Suwanne River, but we kept getting accosted by drunk men who were mainly just hitting on Lisa.  Apparently I look 17 years old.  One man told Lisa, "You have beautiful brown eyes...they're brown, right?"  He asked her what she was doing in Missouri and told her she should go to Hollywood State University.  She told him that Hollywood is not a state.  This man also said his name was St. Louis.  Around this time I stopped being inebriated and wished that wasn't the case.  Oh, and a praying mantis almost flew into a sorority girl's hair, so that was funny.

Julie & Julia

I just saw Julie & Julia and it was a decent movie, but I was so distracted by the character of Julia.  I've seen short video clips of the real Julia Child and was aware that she had a big personality, but she always seemed authentically female.  This differed from my impression of Julia Child in the movie.  The character seemed like a man trying/failing to act like a woman.  Normally I think Meryl Streep is a good actress, so maybe I'm completely off base here.  Regardless, I felt like she was channeling Mrs. Featherbottom from Arrested Development.

Hmm

I usually think of at least one good thing to write here every several days, but then I invariably tell the story to a friend before I type it out.  Once a story is told, I'm not sure if I should post it here because maybe the person on the listening end is one of only three readers.  Who is my audience?  Stories are for friends and blogs are for times with no friends, but is there an intersection?  I feel like I need a Venn Diagram here.

Catholic

Today I accidentally clicked on an link to Free Rice.  I was about to go for a run (which I hate), so I decided to delay that by answering easy vocabulary questions.  I was doing well until I came across the question below:

They all seemed like they could be correct, depending on the context.  Just so you know, the correct answer is universal.  Who knew?  You probably knew.

Doppleganger or generic?

Arianna and I used to go to music festivals and play a game she made up called "Is this someone I know or is this everyone I know?" I have a variation that is easier to play while shopping at a mall in middle America.  It's called "Is this my grandmother, or is this everyone's grandmother?"  Faces are somewhat blurry to me because I don't wear glasses, so when I see older women I focus on the short, frizzy, often dyed, tightly permed coils atop their heads.  Today I thought I saw my grandmother several times, but none of them turned out to be her.  Does anyone else have this same experience?

(This is not my actual grandma, but close enough.)

I think this also applies to cats.  I used to have a gray cat that I feel embodied the "general cat" look perfectly.  I'm sure you've seen some reincarnation of my cat, but if not, I've included a picture below.  When I was younger I would see cats at friends houses and at the pet stores and I would think to myself, "Is this my cat, or is this everyone's cat?"  

(The picture is not of my former cat, but it may as well be.)

To an extent I think this applies to frat boys/sorority girls/indie kids/goths/etc/etc/etc.  Maybe this is uncouth for me to say and maybe I should invest in some glasses, but do you know what I mean?  When does someone or something stop being a doppelganger and become a generic?  Am I a generic college girl who likes to dress nice and listen to "hip" music? How do I maintain my individuality in this confusing world?!?  Tell me. 

You are all named Vanessa?

I am volunteering at a summer camp for Latino kids that seem to range in age from 4-13.  

Yesterday Dylan (another volunteer/friend) accidentally took some of the kids over to the fence at Douglas Park to look at a dying cat.  I heard him say something like, "I think there's a baby bunny or chickens over there!" A group of little children followed him over to look.  He returned very quickly, distressed, looking for scissors.  He whispered to me something like, "Allison, there is a cat dying over there!  It is stuck in the netting and is strangling itself."  Dylan was a hero and saved the cat right before Animal Control got there.  And he got bitten.  So yeah, that was the start of the day.  

There are two girls, both seem to be about 6, that follow me around a lot.  They seem to like me and are not shy about telling me what's on their mind.  Here is a sampling of some of the things I've been told:

"You have small coconuts." (This, while I was in a bikini, was in reference to my breasts.)

"You look like a leprechaun!  You look JUST like a leprechaun!"

"I want to be friends because I like how you dress."

Housewife and Wheeler

When I was in third grade I convinced my mom that I was responsible enough to care for two mice.  We drove to the local PetCo and I picked out two little mice.  One was brown and another was black/white spotted.  I fixed up the mouse cage in a way that only a third grader would.  I carefully taped up little pieces of wrapping paper on the sides of the cage (for "wallpaper"), hung cotton balls from the top (for "clouds"), and put Fisher Price Little People accessories along the sides (I included a miniature wheelchair and a house).  One mouse stayed in the house all day and only came out briefly to eat and drink.  Thus, I named it Housewife.  The other would run, and run for so long on the mouse wheel.  I named him Wheeler because I was very literal at this point. Wheeler would constantly escape from his cage and I would find him hiding among my Barbies.  My friends would squeal in horror and I thought it was a great surprise.  

After several months, I decided it was wrong to keep mice in cages.  And my dad got mad when he kept finding little mouse poop all over the basement from Wheeler.  So I arranged for a releasing ceremony.  I made my mom, dad, and brother each offer some advice to my mice for surviving in the larger outside world.  Then I let them go, not thinking about how domesticated pet-store mice would probably get eaten the second I stepped back inside.  A few days later, we found the two mice in our garage.  I continued to put out some food and water for them while they "prepared to find a home of their own."  They eventually stopped coming back and I assumed they moved to the nearby woods.  Looking back, I don't think this is what happened.

Urban Schoolhouse Rock?

 

  

Maybe one day I will be teaching in an urban school, relatin' to the students with rap...

Three things from a simpler time

1. Michael Jackson was black and had a nose.

2. Britney Spears took herself seriously as she sang about soda pop.

3. Blankets did not have sleeves.

Coffee Surprise

If you like the idea of striated drinks (tequila sunrise, barely-stirred chocolate milk) but not the reality, may I suggest Coffee Surprise? Here’s the recipe:

1. Buy coffee (with milk)

2. Get 2 packets of sugar (preferably Sugar in the Raw)

3. Wait for coffee to cool a little

4. Put the sugar in. DO NOT stir

5. Drink the coffee with a straw, alternating between regular coffee and bottom-dwelling sugary dump

Different Worlds

At my college there is an elaborate orientation program for incoming freshman.  It is called Summer Welcome and it consists of two fully scheduled days, including a variety show of some sorts.  Basically everyone I've ever talked to had a great Summer Welcome experience that they still remember to this day.  Background: my job this summer is to help the business students register for classes.  When I interviewed for the position I was asked about my favorite Summer Welcome experience, and I said that since I transferred to Mizzou, I had never participated.  "Oh, but I'm sure they had something like this at the college you went to.  Right?" they asked.  "Oh yes," I lied.

It's so weird to think about the vastly different experiences that students will have depending upon where they go to school.  For instance, my orientation at New College consisted of a mass game of "never have I ever," skipping all of the organized events, eating Ethiopian food with my hands on Trevor's (my group leader) floor, breaking into the pool after hours to skinny dip, and attending something called Disorientation.  Disorientation was a a mass initiation (of sorts) into New College culture.  It was filled with ironic keg-stands, a handful of people who were obviously drunk for the first time, drugs of every kind in stomachs and blood streams, sober kids dancing manically, and ridiculously brilliant conversations between soon-to-be best friends.

Students at Mizzou receive a thick packet of professionally printed papers welcoming them to the school.  At New College I received a personal note from the provost enthusiastically welcoming me into the small learning community and a post card from Trevor that said, "Don't go chasing waterfalls.  Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to."

This isn't some sort of sappy/regretful post, but rather just a musing on how I'll never understand Summer Welcome and most people will never understand Disorientation.

48DD

Part of my summer job entails going through old student files, particularly of students who have been kicked out of the college of business.  It is incredibly boring, so to pass the time my co-workers and I tend to leaf through the papers, looking for something amusing.  One time a file said, "Went to Stephen's College. Broke up with girlfriend."  Another said, "Had baby."  But today I hit the jackpot while reading the appeal of a student who was kicked out in 2001:

"Another factor is the issue of my breast.  It blow up 5 sizes over the summer.  (I am 5'3" and 48DD.)"

When being black is compared to having the chicken pox

I have been busy doing fun and spontaneous things all week, thus the lack of updates.  Sorry about that.

Last weekend I worked at Pridefest and a religious fanatic was walking around with a sign that said, "Read the Bible."  I didn't pay him too much attention, but I later found out from a woman working at one of the other booths that he passed out THE most awesome thing ever.  It was a picture of Jesus/Barack being crucified, in the style of the ubiquitous red, white, and blue campaign posters (as seen above) with HOPE written along the bottom.  Yes!

I guess when you're a kid in the 80s with a bad perm, you are subjected to a very specific kind of teasing that draws from multiple systems of oppression.  I hate this clip so much, but at the same time it's so fascinating that this was actually put on TV at one point.  

 

"And it's not like you're really black."  Ugh! Really? Did his mom try to comfort him with that?

Look at how funky he is

I started my day off at 6:45 by stumbling across a little gem I'd like to share with you.  

 

Top that.

JonBenét Ramsey In Space

Summer school is already trying to get the best of me, but I'm not going to let it win.

This picture is my failed attempt at making sushi.  This is what happens when I try to roll it with burnt Basmati rice on the outside.  I still have lots of seaweed and some (i.e. not a lot of) rice if anyone who reads this feels like a sushi night.  

This summer has been filled with questionable decisions and I have no intention on changing that.  Last night I went to a trivia night at the Tin Can, where Adam and I had what I like to think of as a low-class wine flight.  Do you know what a wine flight is?  It's something my parents like to do--to do it, just go to a fancy restaurant and drink lots of different little glasses of wine all night.  Adam and I had a 75 cent beer flight.  It started out with the classic, PBR, then ventured into the horrible territory of Stag, and rounded out the night with the bartender's favorite shitty beer, Stroh's.  After all of that, I had to be at work at 7:30 this morning.  And to top it off, I was not sleeping/eating strawberries for most of the night. 

-I'm blogging/eating sushi/drinking wine instead of reading for my class tomorrow.

-I ran 8 miles yesterday after not running since middle school.

-I can't believe what a self indulgent entry I just made.  I know blogs are essentially narcissistic, but it's like I didn't even try to be entertaining for you.  I'm so selfish.

Here we go 'round the mulberry bush

Mulberries, children, and wine have been the most common themes in my life this week.

Sean and I worked in our garden the other day and built a trellis for our peas.  Our plants seem to be doing pretty well--I will be sure to take a picture soon.  On the way home from the garden we stopped to eat some mulberries off a tree Sean knew of.  While we were picking berries, a group of children ran up and wanted to know what we were doing.  They were nice kids and we spent some time fulfilling requests of "Two for me!" and "I want three this time!" and "I'll put these in my pocket for later."

I later realized that I have a mulberry tree in my backyard.  I don't think I'd ever really had mulberries before last night, but they're good.  Kinda sweet.  I think I might put them in a salad.  Anyway, I was picking some off my tree and a little boy next door called over.  Here is our exchange:

Boy: Why are you eating the tree?

Me: Oh, it has mulberries.  It's kinda like a sweet blackberry.  Do you want to try one?

Boy: Yeah

(a little time passed, then...)

Boy's Mom: What are you doing?  My boy don't eat no tree.

Me: Oh. Sorry?

Eating a tree is a really weird way to phrase it, but I guess I was eating a tree.

I fly like paper

I have been training to be a volunteer at Mid-Missouri Crisis Line, but I think I fucked it up tonight by not being able to find the new location.  It's probably for the best though.  I had previously paired up with an international student for the role-playing portion of training and she had to coach me. Ugh.  I walked her home part of the way and we both talked about how we are not suited for this kind of work and would have wound up telling everyone to just find a counselor.  But anyway, here's a little story of what happened when I tried to go to the new location for the training session tonight.  It was not within walking distance...

 

(I recorded this with my computer, which was placed at a bad angle.  I don't really have multiple chins...)

When I say I'm not good at details, it's not something I'm proud of, just something I've realized is true.  Several times I've made the 20 minute walk to the Rec Center, just to get there and realize I'm wearing snow boots or flip flops (depending on the season).  I usually get most of it right, but just forget the smallest (usually most important) detail.  Ugh.  Such is my life. 

I believe things happen for a reason--not like in a religious way, just in a "thing seem to usually work out" kind of way.  Maybe instead of this I will work with Latino kids through a community organization I've been trying to work with.  I would be much better at that anyway.

Why don't ya talk to me

Lately (as in today) I've taken to smoking cloves.  I know this is unhealthy of me, but I'm only doing it out of boredom and the fact that I found a pack with four cloves in my mailbox.  I think Christopher left them here at a party last month when I said, "No thanks.  I don't really smoke."  I should probably see if he wants them back, but I think he might have moved away.  Not such a big deal really.  This will not become a habit or anything, but it makes me look like less of an old man when I sit on the front porch by myself and watch cars drive by.

Making coffee every morning seems like a hassle; something that will delay the start of my day.  In place of a daily drink, I've filled a mug with beans and I just smell it several times a day.  Truth be told, I enjoy the smell more than the taste anyway.  I used to work as a barista and I always smelled like stale coffee.  The smell was hard to get out of my hair.  And I loved it.