Org. Post: Sunday, December 02, 2007
Mind Your Own Groceries!: In The Name Of Free Coffee + Proper Brewing Methods
The following is an excerpt from a phone conversation with my Mother, last night, (who will be visiting Dec. 11th-13th).
My brother was home and I could hear him in the background. For some reason, that I can only explain as "that's my brother," Matthew was spelling curse words. Example "G-O-D-D-A-M-M-I-T!" I forget exactly what he was spelling but I asked my Mother if this had something to do with his newfound Buddhism. Fact: I made that up, on the spot. My brother, though spelling curse words and generally an amusing guy, is not in the throws of becoming Buddhist. My Mother, however, thought this was just one of the many things she's convinced my brother confides in me about ("No Mom, I don't think he has a girlfriend …Why not ask him?" or "No Mom, Matthew is not doing drugs. C'mon, he locked me out of the house when he first saw me smoking a cigarette …I was 18!" You get the picture).
Me: "Is this [c-u-r-s-i-n-g] part of his journey towards Buddhism?"
Mother: "Matt, are you becoming a Buddhist?"
Matthew: "Yes." [I love when he plays along. King of the poker face]
Mother: "Matt! You need to be careful when you move. There's a lot of Buddhism on college campuses and they'll try to recruit you!"
[My brother, as I've mentioned in earlier entries is moving, in January, to Grand Rapids, MI]
Me: "Mom, I think you have the Buddhist confused with Mastercard."
Mother: "No, Mandy, the Hara Krishnas hang out on college campuses and try to get you to join."
Me: "That's airports, Mom …Circa 1960-70."
Mother: "Oo. Matthew, your sister says it's airports you should be worried about!"
Another excerpt:
Mother: "I'm going to miss your brother so much, Mandy. My boy is leaving me. He's actually doing the dishes right now! Can you believe it? Sure, I asked him to wash them at 2PM, this afternoon and it's almost 11. Oo, I'm going to miss my boy doing the dishes."
Me: "He washes them so rarely, Mom, I'm surprised you don't miss it already."
Mother: "Matt! [laughter] Guess what your sister just said!?"
And another:
Mother: "Did you know that Super Mario can now flip over and jump spears?"
Matthew: "It's the way of the future Mom."
Me: [no comment]
Matthew: "Hey Manda, you'll be dealing with this soon!"
Mother: "Hey Matthew! Mandy, you and your brother treat me as though I'm some virus."
Matthew: "What?"
Mother: "You both treat me like I'm syphilis or something!"
Me: [no comment]
Note: I forget exactly why this came up in conversation but I assure you, it had purpose and wasn't as completely random as it may seem].
I've been racking my brain, all day, trying to remember more of this conversation. My sides hurt from laughing, I do remember that but soon my Nyquil kicked in.
__________________________________________
I wrote this, on Friday night:
It's hard to be boastful while choking down a delicious and "fizzy" piping hot beverage (sludge). I'm speaking of course about Airbourne or to be honest, Air Protector (the Equaline off-brand equivalent. Much like it's label, I challenge you to compare the ingredients). I should note, for the sake of nitpickingly irrelevant observations everywhere (or just in my head), that orange flavored Air Protector, while bright orange in cold water, appears a swamp-like green when heated. The smell is akin to unsolidified Jell-O (hit the nail on the head, with that one). What I'm saying is that A. I'm drinking hot Air Protector, at the moment to ward off the awful tickle in my throat and ache in my cheekbones, B. It's hard to be boastful while doing so …That's my introduction to the introduction of my day, which was as follows:
645AM, blurry eyed, cold
Dunkin Donuts Manager: "Good morning! It's so nice to see you again, what can I get for you?"
Me: "Extra large, just black coffee, please"
Dunkin Donuts Manager: "You got it!"
[pours coffee]
Me: "Thank you"
Dunkin Donuts Manager: "I see you often. This one is on the house!"
Me: [I was still somewhat half asleep and later second guessed on whether or not I sounded stunned/surprised/grateful enough …I hope so) "Thank you, have a nice day."
Dunkin Donuts Manager: "You too!"
That's right. You know what they say, "Every good deed …" (I forget the rest. Or is it "every stone left unturned …"). Well, I'm saying (and I'll quote myself) "Every incompetent Dunkin Donuts employee who you compliment on a job well done for you own personal gain and side strategy …There's an extra large black coffee, free of charge in your gloved hand, on a far from balmy Friday morning."
I planted that seed and beamed the entire way towards work.
___________________________________________
My collection of "coffee brewing methods other than a drip coffeemaker" or "how I discovered superior coffee brewing methods and learned to hate the drip coffeemaker," is complete, as of last Weds. I found the last piece of my self-imposed puzzle at (of course) my beloved/pay-day ritual, local Brown Elephant thrift store …My very own, good as new espresso pot or "moka" pot. I assure you that this thrills me to no end. I now have: the cold press method (aka "toddy" method), the French press, a Turkish coffee pot, the Chem-X method and now espresso/moka pot.
It's the simple things in life, I suppose. Some people collect Precious Moments, some collect parking tickets …I collect coffee brewing methods, books and lint.
_________________________________________
I'm always amused by what others buy at the grocery. Admit, you scan over the groceries of the person in front of you, as they rid the conveyor belt. There was that time I noticed a girl buying an abundance of ice cream, followed by a "jumbo" pack of vaginal yeast cream. I really had to bit my tongue on that one and try to distract myself with the latest news headlines (I'm of course speaking of Star, National Enquirer, US Weekly, etc.) …I wanted to kindly tap her on the shoulder and suggest that she cut back on the dairy and maybe she wouldn't need enough vaginal yeast anti-itch cream to justify the label "jumbo".
There's of the course the grocery/convenience store game of "purchase two items that might cause the clerk to raise their eyebrows" (Example: a banana and a tube of Vaseline).
Last Thursday, before work, I stopped by the grocery to pick up a few things. As I stood in the 15 items or less lane, I scanned over my purchases and had to stifle a giggle.
-1 pack faux-turkey slices
-soy cheese
-14 cans of Fancy Feast
-1 box Chanukah candles (they were on sale for 39 cents)
I know I was in the 15 items or less aisle and I was buying 14 cans of Fancy Feast. I had my defense ready, just in case one of the ladies in behind me commented. My defense: "How many apples are in that bag?"
Needless to say, I really need to work on my groceries giving a skewed perception of myself.
Sigh.
Org. Post: Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Black Umbrella On White: Snow Like Sugar, All Is Clean
Weds., 1246PM
I'm finally beginning to feel the season. The snow started coming down, a few flakes here and there, mid-afternoon yesterday and has held somewhat steady ever since. As I begin this type, flurries mingle downward at my windowsill. It was all I could to withhold the urge, last night, to make snow angels in my pajamas. I called Neil, knowing that out of everyone he'd share in my feelings of giddiness over this sudden douse of snow. If there are two things that bring a sparkle to Neil's eyes, it would be snow and sugar …And, well, recycling.
I have to admit, I sort of miss the view from my old apartment. It was a nice view, come snowfall …If anything, I'd characterize it as expansive …The lake on one end and a perfect shot up my old street, to the trains, on the other. Though, the windowsills weren't as sit-friendly (I've just coined that phrase) as the ones I now have. I'd wedge myself on them, regardless and people watch, from 7 stories above. Don't get me wrong, my apartment now is far superior and what little I can see of the snow buried courtyard, with my forehead to the glass, is quite breath taking …Directly across the courtyard, I get a view of a neighbor's living room. I call her "Nebraska-girl," due to what I'm assuming are photos of her nieces and nephews decorating her walls and an elaborate crucifix hanging above one of her doors. It seems very Nebraska, to me, very corn-fed, Midwestern. Then again, such view is obscured now, giving way to the overstuffed Christmas tree, in her living room. It's lights catch my eye whenever I enter my own living room. My Nebraska-girl observations make for another entry, entirely, at a later date.
I was sitting on my sofa, this morning, having read today's Red Eye, front to back (I like my news watered down and in caption-sized form, as of late …Plus, it's free). I woke up this morning to my friend Luke messaging me to tell me about his inclement sinuses. I then pulled on my somewhat dry jeans, hanging from the shower's curtain rod and opted to go to Dunkin Donuts for a cup of coffee (I'll get back to the moment I was sitting on my sofa, in a moment). This of course after feeding the cats, Primo was at a near level 8 anxiety level, sounding his alarm. I bundled up, stuffing my bed-head into my coat's hood and tip-toed my way amongst the icy footpaths, to Dunkin.
Immediately there was the manager, "Good morning," "Nice to see you," "How are you?", "Can you believe this snow?," etc. I went to the counter and was about to give my order, when said manager yelled to the cashier "EXTRA LARGE BLACK COFFEE, TIA! EXTRA LARGE BLACK!" …The girl and I both looked at each other, a bit startled. Thank you manager guy for your forceful customer service. I should note that I was the only one @ the counter. I saw no need to rush. Ah well. Coffee in hand, I jumped a snow hill to get to the nearby Red Eye box and made my way home.
And there I was, sitting on my sofa, casually listening to a segment on Fresh Air about dragonfly migration (which mentioned eyelash glue) and skimming an article about "20 Ways To Get Into The Holiday Spirit," which I now wonder was more of a pun on words since most of their suggestions included $10-$12 spirits (Then again, I'm probably giving them more credit than needed). I looked across the living room, into my bedroom and through my bedroom window, at my other view. There's a condo building, next door, almost the length of myself from window to deck (I'm 5'7" and ¾ respectively, mind you). There's a door, out to my condo neighbor's deck. I've never seen this door opened and for as long as I've lived here, there's a tuxedo jacket hanging, on a hanger, on the outside of the door. This confuses me. Have they forgotten that it's there? Maybe it's a relic of some forgotten hide and seek game of men's apparel. I then thought that maybe the wearer of said tuxedo jacket was once attacked by a skunk and it needs to air out for 6 mths. I'm not sure but it did strike me funny, with snow flurries threatening to rest upon it's lapel. Maybe the jacket is of some cotton blend that is best left amongst the elements. Or it could very well be some form of yuppie-art that is so above me that I don't get it's artistic statement and see it as a mere tuxedo jacket, when it truth it speaks of commercialism or the inner male ego, something along those lines. Maybe I should hang one of my cardigans in my windowsill. You think condo, you think closet space. Ah well.
845PM
I'm tired. I should make some tea, flip my Daryl Hall & John Oates cassette to side B, light the second candle on my menorah, give Primo his insulin and take a shower, in an effort to defrost my toes (my socks are still a bit damp, from running my errands throughout the day).
Org. Post: Thursday, December 27, 2007
Camus Smells A Rat: Nebraska-Girl + the Spread Of Nazi Germany, in III Parts
[Working title" Rear Window"]
I. Draw them in with familiarity. Use humor. Be humble. Argue that you're normal and in the following example, you lose things too, just like the average joe. Also known as the "I put my pants on one leg at a time, too" defense.
I wear Crocs to work (actually, they're not Crocs, they're the Airwalk equivalent. $14.99 at Payless. I'm not spending $30+ on a pair of shoes with the sole purpose of dipping into bleach between isolation wards and slipping on cat urine). You know, the paper light, clog-like shoes with perforated holes (Yeah, those masterpieces of craftsmanship). I only wear them to and from work. Given the winter season, I've started doubling up my socks. I prefer a thin, knee-high pair with my beloved fuzzy socks overtop.
Last week, after a morning's worth of work, I decided to finally answer that question that plagues most: "Am I a boot person?" It's been years since I've owned a pair of boots. I decided to browse at a nearby shoe store (Yep, Payless. I'm not spending $30+ on a pair of boots I'll be wearing 2 months out of the year). I ended up trying on a few pairs and found my answer: No. After the shoe store, I stopped by the grocery to pick up a few things. Walking home, my feet felt colder than usual. The thought of the temp dropping drastically within a half hour was somewhat doubtful (though not completely, this is Chicago). I continued home …Yes, my feet really did feel cooler. I stopped, looked down at my shoes and realized that my fuzzy socks weren't poking through the holes, per usual. Then it hit me: While trying on boots, my fuzzy socks, both of them, came off inside the boots. Whoops. I was too embarrassed to walk back to Payless and ask if I can look inside their fine fine selection of boots.
"Hi, it's me …again. Yeah, I didn't buy anything last time, either. No, no I haven't changed my mind. Actually, I'm looking for a pair of socks. No, no not from your selection. More specifically, I'm looking for my beloved, 2 yrs old, haven't been washed in a couple of days, covered in cat hair fuzzy socks …I think I left them in a pair of your boots."
I really loved those socks too. I remember thinking, as I stood at the corner of Broadway and Foster, awaiting the crossing signal …"Loved? Not eonugh, I guess."
II. Continue with the familiarity. Win their trust. Draw them in slowly.
It's dark across the courtyard. I miss the glow of Nebraska-girl's obnoxious Christmas tree, as I sit on my sofa, eating a cup of applesauce.
I like to over generalize BUT before doing so I always make a point to say "not to over generalize." That said, not to over generalize but I think Nebraska-girl went back to Nebraska for the holidays. "But that's not over generalizing," you say.
Not yet.
My neighbor across the courtyard, the one where I can directly peer into her living room given the shades being up, I affectionately (of course I do so affectionately, I'm not an ass and I should note that I've met plenty of fine people from the great state of Nebraska) call her "Nebraska Girl," though not to her face because that would mean we've actually met. Which we have not.
I lived in a studio apartment for nearly 2+ years. A place best described as a breadbox with a kitchenette in a shallow closet. During my years of residence, before my following one bedroom a few floors above my old studio and my current residence (one bedroom) a neighborhood's width away from the old, I never once used the stove. Having a gas stove/oven crammed next to a bit-sized fridge and literally an inch away from my sink (which reminded me of the bathroom sinks at my elementary school), scared me and with such a small place gave me very little space to run. A makeshift rope of socks and unused linens would undoubtedly be pointless since I'd have to tie it to an anchor directly next to or the actual source of the fire.
Before I continue, I'll readily admit that there are nice studio apartments out there and for those friends who are studio dwellers, they've managed to work wonders. I'm not anti-studio, I'm anti-my old studio …And I lived there, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Did I muse about the institutional white walls? Perhaps another time.
Back to the bread basket of the Midwest …I've never met Nebraska-girl and I honestly wouldn't consider myself a voyeur (then again, what voyeurs readily admit to such a title, internet chat rooms aside) …I don't mean to stare into her apartment. The fact that my eyes occasionally dart toward any sort of movement behind her windows or to scoop out her décor is merely a coincidence. A coincidence that I try to play off as though one of my cats is actually by the window and my gaze is in fact set on them. Bare with me, I think of such things and I've allowed such thoughts to drive to fake petting of imaginary-not-by-the-window cats.
"Oo why there hello, Primo" [petting air below windowsill]
[Primo across the room] "What the hell is she doing now?"
At first, I reasoned with myself (I live alone with four cats …I reason a lot …to myself) that I was studying her apartment to see what she did with her walls and if she found any neat way to better equip one's kitchen. It's like checking out someone who has the exact same car as you do, parked next to your own …You're just peering inside to see how they utilized their cup/coin holder or found a stealth spot for a fuzz detector. Harmless curiosity (I've never done the car bit, I don't drive).
What I was trying to get at with the studio apartment bit is that since living in such cramped quarters, I have the habit of keeping my shades pulled up at all times. It gave me a feel of space. Plus, I have very little to hide personally …If seeing me dash across my living room in a towel or my robe gives you the idea that you know me, you haven't a clue.
I started referring to her as Nebraska-girl after noticing a wall purely devoted to framed Sears portraits of what I'm assuming are her nieces and nephews. There's also a rather large, ornate crucifix hanging over one of her doorways. Then again, this is just purely circumstantial but strikes me very corn-fed, down home, family loving, God fearing …very Nebraskan. Granted, the handful of Nebraskans I know are agnostic, more family-tolerant than family-oriented and they prefer broccoli to corn (I asked around and seriously who could blame them? At least broccoli digests).
I bet she works with children or the disabled or perhaps disabled children. Wait, the elderly, she must work with the elderly. She could be a nurse. I once walked passed her en route to my own job and come to think of it her off-white shoes leaned more towards the supportive opposed to sporty or fashionable …Then again, I wasn't really looking.
Let me take a moment to remind everyone that I haven't any cable.
Once, when my friend Luke was over, we both found ourselves distracted by the movement across the courtyard.
[Luke, sitting on my sofa, staring at me] "What is Nebraska-girl doing now?"
[Me, facing Luke, looking over his shoulder, pretending to study the far corner of my living room] "I think she's …dancing. Wait, wait, she's wearing her red apron. She must be cooking …The kitchen light is on. No, no she's dancing …in her red apron. I bet she's listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir."
One week later:
[text message from Luke] "What are you up to?"
[reply text message] "Nebraska-girl has a date. I'm not sure. Doesn't look good. Crap. Blinds down."
III: WAR!
If this seems a bit …odd, whoa-ho, let me continue (whoa-ho?). The part that amuses me is that I wonder what she must think of me. When you live this close, no one is innocent of spying or sizing up the neighbors (no matter what you say). I think about this from time to time and then it hits me: What does she care? That's when I laugh, shake my head and pretend to pet a cat.
I feel comfortable admitting this to all of you (my kind-hearted, non-judgmental readers) because a month or so ago, I ran it across my friend and neighbor Marshall, and he seemed to (completely) understand my angle on this.
"The funny part, Marshall is that as soon as I think of her looking in on me and sizing up my life, I realize what an awful, narcissistic notion that is. What does she care? I then realize that I'm thinking way too much and the fact that she could be keeping tabs on just how many cats I do have, is ridiculous."
To his credit, Marshall is an upstanding, respectful gentlemen who I'm sure is both a registered voter and regularly calls his Mother. I can say this with my own Mother's approval, after running into Marshall in our courtyard, during her recent visit.
[Me] "Mom, this is Marshall"
[pleasantries/handshakes exchanged]
[Marshall] "Nice meeting you" [walks away]
[Mom to me] "He has dimples."
I think this all stems from being an avid Nancy Drew fan as a child …Plus, being raised by a woman who conmsidered the National Enquirer to be a reputable newspaper…And my hidden fascination with the make-up of peoples' individualistic normalcy.
Oo, you work at such and such a place?
You're from such and such, USA?
Neat.
What's on your coffee table?
Can I look in your fridge?
I care very little what brand you wear, your thoughts on Kaftka, how much those Stickley bookends cost you, who you are or are not sleeping beside. It's not a matter of who but how. What cards are in your wallet? How many shampoo bottles and bars of soap do you have in your shower? Can I look at your bookshelf?
The things that you rarely explain unless someone arrives too early or too late …The things that you organize, stash away or restock when someone visits or when you're in the beginning stages of a new relationship, you suddenly become aware of the order of things, your things and with one glance is so normal to you or abnormal to another.
This may be a bit lowbrow but it's sort of like the argument, which my friend Neil is rather adamant about, that everything you eat is a vote (Ah, food politics, I consider that a lowbrow parable, a stretch to explain my point …Please bare with me) …Everything we purchase, everything we throw away (or in Neil's case, recycle), everything we put in order or casually toss aside speaks volumes of how we are. I argue saying "who" we are because I don't want to go down the road of "we are not what we own/don't objective objects/things are just things" blah blah blah hooey. It's the how verses the who.
Then again, I'll readily admit and take your argument that I think entirely way too much.
I'm just saying that tea leaf reading is a multi-million dollar industry (I have no concrete data to prove this) but the contents of one's purse, the contents of one's coffee table can tell us plenty.
Then again, this could also lean towards assumption.
"I just assumed that you LIKED institutional-white walls and tattered powder blue carpet."
RETREAT!
Dear Ms. Self,
You just wrote 4 pages on some hair-brained schemed defense for shamelessly spying on your neighbor. Not only did you write 4 pages on such but you likened it to Nazi Germany and the spread of the Third Reich way of thought.
Please do not waste anymore time trying to explain that it's 1AM and that you should be in bed. Do not mention the amount of coffee you drank today or that one glass of wine. Do not backtrack and try to explain that you haven't written anything in days.
Being tired and a touch slap-happy is no excuse for such ramblings. Millions of people died, Self. A whole culture was nearly wiped clean off the face of the Earth.
You're clearly stalking your neighbor and have never been to Nebraska.
You are creepy. You are writing a letter to yourself.
Apologize and go brush your teeth. Don't forget to floss. Go put on your pajama pants …one leg at a time.
Yours,
You
TREATY
I am sorry. I'm sorry Nebraska-girl …I'm sorry Germany …And Poland.
[Cut to scene from childhood]
Mom: "Mandy, honey, not everyone is going to understand your sense of humor. When the kids pick on you it's because they are intimidated and jealous. You're ahead of the game and very mature for your age. A lot of great minds were made fun of. Einstein. The Wright Brothers. Martin Luther King. Richard Simmons. Not that Woody Allen, though, he's a pervert."
[Cut to foreseeable future]
Mom: "Hey honey, have you been writing anything new?"
Me: "Actually, yes …Want to hear it?
Mom: "Of course, baby. I love your writing."
10 minutes later …
Mom: "Hmm …That's nice, Mandy. Why are you apologizing to Poland? And Woody Allen IS a pervert! Oo! Have you watched that copy of 'Sharky's Machine,' that I gave you, yet? Didn't Rachael Ward play a great hooker?"
Org. Post: Sunday, December 30, 2007
It’s All The Same Price: 70% Acrylic, 15% Wool, 15% Mohair
First things first, a big thank you to the driver who honked his/her horn as I completely wiped out on the sidewalk, last Friday. Thank you …Your honking both served as a way to censor the expletives in my mind and to truly capture the moment for all to see.
In case you were concerned, Mr./Ms./Mrs./Sir driver, I'm ok. The stiffness has made it's way from my tailbone to my neck and throughout my left arm/wrist. I have a bruise the size of Alaska and I've been reliving memories of when I was 12 yrs old, when I dreamt of becoming an Olympic figure skater.
I'd also like to thank the woman who, on Saturday, took it upon herself to make an impromptu left turn and almost hit me with her car. I'm very diligent about crossing signals, ma'am and I take my stance as a pedestrian very seriously. I appreciate the foot distance you gave me to get out of the way and I assure you the look of shock on my face wasn't to embarrass you. It was a moment of realization that I was almost killed by an elderly woman, in an Astro van with a handicapped parking tag on her mirror. That is not how I'd choose to go out but thanks anyway for bringing that realization home (and the offer).
And now to our scheduled program.
Today had me thinking of New Years' past (actually today, per usual, had me thinking about a lot of things but for the sake of a theme, I'm going with New Years').
The first New Years, after my parents' (drawn out and overdue) divorce …I spent it with my Mom and Matthew. I made pasta and Pillsbury croissants (the height of fine-dining when you are 14). We ate our dinner on the sofa, with glasses of sparkling grape juice (though my Mother's smelled different) and watch "The Blob" (the original with Steve McQueen). Matthew fell asleep on the floor by the time the ball dropped and I followed suit, curled up on the sofa with my Mother, the faint smell of weird sparlking grape juice on her breath.
It's the one New Years that seems both normal and somewhat profound at the same time. Either way, it's the only one that really sticks out in my memory (I was so proud of my oven skills) and knowing what I know about the years to follow…I wouldn't change a thing. Though, that said, I'm happy to never have to be 15 or 16 again.
Throughout the past couple of weeks, I've found myself following a pattern.
Insert one of the following:
-Reading
-Watching a movie
-Brushing my teeth
-Laying in bed, wondering if my neighbor below me can hear the hollow echo of Alton + and his mighty
feet.
That's generally the beginning of my recent habit. Perhaps I'm walking to the store. Either way, I ultimately
find myself in front of my laptop's glow, a blank Word document before me. The blinking line.
I sit there, much as I am now, though in this case I'm making that blinking line work for it's due pay.
I was reading, music playing, Alton and his mighty feet thumping away (I should take up jumping rope, what does it matter? I'm sure it's all the same to my neighbor, downstairs) …I'm wearing quite possibly the most comfortable cardigan I've ever owned and while I feel compelled to return to my reading, I'd hate to break the pattern.
The New Year, that's what I'm getting at (sigh of relief). With Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza and the arrival of winter behind us, I've been puzzled as to why people are still wishing one another a "happy holiday" (First though: Little late, hmm?) …Ah yes, the New Year, must have slipped my mind. Which is a complete and total lie as in the my brief moments of quiet time, I find myself debating on just how to go about summarizing 2007 ("brief" being yet another complete and total lie …I'm sure I'd have more quite time if I allowed for such and didn't cram every non-working moment with some errand, project or need for distraction).
Time's running out and if within a month's time I'm still following pattern, debating 2007, help me …please.
So here it is: Switzerland. I'm going to take the Switzerland stance, that which is neutral. I'm neither leaning towards pessimism (more of a refusal for such old hat) nor am I going for the sort of (be it) forced optimism, popular amongst this time of the year. Pessimism, optimism, regardless of how genuine, oddly seems phony or a put on, come New Years. Like any year or day, I'm hopeful. It's hard to deny such when with each passing year (and hindsight) reveals a progression of learned lessons and continued mistake be it upward or downward.
Looking back at this passing year, I remain firm on my Swiss ground. There were triumphs, big (my apartment, full-time, friendships and if I can be so candid shedding the remnants of a faltered relationship that went on for far too long) and small (this cardigan I'm wearing right now, a great meal, clean radiators and my latest and greatest thrift finds). There were disappointments of equal scale (small: "Maybe I'd like you better if you had bangs" and big "Maybe I'd like you better if you had bangs"). Surprises, realizations, new additions (Alton), rainy days, humid days, obstacles (Oo that move), renewed strengths/weaknesses/gratitude, comings/goings …You get the picture. And just as the year before it, the scale widens.
So while I want to write something that might inspire or cause some in-depth reflection …Or perhaps reveal something unknown about me. I'm sticking with neutral and continuing on whatever (excuse me for the term) path I'm on. I haven't a clue what the new year will bring but I know there will be 366 days (it is a leap year, afterall) to reveal it all and maybe this time next year I will change my stance …Russia, perhaps?
[Freeze frame, slow dissolve, cue inspiring yet ominous music, the passing out of "Do you like me, circle: yes or no" cards]
….And so you have it. Happy New Year.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Archives: Sept. 2007
Org. Post: Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Einstein On Parade: Q. Chicken or Egg? A. Who cares!? What’s Zach Braff up to?
If you've read over my "blog" throughout the past year or so ...Then you know that my inspirations vary from time to time, subject to subject. Your general ebb and flow of day to day occurrences, characters and random (yet dare I say vital and/or relevant) ...Oo so relevant) observations.
What is one to do without internet?
My two month "blackout" of sorts by no means trumped the year of 2003. Also known as the "Great Hard-Drive Meltdown of '03" ...But regardless drove me to the point of insanity. Ok, so that's a bit melodramatic. Nuts? Bananas? Pluots? Pen to paper is fine. Typewriters still have their place. Let's be honest, though ...Doogie was onto something years ago.
What I'm trying to get to is this: When you're without the internet and have writer's block, feeling a bit low and at a loss ...You should read Parade Magazine. You know Parade, it can usually be found in the "meat" of your local Sunday newspaper. It's a hair shy of a tabloid (which to some is the news ...I'm not pointing (my Mother) fingers @ anyone). It's a real mood lifter (if not a bit of a brow furrower) and serves as a prime example that there's always a soul or two a bit worse-off than your own.
I've been known to treat myself here and there to a Sunday Chicago Tribune or perhaps the New York Times ...The Sunday Tribune is usually available on Saturdays ...Since I work on Sundays, I'll nab a Sunday copy on Saturday and live out my Norm Rockwell-inspired Sunday newspaper/coffee moment. Which ultimately throws me off and come Sunday I'm thinking it's Monday. Anyway, I'm being wordy.
So there I was, rifling through the meat of the Sunday Tribune, on a Saturday ...Coffee at hand, cigarette in tow ..."Ah, Parade ...Why not?" ...One page into this slim read ...Let the good feels and back-pats commence!
There I was hmming + hawing about my ebb + flow being disrupted and the inevitable "grand update" looming before I felt just in writing anything and somewhere someone is going about their day and then they're struck with some of life's greatest crossroads: "Do you think Tiger Woods named his daughter Sam because he was hoping for a boy?"
[The following is a fictional dramatization aside from the end, brought to you by an actual Parade reader]
Charles: "Hi Bob, how are things today? Can you believe the story about that guy who just passed away from inhaling the fumes from his bag of microwaved popcorn?"
Bob: [silence/staring off into space]
Charles: "Ah, Bob? Hey ho, Earth to Bobby!"
Bob: "Ooo sorry, Charles ...I was just thinking ...What explains Mandy Moore's failed relationships with so many guys—actors Zach Braff and Wilmer Valderrama, tennis ace Andy Roddick and disc jockey DJ AM?"
Here are just a few more examples:
"Q. As a fan of The Closer, I was distracted by Kyra Sedgwick's clownish red lipstick. I wrote to the show to complain—and, sure enough, she changed shades. Did viewers have a hand in that?
—Phyllis, New Jersey"
"Q. One of our favorite actors is Ernest Borgnine. What's he up to these days?
—Jerry and Linda, New Mexico"
"Q. Now that he has a hit sitcom, According to Jim, does Jim Belushi finally feel free of his late brother John's shadow?
—Kristin, New Jersey
"Q. I recently looked up Sylvester Stallone on the Internet and noticed that two of his daughters have the middle name Rose. Why?
—Stephanie, California"
"Q. A night at the movies rides on this bet: I say that Tony Blair is the longest-serving prime minister in British history. My brother-in-law says, "No way." Who wins?
—Dee, Rhode Island"
"Q. What has happened to the Rev. Robert Schuller Sr.? Why doesn't he deliver sermons on Sunday's Hour of Power TV program anymore?
—Susan, North Carolina"
"Q. Whatever happened to the cast of the 1970s series Welcome Back, Kotter?
—Sharon, New Jersey"
Thank you Parade, thank you.
____________________________
I'm at a coffee shop ...While typing the above, it started to rain ...hard. I have one last errand on my day-off agenda: grocery shopping. I thought it best to wait out the rain ...While doing so, a Mother and her two young daughters came into the coffee shop.
Mom: "We're just going to wait out the rain, girls"
Daughter: "Are we eating here?"
Mom: "Oo no! We'll just get a beverage"
Daughter: "What's a bev..beverage?"
[a few moments later]
Mom: "Now don't drink too much apple juice!"
Daughter: "But I wanna!"
Mom: "You normally don't drink juice this late."
...It was 5PM.
I bet she reads Parade ...Actually, I bet she reads the Chicago Tribunes' "Ask Amy" ...As for that, don't get me started.
Org. Post: Saturday, September 08, 2007
Thank You For Letting Me Bend Your Ear
My name is Amanda Jordyn ...Some of you (Yes, you) know me as Amanda, some of you (Yep, still you) know me as Jordyn ...A select few have come up with their own hybrids (AJ, AJ Phelpsy, A to the J, Manders, Manda, Jordy, J-[insert animal +/or currrency] ...Mandy).
Where was I? Ah yes, my name is Amanda Jordyn and I have addiction ...An addiction? Yes and it's spilling throughout my life (well, ok my coffee table, bookshelf, nightstand, bag, etc.) ...I like books. I like books ...a lot. I like books of various genres, various sizes, color, languages and lengths.
A funny thing happened to me on my way to the library, this morning ...Library books in tow, I no sooner made it out of the gate of my apartment building when I found myself smack-dab in the midst of a neighbor's yard sale ...En route to the library, I end up purchasing two books and a double-disc Nina Simone album (For the curious: Raymond Carver's "Where I'm Calling From," a tattered copy of John Updike's "Rabbit, Run" ...The Nina discs? The Tomato Collection, a very tough find). And all for under $5. Plus, while I was @ it I figured I make a new friend because hey, why not?
Treavor lives in the condo building next door and it was his yard sale that I browsed ...Sedaris, Burroughs, an abundance of Bette Midler CDs (And I noticed a few Her Space Holiday CDs ...Sure, why not?). He noticed the Nina Simone discs in my hand:
Treavor: "Oo my God, don't you love her?"
Me: "Yes! I can't believe you're parting with this."
Treavor: "I know, I know ...I had to special order it. Have you seen her live concert film? I saw it at the Gene Siskel Film Centre, last year ...I had to go out and buy it the next day!"
Me: "Oo! Unfortunately, I missed it ...To be honest, I really shouldn't be buying more books ...I'm actually on my way to the library to return a few."
Treavor: "Do you live around here?"
Me: "Yes, actually I live right next door."
Treavor: "Well, you have to borrow my copy of Nina's live concert ...I'll brb right back!"
...And that is how a copy of Nina Simone's "Live at Montreux" found it's way inside of my bag ...Along w/ two more books to stack on my coffee table and 2.5 hours of Nina Simone audio. Sigh. (I then renewed a couple of books at the library and checked out a new one: Lonely Planet's "Farsi Phrasebook" ...Hey, why not?).
I was actually going to write about the eclectic nature of my apartment ...My growing book addiction a large part of such ...But I'll cut to the chase and just show you "the creepy pillow," an amazing find, if I do say so myself (And I do).
And now for some b-sides, if you will ...Some of you have heard these stories, to some they will be new ...Left on the backburner in the midst of my ongoing get-my-barrings-back updating.
Title: "What Have I Done For Brown Today?"
A couple of weeks ago (or maybe it was a week ago ...They all bleed into one another) ...On a Monday (I know that for sure ...Actually, it was two weeks ago, yes), I was awaiting the arrival of a "very important package" (this handy dandy laptop) via UPS. It was supposed to arrive on either Monday +/or Tuesday. Both days I had to work 11AM-7PM. Aside from the flash-in-the-pan chance of catching the UPS man on my half hour lunch break, I feared I'd be playing a game of tag with UPS. (Oo, I live close to work ...I generally go home for lunch). I told my coworkers, that Monday "If the UPS man stops here, come find me. I need to talk w/ him" (My reason being that I wanted to see if I could have my "very important package" delivered at work).
Jump mid-afternoon, my coworker Joan comes downstairs and tells me "The UPS man is here but I had to haggle him to stay ...You better go catch him! He's out by his truck." (Montage: Pull off labcoat, wash hands, dip shoes, run upstairs).
I ran out to meet the UPS man, next to his truck ...There we stood, next to the truck (it's important that you know such a redundant detail) ...I explained to him the situation and he pleasantly (he really was pleasant ...I'm not being sarcastic) explained to me that I just need to write a note w/ my signature and pin it up on my building's door and they will deliver it -Hooray!
UPS Man: "Well, have a nice day" [extends hand]
Me: "You too. Thanks again" [shakes hand]
UPS Man: [Starts to walk by, leans in, sort of ..I swear]
Me: [HUGS UPS man]
I thought he was leaning in for a hug -In hindsight he was leaning to get past the truck ...I ran back into work, went back downstairs to resume feline medicating ...Which I had to stop abruptly for a few minutes of laughter ...Inner thoughts: "Amanda Jordyn, what did you do!? You HUGGED him!? What on Earth made you think he wanted to hug you in the first place!?
Next day: I left a note on my building's buzzer. I came home on my lunch break to not only find that my "very important package" had indeed arrived but that it was actually awaiting me at my apartment's front door. Later that day, at work the UPS man stopped by to make sure I had recieved my package safe + sound.
Let this be a lesson to you ...Hugging can help.
Title: Alton Brown Is Not Spider-Man
My Alton Brown (not to be confused with the Food Network personality but just as profficent when it comes to the genus of oncorhynchus gorbuscha ...er, salmon) ...Well, my Alton is a curious cat (as in odd) and under the assumption that he has Spider-Man like capabilities. A flat wall, void of any ledge or perch? Alton will attempt to jump straight up. What he sees? I haven't a clue.
He's a gangly sort ...Big bunny feet, long limps and ears that hopefully someday he'll grow into. He's also a silent cat ...Strange, I know but I rarely hear him utter even a meow.
Earlier this past week, Alton joined in w/ his siblings, whining for food. "He speaks!" I thought ...Great, so Primo has taught him a thing or two.
Thursday morning, I woke up to Primo, on top of me and Alton whining in the background ...I couldn't see Alton, as I wiped my eyes of sleep and assured both Alton + Primo that I was waking up, that I'd be feeding them soon.
Alton just kept whining + whining ...I sat up in bed, looked out into my living room and there I saw my Alton Brown ...Teetering on the outside window ledge, one foot dangling ...Unable to turn himself around or else he'd fall. Nightgown + all, heart in stomach ...I flew out of bed, across my living room ..."Don't move!" ...I threw open the window, grabbed him and pulled him back inside.
I then inspected my window's screen, which unbeknownist to me had had a tiny slit on the far upper right-hand side ...A slit that I assume Alton elborated upon and found his way out on the ledge. I generally keep the window, in the living, opened a couple of inches before I go bed ...I'm assuming Alton worked his magic with that as well.
After the intial adrenaline wore off ...I took it as a compliment that Alton didn't jump ...Silent, half-bunny and unable to scale walls ...He likes me, he really likes me.
_______________________________________
One last note:
In this week's Chicago Reader, I found a course catalog from Loyola University's Continuing Education program. On a whim, I leafed through it ...Head shaking, my sighs supressed ...I came across this:
[Writing + Communication Section]
"The Blogosphere + You:
Websites, blogs, podcasts and many other innovations have changed traditional media and opened up new channels for creativity and participation. Learn how to read the trends and make sense of the techno-jargon and buzzwords as you prepare to build your own blog!"
...Toss in their "Interpreting St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians" and you'll be on your way! If that doesn't work, they also offer a course entitled "So You Want To Be An Actor".
...And on that (last) note, I added a few new pictures to my "blogosphere".
Org. Post: Saturday, September 15, 2007
Turn It On: 1-800-FRENCH BREAD
Last night, I made a stop @ my local grocery (a sale on oatmeal -Oo my!) ...I stood in line behind a couple that might have been crazier about oatmeal than myself. Finally, I made it to the cashier. I paid for my goods and the cashier handed me my receipt:
Cashier: "Here's your receipt, Ms. Phelps ...[points to a 1-800 number printed on the receipt] ...And here is a 1-800 number you can call to take a short survey. If you complete the survey you win a free loaf of Jewel french bread!"
Amazing. I placed the receipt in my pocketbook and took my oatmeal home. I had a date with a steaming bowl of apples + cinnamon, in front of "Fire Walk With Me" (It's been an odd week ...So odd in fact that Lynch is making sense).
I woke up this morning, found my way into the kitchen ...4 pairs of eyes eagerly watching my every move ...Soon those eyes were nose deep in oceanfish + tuna (Mmm ...What exactly is oceanfish?]. Before long, I, myself was nose deep in a hot cup of coffee and the latest copy of the Chicago Reader (skimming an article about a "diverse" group of people who had their way with the closets of up and coming designers throughout Chicago ...I found it interesting that this "diverse" group all had a toe-hold within the fashion industry themselves and one man's wallet cost $180 ...The wallet wasn't pictured so I figured it was in his pocket]. "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" was on the radio. My bag was nearby and I need a pen for the Reader's crossword puzzle. Last night's Jewel receipt was sticking out of my pocketbook and I remembered the 1-800 ...I figured "Why not?," so I grabbed my cellphone and dialed up the number. I answered three questions by pressing 5 for "very" and 1 "not very" ...I was then given a code for my free loaf of Jewel french bread and instructions on how to give the code to the cashier during my next shopping trip. Great. That was ...anti-climatic.
________________________________________
This morning's "Sound Opinions" featured the Flaming Lips ...It was the first time in years that my stereo speakers played the Flaming Lips and I was reminded of those many trips out to Denny's with Lexi, so long ago. "Transmissions From The Satellite Heart," was a staple that summer ...Much like the Trivial Pursuit board that we brought along for our hours spent at Denny's.
"She don't use butter/she don't use cheese ...."
Remembering such times reminded me of the city I moved from. The city which I very rarely wax reminiscent about and usually make the distinction that I "moved from" and that I'm not "from" Midland, Michigan.
The nearest Denny's was in Saginaw, Michigan ...About 40 minutes away. Which lent itself to plenty of time for the 43:04 minutes of "Satellite Heart".
Explaining why we would drive the 40 minutes almost nightly for the iridescent glow of a bottomless cup of coffee and the disinterity-inducing Moons Over MyHammy ...Means explaining Midland itself. Something I'm not really apt to do but led me to do a quick Wikipedia search.
"Man, everyone's chewing the apple you've got in your eye ..."
The last census on Midland, Michigan was in 2000 ...Then the population was at 41,685. Lexi and I both moved two years later so that makes the census of 2002, 41, 683 ...at least.
I often refer to Midland as the "home of Dow Chemical," which is true ...Dow Chemical was founded in 1867. Fantastic. Remember that the next time you use Saran wrap ...Much like those that will never forget their limbs lost to napalm, in Vietnam (Oo yeah, Dow was the maker of both napalm + agent orange).
[Note: There was much debate about including that last bit ...I feel so crass. I just thought you should know].
Midland is the sister city of Handa, Aichi Japan ...Who knew?
Midland is 93.38% white, 1.82% African-American and 0.06% Pacific-Islander. 8.8% of which fall below the poverty line (It should be noted that Midland predominantly builds their lower-income housing outside of the city limits).
"You can be my head/because I can't afford a new one ..."
There are 80 parks ...Nestled amongst the numerous attractions in Midland city proper. These attractions include: The Alden B. Dow House, Dow Gardens, Dow Chemical Company (itself), Dow Corning, the Herbert Henry Dow House, the Grace A. Dow Library ...See a theme? How could I not remember the Tridge ...A three-way footbridge, constructed in 1981. Three-way bridge ...Tridge, get it? Fun for the whole family ...And beautiful views of both the Tibbawassee and the Chippawa Rivers ...Both of which cross paths with the Dow Chemical Dam ...Which doesn't need further explanation (three-headed fish ...I'm not saying anything).
I was amused by the list of Midland's "famous," which include: Robert Jarvik (inventor of the Jarvik-7 artificial heart and can now be seen peddling Pfzer's Liptor on TV), Cathy Guisewite (best known for her Cathy comic strip and embittered, 40-some year old women with relationship/work crisis-es everywhere), Earl Warwick (inventor of Silly Putty ...which, upon further research was originally called both "nutty putty" and "potty putty" and served as an attempt to replace rubber in World War II) and Steve Shelley (drummer for Sonic Youth ...Whose parents actually live a couple of blocks from my Mother. I can still recall a super-fan who kept camp on the sidewalk, in front of the Shelley's ...A weathered copy of "Daydream Nation, in hand ...Rain or shine).
All of which brings us back (in no way whatsoever) to Denny's, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to the Flaming Lips, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to this morning's "Sound Opinions.
"I don't care if it rains or freezes ..."
_____________________________________________
My coffee is cold.
Einstein On Parade: Q. Chicken or Egg? A. Who cares!? What’s Zach Braff up to?
If you've read over my "blog" throughout the past year or so ...Then you know that my inspirations vary from time to time, subject to subject. Your general ebb and flow of day to day occurrences, characters and random (yet dare I say vital and/or relevant) ...Oo so relevant) observations.
What is one to do without internet?
My two month "blackout" of sorts by no means trumped the year of 2003. Also known as the "Great Hard-Drive Meltdown of '03" ...But regardless drove me to the point of insanity. Ok, so that's a bit melodramatic. Nuts? Bananas? Pluots? Pen to paper is fine. Typewriters still have their place. Let's be honest, though ...Doogie was onto something years ago.
What I'm trying to get to is this: When you're without the internet and have writer's block, feeling a bit low and at a loss ...You should read Parade Magazine. You know Parade, it can usually be found in the "meat" of your local Sunday newspaper. It's a hair shy of a tabloid (which to some is the news ...I'm not pointing (my Mother) fingers @ anyone). It's a real mood lifter (if not a bit of a brow furrower) and serves as a prime example that there's always a soul or two a bit worse-off than your own.
I've been known to treat myself here and there to a Sunday Chicago Tribune or perhaps the New York Times ...The Sunday Tribune is usually available on Saturdays ...Since I work on Sundays, I'll nab a Sunday copy on Saturday and live out my Norm Rockwell-inspired Sunday newspaper/coffee moment. Which ultimately throws me off and come Sunday I'm thinking it's Monday. Anyway, I'm being wordy.
So there I was, rifling through the meat of the Sunday Tribune, on a Saturday ...Coffee at hand, cigarette in tow ..."Ah, Parade ...Why not?" ...One page into this slim read ...Let the good feels and back-pats commence!
There I was hmming + hawing about my ebb + flow being disrupted and the inevitable "grand update" looming before I felt just in writing anything and somewhere someone is going about their day and then they're struck with some of life's greatest crossroads: "Do you think Tiger Woods named his daughter Sam because he was hoping for a boy?"
[The following is a fictional dramatization aside from the end, brought to you by an actual Parade reader]
Charles: "Hi Bob, how are things today? Can you believe the story about that guy who just passed away from inhaling the fumes from his bag of microwaved popcorn?"
Bob: [silence/staring off into space]
Charles: "Ah, Bob? Hey ho, Earth to Bobby!"
Bob: "Ooo sorry, Charles ...I was just thinking ...What explains Mandy Moore's failed relationships with so many guys—actors Zach Braff and Wilmer Valderrama, tennis ace Andy Roddick and disc jockey DJ AM?"
Here are just a few more examples:
"Q. As a fan of The Closer, I was distracted by Kyra Sedgwick's clownish red lipstick. I wrote to the show to complain—and, sure enough, she changed shades. Did viewers have a hand in that?
—Phyllis, New Jersey"
"Q. One of our favorite actors is Ernest Borgnine. What's he up to these days?
—Jerry and Linda, New Mexico"
"Q. Now that he has a hit sitcom, According to Jim, does Jim Belushi finally feel free of his late brother John's shadow?
—Kristin, New Jersey
"Q. I recently looked up Sylvester Stallone on the Internet and noticed that two of his daughters have the middle name Rose. Why?
—Stephanie, California"
"Q. A night at the movies rides on this bet: I say that Tony Blair is the longest-serving prime minister in British history. My brother-in-law says, "No way." Who wins?
—Dee, Rhode Island"
"Q. What has happened to the Rev. Robert Schuller Sr.? Why doesn't he deliver sermons on Sunday's Hour of Power TV program anymore?
—Susan, North Carolina"
"Q. Whatever happened to the cast of the 1970s series Welcome Back, Kotter?
—Sharon, New Jersey"
Thank you Parade, thank you.
____________________________
I'm at a coffee shop ...While typing the above, it started to rain ...hard. I have one last errand on my day-off agenda: grocery shopping. I thought it best to wait out the rain ...While doing so, a Mother and her two young daughters came into the coffee shop.
Mom: "We're just going to wait out the rain, girls"
Daughter: "Are we eating here?"
Mom: "Oo no! We'll just get a beverage"
Daughter: "What's a bev..beverage?"
[a few moments later]
Mom: "Now don't drink too much apple juice!"
Daughter: "But I wanna!"
Mom: "You normally don't drink juice this late."
...It was 5PM.
I bet she reads Parade ...Actually, I bet she reads the Chicago Tribunes' "Ask Amy" ...As for that, don't get me started.
Org. Post: Saturday, September 08, 2007
Thank You For Letting Me Bend Your Ear
My name is Amanda Jordyn ...Some of you (Yes, you) know me as Amanda, some of you (Yep, still you) know me as Jordyn ...A select few have come up with their own hybrids (AJ, AJ Phelpsy, A to the J, Manders, Manda, Jordy, J-[insert animal +/or currrency] ...Mandy).
Where was I? Ah yes, my name is Amanda Jordyn and I have addiction ...An addiction? Yes and it's spilling throughout my life (well, ok my coffee table, bookshelf, nightstand, bag, etc.) ...I like books. I like books ...a lot. I like books of various genres, various sizes, color, languages and lengths.
A funny thing happened to me on my way to the library, this morning ...Library books in tow, I no sooner made it out of the gate of my apartment building when I found myself smack-dab in the midst of a neighbor's yard sale ...En route to the library, I end up purchasing two books and a double-disc Nina Simone album (For the curious: Raymond Carver's "Where I'm Calling From," a tattered copy of John Updike's "Rabbit, Run" ...The Nina discs? The Tomato Collection, a very tough find). And all for under $5. Plus, while I was @ it I figured I make a new friend because hey, why not?
Treavor lives in the condo building next door and it was his yard sale that I browsed ...Sedaris, Burroughs, an abundance of Bette Midler CDs (And I noticed a few Her Space Holiday CDs ...Sure, why not?). He noticed the Nina Simone discs in my hand:
Treavor: "Oo my God, don't you love her?"
Me: "Yes! I can't believe you're parting with this."
Treavor: "I know, I know ...I had to special order it. Have you seen her live concert film? I saw it at the Gene Siskel Film Centre, last year ...I had to go out and buy it the next day!"
Me: "Oo! Unfortunately, I missed it ...To be honest, I really shouldn't be buying more books ...I'm actually on my way to the library to return a few."
Treavor: "Do you live around here?"
Me: "Yes, actually I live right next door."
Treavor: "Well, you have to borrow my copy of Nina's live concert ...I'll brb right back!"
...And that is how a copy of Nina Simone's "Live at Montreux" found it's way inside of my bag ...Along w/ two more books to stack on my coffee table and 2.5 hours of Nina Simone audio. Sigh. (I then renewed a couple of books at the library and checked out a new one: Lonely Planet's "Farsi Phrasebook" ...Hey, why not?).
I was actually going to write about the eclectic nature of my apartment ...My growing book addiction a large part of such ...But I'll cut to the chase and just show you "the creepy pillow," an amazing find, if I do say so myself (And I do).
And now for some b-sides, if you will ...Some of you have heard these stories, to some they will be new ...Left on the backburner in the midst of my ongoing get-my-barrings-back updating.
Title: "What Have I Done For Brown Today?"
A couple of weeks ago (or maybe it was a week ago ...They all bleed into one another) ...On a Monday (I know that for sure ...Actually, it was two weeks ago, yes), I was awaiting the arrival of a "very important package" (this handy dandy laptop) via UPS. It was supposed to arrive on either Monday +/or Tuesday. Both days I had to work 11AM-7PM. Aside from the flash-in-the-pan chance of catching the UPS man on my half hour lunch break, I feared I'd be playing a game of tag with UPS. (Oo, I live close to work ...I generally go home for lunch). I told my coworkers, that Monday "If the UPS man stops here, come find me. I need to talk w/ him" (My reason being that I wanted to see if I could have my "very important package" delivered at work).
Jump mid-afternoon, my coworker Joan comes downstairs and tells me "The UPS man is here but I had to haggle him to stay ...You better go catch him! He's out by his truck." (Montage: Pull off labcoat, wash hands, dip shoes, run upstairs).
I ran out to meet the UPS man, next to his truck ...There we stood, next to the truck (it's important that you know such a redundant detail) ...I explained to him the situation and he pleasantly (he really was pleasant ...I'm not being sarcastic) explained to me that I just need to write a note w/ my signature and pin it up on my building's door and they will deliver it -Hooray!
UPS Man: "Well, have a nice day" [extends hand]
Me: "You too. Thanks again" [shakes hand]
UPS Man: [Starts to walk by, leans in, sort of ..I swear]
Me: [HUGS UPS man]
I thought he was leaning in for a hug -In hindsight he was leaning to get past the truck ...I ran back into work, went back downstairs to resume feline medicating ...Which I had to stop abruptly for a few minutes of laughter ...Inner thoughts: "Amanda Jordyn, what did you do!? You HUGGED him!? What on Earth made you think he wanted to hug you in the first place!?
Next day: I left a note on my building's buzzer. I came home on my lunch break to not only find that my "very important package" had indeed arrived but that it was actually awaiting me at my apartment's front door. Later that day, at work the UPS man stopped by to make sure I had recieved my package safe + sound.
Let this be a lesson to you ...Hugging can help.
Title: Alton Brown Is Not Spider-Man
My Alton Brown (not to be confused with the Food Network personality but just as profficent when it comes to the genus of oncorhynchus gorbuscha ...er, salmon) ...Well, my Alton is a curious cat (as in odd) and under the assumption that he has Spider-Man like capabilities. A flat wall, void of any ledge or perch? Alton will attempt to jump straight up. What he sees? I haven't a clue.
He's a gangly sort ...Big bunny feet, long limps and ears that hopefully someday he'll grow into. He's also a silent cat ...Strange, I know but I rarely hear him utter even a meow.
Earlier this past week, Alton joined in w/ his siblings, whining for food. "He speaks!" I thought ...Great, so Primo has taught him a thing or two.
Thursday morning, I woke up to Primo, on top of me and Alton whining in the background ...I couldn't see Alton, as I wiped my eyes of sleep and assured both Alton + Primo that I was waking up, that I'd be feeding them soon.
Alton just kept whining + whining ...I sat up in bed, looked out into my living room and there I saw my Alton Brown ...Teetering on the outside window ledge, one foot dangling ...Unable to turn himself around or else he'd fall. Nightgown + all, heart in stomach ...I flew out of bed, across my living room ..."Don't move!" ...I threw open the window, grabbed him and pulled him back inside.
I then inspected my window's screen, which unbeknownist to me had had a tiny slit on the far upper right-hand side ...A slit that I assume Alton elborated upon and found his way out on the ledge. I generally keep the window, in the living, opened a couple of inches before I go bed ...I'm assuming Alton worked his magic with that as well.
After the intial adrenaline wore off ...I took it as a compliment that Alton didn't jump ...Silent, half-bunny and unable to scale walls ...He likes me, he really likes me.
_______________________________________
One last note:
In this week's Chicago Reader, I found a course catalog from Loyola University's Continuing Education program. On a whim, I leafed through it ...Head shaking, my sighs supressed ...I came across this:
[Writing + Communication Section]
"The Blogosphere + You:
Websites, blogs, podcasts and many other innovations have changed traditional media and opened up new channels for creativity and participation. Learn how to read the trends and make sense of the techno-jargon and buzzwords as you prepare to build your own blog!"
...Toss in their "Interpreting St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians" and you'll be on your way! If that doesn't work, they also offer a course entitled "So You Want To Be An Actor".
...And on that (last) note, I added a few new pictures to my "blogosphere".
Org. Post: Saturday, September 15, 2007
Turn It On: 1-800-FRENCH BREAD
Last night, I made a stop @ my local grocery (a sale on oatmeal -Oo my!) ...I stood in line behind a couple that might have been crazier about oatmeal than myself. Finally, I made it to the cashier. I paid for my goods and the cashier handed me my receipt:
Cashier: "Here's your receipt, Ms. Phelps ...[points to a 1-800 number printed on the receipt] ...And here is a 1-800 number you can call to take a short survey. If you complete the survey you win a free loaf of Jewel french bread!"
Amazing. I placed the receipt in my pocketbook and took my oatmeal home. I had a date with a steaming bowl of apples + cinnamon, in front of "Fire Walk With Me" (It's been an odd week ...So odd in fact that Lynch is making sense).
I woke up this morning, found my way into the kitchen ...4 pairs of eyes eagerly watching my every move ...Soon those eyes were nose deep in oceanfish + tuna (Mmm ...What exactly is oceanfish?]. Before long, I, myself was nose deep in a hot cup of coffee and the latest copy of the Chicago Reader (skimming an article about a "diverse" group of people who had their way with the closets of up and coming designers throughout Chicago ...I found it interesting that this "diverse" group all had a toe-hold within the fashion industry themselves and one man's wallet cost $180 ...The wallet wasn't pictured so I figured it was in his pocket]. "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" was on the radio. My bag was nearby and I need a pen for the Reader's crossword puzzle. Last night's Jewel receipt was sticking out of my pocketbook and I remembered the 1-800 ...I figured "Why not?," so I grabbed my cellphone and dialed up the number. I answered three questions by pressing 5 for "very" and 1 "not very" ...I was then given a code for my free loaf of Jewel french bread and instructions on how to give the code to the cashier during my next shopping trip. Great. That was ...anti-climatic.
________________________________________
This morning's "Sound Opinions" featured the Flaming Lips ...It was the first time in years that my stereo speakers played the Flaming Lips and I was reminded of those many trips out to Denny's with Lexi, so long ago. "Transmissions From The Satellite Heart," was a staple that summer ...Much like the Trivial Pursuit board that we brought along for our hours spent at Denny's.
"She don't use butter/she don't use cheese ...."
Remembering such times reminded me of the city I moved from. The city which I very rarely wax reminiscent about and usually make the distinction that I "moved from" and that I'm not "from" Midland, Michigan.
The nearest Denny's was in Saginaw, Michigan ...About 40 minutes away. Which lent itself to plenty of time for the 43:04 minutes of "Satellite Heart".
Explaining why we would drive the 40 minutes almost nightly for the iridescent glow of a bottomless cup of coffee and the disinterity-inducing Moons Over MyHammy ...Means explaining Midland itself. Something I'm not really apt to do but led me to do a quick Wikipedia search.
"Man, everyone's chewing the apple you've got in your eye ..."
The last census on Midland, Michigan was in 2000 ...Then the population was at 41,685. Lexi and I both moved two years later so that makes the census of 2002, 41, 683 ...at least.
I often refer to Midland as the "home of Dow Chemical," which is true ...Dow Chemical was founded in 1867. Fantastic. Remember that the next time you use Saran wrap ...Much like those that will never forget their limbs lost to napalm, in Vietnam (Oo yeah, Dow was the maker of both napalm + agent orange).
[Note: There was much debate about including that last bit ...I feel so crass. I just thought you should know].
Midland is the sister city of Handa, Aichi Japan ...Who knew?
Midland is 93.38% white, 1.82% African-American and 0.06% Pacific-Islander. 8.8% of which fall below the poverty line (It should be noted that Midland predominantly builds their lower-income housing outside of the city limits).
"You can be my head/because I can't afford a new one ..."
There are 80 parks ...Nestled amongst the numerous attractions in Midland city proper. These attractions include: The Alden B. Dow House, Dow Gardens, Dow Chemical Company (itself), Dow Corning, the Herbert Henry Dow House, the Grace A. Dow Library ...See a theme? How could I not remember the Tridge ...A three-way footbridge, constructed in 1981. Three-way bridge ...Tridge, get it? Fun for the whole family ...And beautiful views of both the Tibbawassee and the Chippawa Rivers ...Both of which cross paths with the Dow Chemical Dam ...Which doesn't need further explanation (three-headed fish ...I'm not saying anything).
I was amused by the list of Midland's "famous," which include: Robert Jarvik (inventor of the Jarvik-7 artificial heart and can now be seen peddling Pfzer's Liptor on TV), Cathy Guisewite (best known for her Cathy comic strip and embittered, 40-some year old women with relationship/work crisis-es everywhere), Earl Warwick (inventor of Silly Putty ...which, upon further research was originally called both "nutty putty" and "potty putty" and served as an attempt to replace rubber in World War II) and Steve Shelley (drummer for Sonic Youth ...Whose parents actually live a couple of blocks from my Mother. I can still recall a super-fan who kept camp on the sidewalk, in front of the Shelley's ...A weathered copy of "Daydream Nation, in hand ...Rain or shine).
All of which brings us back (in no way whatsoever) to Denny's, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to the Flaming Lips, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to this morning's "Sound Opinions.
"I don't care if it rains or freezes ..."
_____________________________________________
My coffee is cold.
Archives: June 2007-August 2007
Org. Post: Tuesday, June 05 2007
Stuart Kills Bugs: A Love Story
[10AM, outside of my apartment's door, hallway ...I was running across the street for coffee before getting ready for work]
Me: [locking door]
Billy Preston Exterminator: [down the hallway, spray tank in hand] "I'm in love!"
Me: "Good morning!"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in love! I ...am ...in ....LOVE!"
Me: " ...Congrats! ...??"
BPE: "Yeah, but you haven't asked me with who?"
Me: " ...Who?"
BPE: [points @ me] "You!"
Me: "Aww"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in loooove! Mmm mmm mmm, damn!"
Me: [walking towards elevator] "I can't handle all this love before my coffee! Have a great day!"
BPE: "Ooo, I will now. My great day started the moment I saw you!"
Me: [elevator!]
[10 mins. later, returning w/ coffee in hand ...Meredith (front desk) and BPE, let me in)
BPE: "Look at her! I love that girl! But break my heart, she only got one cup of coffee!"
Meredith: [laughing/eye rolling]
_______________
By the way, my Billy Preston Exterminator's real name is [drumroll]: STUART!
Org. Post: Thursday, June 21, 2007
The World Is Full Of Quacks: I'm Moving
For those of you who don't know ...I'm moving. No, no not from Chicago ...A new apartment.
I fear the time has come for me to part ways with the address I've had for the past 5 yrs. That's right, the reigning (bum-appointed) "Princess of Granville," is stepping down.
For the past week or so I've been meaning to write a lovely, heartfelt and dare I say awe-inspiring (cue "Chariots of Fire") farewell piece ...Something to signify the end of this chapter in my life and the beginning of the next. I thought of when I first moved here ...My first shoebox studio ("You mean to tell me that the kitchen is in the wall!?") or when I moved up a few floors to my first 1 bedroom ("Wait, I have a kitchen!?"). The additions along the way (Lola had to move over for Primo who had to move over for Princess Milo ...And how unbeknownst to them they will all be moving over again for Alton Brown) ...The people, the sounds, the days when I could tell the time according to the streetlights, the smell of coffee wafting in from the coffee shop across the street. My corner store (Buying something for $7? "That will be seven hundred") , my Winnie (checkout lady @ the grocery), my CTA Don Juan, my Conchita @ the Currency Exchange, my Meredith @ the front desk (who turned pale and welled up with tears when I finally broke it to her I was leaving), my Billy Preston Exterminator aka Stuart (who broke up with me when he found out I was moving ...I think he was just hiding his pain), my Regina @ CVS ...All of the characters that played a role in my life for the past 5 yrs.
I wanted to write something to signify that this era is closing ...But then a duck came into my life and such cepia-washed memories were sent to the scrappings.
A duck?! What!?
Let me tell you a little something about "departure" letters ...I've never seen one but from what I gather they are generally (or rather allegedly) given to tenants who are moving out. I hear that they are three pages long and chock-full of useful information like: We're going to show your apartment to prospective renters, your apartment will be replastered before you move, you must vacate the premises by Noon on June 30th.
Since I never recieved such a letter, I was completely unaware of the above ...So please take a moment to imagine my shock when I found out that:
A. My apartment had been showed (or as it was put "Your cats showed very well")
B. My apartment has already been rented
C. That the "plaster guys" are coming to replaster tomorrow (I believe it went something like this: "You mean all of my stuff will be covered with plaster?" Reply? "Yes")
D. That I indeed must be moved out by Noon -next Saturday.
Needless to say I wasn't all that happy.
Earlier today, shortly before leaving for work, I opted to meet with the operations manager of my building and ask if we could possibly reschedule this replastering business closer to my actual move-out day. Surprisingly that was ok ...I then pressed about this supposed "departure" letter and somehow/someway the person who was in charge of sending me such notification was completely clueless that I was even moving out. Which I take as a safe assumption that I'm not going crazy (I rifled through every scrap of paper I have in an attempt to find such a letter ...I found nothing) and that I indeed never received such.
That's when my operations manager reached behind his desk and handed me a duck ...I'm serious. A yellow plush duck.
Operations Manager: "Here you can have the duck as an apology for the whole letter mix up"
Me: "Thanks?"
I then took said duck in the palm of my hand and exited the office with a puzzled look and my mouth slightly agape ...I stepped into the elevator towards my floor, the whole walking up the hallway is a bit of a blur but somehow I found myself sitting @ my desk, starring @ this duck ...And thinking: A duck, I live here for 5 yrs. and I get a duck. You come into my apartment without notifying me of your comings or goings with my cats, with my stuff ...You bring strangers into my apartment who probably were petting my cats and looking at my stuff ...You nonchalantly tell me that the "plasters guys" will be coming over regardless if I am home or not ...You tell me that I must be moved out of my apartment by Noon on the 30th -the very day that the woman who lives in my new apartment is moving out and that the only freight elevator time slot open is 8AM ...You go against a handful of renters' rights and then ...THEN ...You hand me a duck.
I honestly couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
So goodbye Granville, goodbye building ...I'm taking Mr. Quack and I'm leaving ...And if by chance the name of said building every comes up in conversation or I overhear someone wondering "Oo I was thinking of calling up [insert my building's name] for a showing," I will casually say: "Let me tell you about my duck ... "
Org. Post: Monday, July 30, 2007
Release Your Frown: Have You Seen Me Lately?
Greetings!
Gee, it's been awhile ...You look great! Did you lose some weight? Is that a new fedora?
Me? Oo, I'm good ...Doing a-ok. I'm a bit pressed for time but I thought I'd type a quick update. I'm such a lapsed-blogger. I fully intend on updating more often and more along the lines of my former entries ...But time, Oo time, I'm pressed.
Apartment? Love it!
My move? Please place finger to lips (sideways), move up and down.
Alton? (new cat) He's great ...Big webbed bunny feet and I think he's part platypus (I'm awaiting test results).
I hope to post photos soon. Ooo the stories I've collected over the past month.
Until then ...
Org. Post: Friday, August 31, 2007
A Soft Semi-Return
[Open with present-day]
I wrote the following, last night (Thursday) …In hopes of posting today @ a nearby coffee shop (Oo wireless, you had me @ free). So here I am @ that nearby coffee shop. There's a somewhat medieval sign next to my head that reads "Stone Soup," hmm …I'm not really sure what to think of that but then again such things are probably best without much thought. Which brings me to what I originally wrote, last night -Ha! Take that self! …I started out explaining my move, 2 mths ago …But now in the light of day, coffee coursing throughout my veins …I've decided to switch things up a bit and end with the torrid tale that has become known as my move. I figured this would work best for those who might find themselves thinking "I thought she was done telling this story …". So instead, I'll flip things around and start w/ the end and end with the beginning. Ready?
[Thursday night]
Well, lookie me -I'm on your screen! Hi. It's me, again. What's it been …2 mths? I came back as soon as I could. I apologize for such blatant tardiness.
I'm actually typing this late Thursday night -A few minutes shy of Friday. After I caught myself contemplating such things as just how many threads make up my kitchen rug and/or the process of water purification through osmosis (the diffusion of a solvent through a semipermeable membrane from a dilute to a more concentrated solution. Thanks Webster). Plus, I thought it best that I save my Dictionary of Mathematic Terms for a later (rainier) day …I thought I'd check out if MS Word still holds that certain kind of charm that used to amuse me so.
Ah, the begrudgingly tedious chore that is updating …Take no offense, it's not you …I've been living with such an update looming about my brain for 2 mths now …Where to begin. Those of you who have been in contact with me over the past couple of months (which I affectionately refer to as "shit storm" or the appended "It was the worst of times …It was the best of times …For optimism's sake, the latter) feel free to take a trip down memory lane with me …For those who I've lost contact with along the way, you look taller, you look thinner -Oo who am I kidding, you're fabulous and I hope you enjoy. (Did I mention it's almost Midnight?)
[Cut to the original end]
Things have been good. Busy, hectic, a downplay of stress but good nonetheless. I'm in love with my apartment and if it wasn't for all the black + blue, I'd still be pinching myself every morning since my move @ the thought that this is actually my apartment. I get to wake up here everyday …It's the apartment I wished I had moved into 5 yrs ago but that I can in turn can now appreciate to the fullest having lived elsewhere.
Aside from the various new sights, sounds and surroundings in my life …There's also been a new addition to my feline population. A week after my move, Alton Brown (the cat) came home …With his alien-good looks, bunny-sized feet and complete lack of coordination …Alton has become one of the brood and has aided in my ongoing fear of becoming a cat lady …You know the type. Trust me, I'm fighting it tooth and nail …Alton's the limit, my cut off point. I like him, he's sort of in love with me -It works. In my defense, with Lola's anti-social personality, I really only have three cats. Then again, with Primo's incessant need for attention and validation, he's like having 2 cats …So maybe I really have 5 cats -Crap.
I made full-time @ work, finally and now with my commute literally 1 minute away and the added bonus of having lunch @ home …It's working out alright. Though what job is without an amount of stress? No really, I'm asking …A mime, perhaps? That person who turns the crank @ a bingo parlor? Vanna White? (Yes, I'm reaching).
I'll be copy/pasting this later on this morning/afternoon from a nearby coffee shop that offers free wireless …Much like the local library but with coffee. You see my point? (Coffee).
My birthday is this Saturday ..In turn, my Father surprised me with a laptop. It really was a surprise given that my Father and I speak 3x a year and we haven't seen each other in 2. I'm beyond thankful and this document has been keeping me company as I upload my complete iTunes library off of my back-up cds …Tedious, yes.
This will be my first actual saved document on my yet unnamed laptop (Actually, I think I inadvertently named it Amanda Jordyn's Computer …Ah, the vanity).
In a few months time I'm hoping to have internet within my apartment …So until then, I'll be hopping on the caffeinated free wireless bandwagon …A craze that has fortunately hit my neighborhood full fledged.
I'm on back-up disc 28 out 30 and I only backed up to the T section …Which means the rest I'll have to pull off of my old computer (which is another story within itself) with my gig stick …Yes, gig stick. Try saying that casually.
Maybe I'll stop after 28, tonight …And reread this with coffee @ hand, come morning …And completely throw it to scrap and rewrite something more up-tempo and full of pep.
[Cut to the original beginning]
My move …The best way to describe my move on July 1st would be if you placed your finger to your lips (go ahead) and in a fast-paced motion moved said finger up + down. Nuts. Then again, does moving spare anyone? A quick rundown (because Lord knows I've had to tell this story countless of times) …My dear friends Lisa + Paul enlisted themselves to help me move (In my defense, I had helped them with their own move back in April) …I spent the eve of my move sorting through nearly 5 yrs of life, pulling a one nighter as I slowly debated the perks of stealing a shopping cart and wandering aimlessly throughout the downtown area, asking strangers if they know the alternative name for a one humped camel? (Answer: dromedary …you're welcome). Morning soon arrived, Lisa + I met up @ the train stop and later a bus towards the UHAUL garage …Patting one another on the back as we sipped our coffee, so on top of things …Sun streaming across our beaming faces, time on our side (this is the good part of the story, let me enjoy it). We picked up our UHAUL, which we affectionately christened "Peppy" and we were on our way. We stoped by my new apartment, met up with the former tenant as she bid her own farewell, picked up my new set of keys and then stopped off to pick up Lisa's husband Paul …Soon we were @ my old apartment ("Ground Zero," if you will) …I ran upstairs (by way of elevator) and started sorting just how to go about all of this. A handful of minutes later, Lisa came walking up the hallway …Face reddening, eyes slightly glassy:
Me: "What's wrong, sweet pea?"
Lisa: "The ..truck won't start"
Me: "Oh! Well that's ok!"
(Later on, Lisa would admit to me that she wasn't sure I heard her correctly seeing as I took such news a bit too well. The truth is, it was within that moment that I "went away" and pure adrenaline is to blame for the rest of the day …I just kept thinking "Hey, it's not rainy! Do you know the alternative name for a one humped camel?").
My former building ("The building of which we will not speak of …ever …again) works on an elevator-time rental and my minutes were ticking away. I continued to pack, while Lisa haggled with the UHAUL customer service. They couldn't rent us a new truck so instead they got the brainiac scheme to pack the broken down "Peppy" and then they'd had a tow truck to tow it to my new apartment. Tick-tock, we were growing desperate. Even more so by the group of maintence men that were lined up outside of my (opened) apartment door, awaiting my vacation to start revamping the place. There was the carpet guy, who had himself a seat across the hall …Watching me furiously running about, throwing things into boxes, into bags ..sipping his coffee and offering priceless advice, such as:
Carpet Guy: "You should have moved the cats first …"
Me: "I'm a vet assistant, sir"
Carpet Guy: "Is that so?
Me: "That is so …sir"
A slew of hijinks ensued:
-Did I mention that my building manager wanted me out by Noon? I had the elevator from 10AM-Noon. Though by law I until Midnight to move out. The law meant very little to these people and I was determined to get out. The UHAUL breakdown threw a wrench into our plans and well, that meant very little to these people too. (Again, I'm refering to the guy who gave me that stuffed duck …Remember that? Yeah, that kooky guy. A real chuckle.
-Duck-Man found his way in the midst of my nightmare and said:
Duck-Man: "Amanda, your elevator time is almost up and well …those stairs are going to be hard."
Me: "Ah yea, I'm getting out."
-At one point the building stopped the elevator with Paul still in it …To which Lisa had to rundown to the front desk and demand they turn it back on.
-Every time I left my place to move things down to the truck, I was convinced that the maintence vultures outside of my door were going to go in. My three cats were still in the apartment -horrified.
-Danger Mike finally showed up and proved to be not only a bonus vehicle and some much needed comic relief but an overall kick in the rear that we all needed.
Hours later, we finally cleared out my apartment …I stopped by Duck-Man's office to drop off my old set of keys and sign out my lease. I stepped into his office and immediately noticed something quite familiar. I sat down across from his desk in a chair that my ex and I had thrown out well over a year ago. Lovely. I gave him the keys and signed my name on the dotted line.
Duck-Man: "Amanda, see that jar of candy over there …on the bookshelf? That's for you! (complete with pointing @ me).
I was a bit numb @ this point so I grabbed the candy and walked out of a building I had lived in for nearly 5 yrs., my first in Chicago. Needless to say, I wasn't in much of a sentimental mood.
Paul + Danger Mike awaited the tow truck to show up. Lisa + I packed up my cats a few odds n ends that would fit in her hatchback and headed off to my new place. We park out front and start getting things around. Lola was near comatose. She really had me worried …She was actually handable which immediately gave cause for alarm. Pupils dilated, drooling on herself and refusing to unfold from a somewhat fetal position. Primo was ok, panting but ok. Princess Milo didn't really realized we moved until @ least the beginning of August.
I reached into my bag and felt for my keys. I'll save any suspense and just tell you that my new keys weren't there. In fact, they weren't anywhere and to this day have yet to show themselves. Panic: Phase II soon followed. Bags were rifled through, calls were made, steps were retraced. Nothing. I've never truly lost my keys, we were always close and on decent terms …so image my shock. I called my building manager (who does not live on-site ) and he promised keys the following Monday (I moved on a Saturday) and that he could have someone let me into the main doors but I'd have to keep everything unlocked until Monday …And Oo yes, each key (3 in total, including the mail key) would cost me almost $100. Great.
We started moving things in …A couple of sweaty hours later (and not in any sexy and/or refreshed way), I was in my new apartment. Oo, almost forgot, my new place is without AC and mid-move I busted a couple of blades off of my ceiling fan, rendering it useless (a Home Depot trip the next day would fix this problem) …But I was in. I thanked Danger Mike + he was off. Starving, Paul, Lisa + I were debating where to eat. We thought about Thai but then Lisa pointed out:
Lisa: "Wait, let's go to the Chinese place …They have wine."
Good point. Chinese it was …and due to the day's events one of the best meals I've ever had.
Within a few days time (and due to my nature) I was unpacked …And that's where the story should start. But …I should mention Panic: Phase III. The next night, intent on washing everything I own, I was running downstairs to the basement laundry room @ 2AM to switch a load of wash into the dryer …I heard the click of my apartment door behind me. Locked. No keys. I had had enough sense and forethought to slip my cellphone into my pocket …With trembling hands I dialed Dave and unfortunately woke him up. A trip from Dave and a locksmith later, I was back in my apartment by 330AM.
And to think there are screenwriters galore throughout L.A. and Tim Allen's wavering career, both of which could benefit from such a tale.
So that's that. Now you know and we're on the same page. Excuse me for a moment, I've forgotten my mantra.
Ah ok. And I'm back.
[Cut to present-day]
So there you have it. Sure, I'm a bit rusty …Not to mention I miss the days where I could smoke inside of a café. I actually forgot my gig stick and therefore my newest photos will have to wait. I've been snapping photos here + there …I have a whole new slew of photos to add to my "Amanda Jordyn Reading/Look @ her big hair over the cover" series. ("You buy too many books") …Plus, photos of my apartment + Alton.
Being sans internet I read alot or rather make half-ditch efforts to do so ...I'm in the midst of 10 books @ the moment (and growing), a lot of NPR listening, a lot of cassettes (yes, cassettes), seeing more friends on a more timely basis ...Not to mention attempts @ writing in an actual notebook and my continued jotting of notes throughout my day. I cook more often and every pay-day I treat myself to a trip to my favorite thrift store (hence my growing book collection).
I've missed writing ...I promise it'll get better.
Stuart Kills Bugs: A Love Story
[10AM, outside of my apartment's door, hallway ...I was running across the street for coffee before getting ready for work]
Me: [locking door]
Billy Preston Exterminator: [down the hallway, spray tank in hand] "I'm in love!"
Me: "Good morning!"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in love! I ...am ...in ....LOVE!"
Me: " ...Congrats! ...??"
BPE: "Yeah, but you haven't asked me with who?"
Me: " ...Who?"
BPE: [points @ me] "You!"
Me: "Aww"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in loooove! Mmm mmm mmm, damn!"
Me: [walking towards elevator] "I can't handle all this love before my coffee! Have a great day!"
BPE: "Ooo, I will now. My great day started the moment I saw you!"
Me: [elevator!]
[10 mins. later, returning w/ coffee in hand ...Meredith (front desk) and BPE, let me in)
BPE: "Look at her! I love that girl! But break my heart, she only got one cup of coffee!"
Meredith: [laughing/eye rolling]
_______________
By the way, my Billy Preston Exterminator's real name is [drumroll]: STUART!
Org. Post: Thursday, June 21, 2007
The World Is Full Of Quacks: I'm Moving
For those of you who don't know ...I'm moving. No, no not from Chicago ...A new apartment.
I fear the time has come for me to part ways with the address I've had for the past 5 yrs. That's right, the reigning (bum-appointed) "Princess of Granville," is stepping down.
For the past week or so I've been meaning to write a lovely, heartfelt and dare I say awe-inspiring (cue "Chariots of Fire") farewell piece ...Something to signify the end of this chapter in my life and the beginning of the next. I thought of when I first moved here ...My first shoebox studio ("You mean to tell me that the kitchen is in the wall!?") or when I moved up a few floors to my first 1 bedroom ("Wait, I have a kitchen!?"). The additions along the way (Lola had to move over for Primo who had to move over for Princess Milo ...And how unbeknownst to them they will all be moving over again for Alton Brown) ...The people, the sounds, the days when I could tell the time according to the streetlights, the smell of coffee wafting in from the coffee shop across the street. My corner store (Buying something for $7? "That will be seven hundred") , my Winnie (checkout lady @ the grocery), my CTA Don Juan, my Conchita @ the Currency Exchange, my Meredith @ the front desk (who turned pale and welled up with tears when I finally broke it to her I was leaving), my Billy Preston Exterminator aka Stuart (who broke up with me when he found out I was moving ...I think he was just hiding his pain), my Regina @ CVS ...All of the characters that played a role in my life for the past 5 yrs.
I wanted to write something to signify that this era is closing ...But then a duck came into my life and such cepia-washed memories were sent to the scrappings.
A duck?! What!?
Let me tell you a little something about "departure" letters ...I've never seen one but from what I gather they are generally (or rather allegedly) given to tenants who are moving out. I hear that they are three pages long and chock-full of useful information like: We're going to show your apartment to prospective renters, your apartment will be replastered before you move, you must vacate the premises by Noon on June 30th.
Since I never recieved such a letter, I was completely unaware of the above ...So please take a moment to imagine my shock when I found out that:
A. My apartment had been showed (or as it was put "Your cats showed very well")
B. My apartment has already been rented
C. That the "plaster guys" are coming to replaster tomorrow (I believe it went something like this: "You mean all of my stuff will be covered with plaster?" Reply? "Yes")
D. That I indeed must be moved out by Noon -next Saturday.
Needless to say I wasn't all that happy.
Earlier today, shortly before leaving for work, I opted to meet with the operations manager of my building and ask if we could possibly reschedule this replastering business closer to my actual move-out day. Surprisingly that was ok ...I then pressed about this supposed "departure" letter and somehow/someway the person who was in charge of sending me such notification was completely clueless that I was even moving out. Which I take as a safe assumption that I'm not going crazy (I rifled through every scrap of paper I have in an attempt to find such a letter ...I found nothing) and that I indeed never received such.
That's when my operations manager reached behind his desk and handed me a duck ...I'm serious. A yellow plush duck.
Operations Manager: "Here you can have the duck as an apology for the whole letter mix up"
Me: "Thanks?"
I then took said duck in the palm of my hand and exited the office with a puzzled look and my mouth slightly agape ...I stepped into the elevator towards my floor, the whole walking up the hallway is a bit of a blur but somehow I found myself sitting @ my desk, starring @ this duck ...And thinking: A duck, I live here for 5 yrs. and I get a duck. You come into my apartment without notifying me of your comings or goings with my cats, with my stuff ...You bring strangers into my apartment who probably were petting my cats and looking at my stuff ...You nonchalantly tell me that the "plasters guys" will be coming over regardless if I am home or not ...You tell me that I must be moved out of my apartment by Noon on the 30th -the very day that the woman who lives in my new apartment is moving out and that the only freight elevator time slot open is 8AM ...You go against a handful of renters' rights and then ...THEN ...You hand me a duck.
I honestly couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
So goodbye Granville, goodbye building ...I'm taking Mr. Quack and I'm leaving ...And if by chance the name of said building every comes up in conversation or I overhear someone wondering "Oo I was thinking of calling up [insert my building's name] for a showing," I will casually say: "Let me tell you about my duck ... "
Org. Post: Monday, July 30, 2007
Release Your Frown: Have You Seen Me Lately?
Greetings!
Gee, it's been awhile ...You look great! Did you lose some weight? Is that a new fedora?
Me? Oo, I'm good ...Doing a-ok. I'm a bit pressed for time but I thought I'd type a quick update. I'm such a lapsed-blogger. I fully intend on updating more often and more along the lines of my former entries ...But time, Oo time, I'm pressed.
Apartment? Love it!
My move? Please place finger to lips (sideways), move up and down.
Alton? (new cat) He's great ...Big webbed bunny feet and I think he's part platypus (I'm awaiting test results).
I hope to post photos soon. Ooo the stories I've collected over the past month.
Until then ...
Org. Post: Friday, August 31, 2007
A Soft Semi-Return
[Open with present-day]
I wrote the following, last night (Thursday) …In hopes of posting today @ a nearby coffee shop (Oo wireless, you had me @ free). So here I am @ that nearby coffee shop. There's a somewhat medieval sign next to my head that reads "Stone Soup," hmm …I'm not really sure what to think of that but then again such things are probably best without much thought. Which brings me to what I originally wrote, last night -Ha! Take that self! …I started out explaining my move, 2 mths ago …But now in the light of day, coffee coursing throughout my veins …I've decided to switch things up a bit and end with the torrid tale that has become known as my move. I figured this would work best for those who might find themselves thinking "I thought she was done telling this story …". So instead, I'll flip things around and start w/ the end and end with the beginning. Ready?
[Thursday night]
Well, lookie me -I'm on your screen! Hi. It's me, again. What's it been …2 mths? I came back as soon as I could. I apologize for such blatant tardiness.
I'm actually typing this late Thursday night -A few minutes shy of Friday. After I caught myself contemplating such things as just how many threads make up my kitchen rug and/or the process of water purification through osmosis (the diffusion of a solvent through a semipermeable membrane from a dilute to a more concentrated solution. Thanks Webster). Plus, I thought it best that I save my Dictionary of Mathematic Terms for a later (rainier) day …I thought I'd check out if MS Word still holds that certain kind of charm that used to amuse me so.
Ah, the begrudgingly tedious chore that is updating …Take no offense, it's not you …I've been living with such an update looming about my brain for 2 mths now …Where to begin. Those of you who have been in contact with me over the past couple of months (which I affectionately refer to as "shit storm" or the appended "It was the worst of times …It was the best of times …For optimism's sake, the latter) feel free to take a trip down memory lane with me …For those who I've lost contact with along the way, you look taller, you look thinner -Oo who am I kidding, you're fabulous and I hope you enjoy. (Did I mention it's almost Midnight?)
[Cut to the original end]
Things have been good. Busy, hectic, a downplay of stress but good nonetheless. I'm in love with my apartment and if it wasn't for all the black + blue, I'd still be pinching myself every morning since my move @ the thought that this is actually my apartment. I get to wake up here everyday …It's the apartment I wished I had moved into 5 yrs ago but that I can in turn can now appreciate to the fullest having lived elsewhere.
Aside from the various new sights, sounds and surroundings in my life …There's also been a new addition to my feline population. A week after my move, Alton Brown (the cat) came home …With his alien-good looks, bunny-sized feet and complete lack of coordination …Alton has become one of the brood and has aided in my ongoing fear of becoming a cat lady …You know the type. Trust me, I'm fighting it tooth and nail …Alton's the limit, my cut off point. I like him, he's sort of in love with me -It works. In my defense, with Lola's anti-social personality, I really only have three cats. Then again, with Primo's incessant need for attention and validation, he's like having 2 cats …So maybe I really have 5 cats -Crap.
I made full-time @ work, finally and now with my commute literally 1 minute away and the added bonus of having lunch @ home …It's working out alright. Though what job is without an amount of stress? No really, I'm asking …A mime, perhaps? That person who turns the crank @ a bingo parlor? Vanna White? (Yes, I'm reaching).
I'll be copy/pasting this later on this morning/afternoon from a nearby coffee shop that offers free wireless …Much like the local library but with coffee. You see my point? (Coffee).
My birthday is this Saturday ..In turn, my Father surprised me with a laptop. It really was a surprise given that my Father and I speak 3x a year and we haven't seen each other in 2. I'm beyond thankful and this document has been keeping me company as I upload my complete iTunes library off of my back-up cds …Tedious, yes.
This will be my first actual saved document on my yet unnamed laptop (Actually, I think I inadvertently named it Amanda Jordyn's Computer …Ah, the vanity).
In a few months time I'm hoping to have internet within my apartment …So until then, I'll be hopping on the caffeinated free wireless bandwagon …A craze that has fortunately hit my neighborhood full fledged.
I'm on back-up disc 28 out 30 and I only backed up to the T section …Which means the rest I'll have to pull off of my old computer (which is another story within itself) with my gig stick …Yes, gig stick. Try saying that casually.
Maybe I'll stop after 28, tonight …And reread this with coffee @ hand, come morning …And completely throw it to scrap and rewrite something more up-tempo and full of pep.
[Cut to the original beginning]
My move …The best way to describe my move on July 1st would be if you placed your finger to your lips (go ahead) and in a fast-paced motion moved said finger up + down. Nuts. Then again, does moving spare anyone? A quick rundown (because Lord knows I've had to tell this story countless of times) …My dear friends Lisa + Paul enlisted themselves to help me move (In my defense, I had helped them with their own move back in April) …I spent the eve of my move sorting through nearly 5 yrs of life, pulling a one nighter as I slowly debated the perks of stealing a shopping cart and wandering aimlessly throughout the downtown area, asking strangers if they know the alternative name for a one humped camel? (Answer: dromedary …you're welcome). Morning soon arrived, Lisa + I met up @ the train stop and later a bus towards the UHAUL garage …Patting one another on the back as we sipped our coffee, so on top of things …Sun streaming across our beaming faces, time on our side (this is the good part of the story, let me enjoy it). We picked up our UHAUL, which we affectionately christened "Peppy" and we were on our way. We stoped by my new apartment, met up with the former tenant as she bid her own farewell, picked up my new set of keys and then stopped off to pick up Lisa's husband Paul …Soon we were @ my old apartment ("Ground Zero," if you will) …I ran upstairs (by way of elevator) and started sorting just how to go about all of this. A handful of minutes later, Lisa came walking up the hallway …Face reddening, eyes slightly glassy:
Me: "What's wrong, sweet pea?"
Lisa: "The ..truck won't start"
Me: "Oh! Well that's ok!"
(Later on, Lisa would admit to me that she wasn't sure I heard her correctly seeing as I took such news a bit too well. The truth is, it was within that moment that I "went away" and pure adrenaline is to blame for the rest of the day …I just kept thinking "Hey, it's not rainy! Do you know the alternative name for a one humped camel?").
My former building ("The building of which we will not speak of …ever …again) works on an elevator-time rental and my minutes were ticking away. I continued to pack, while Lisa haggled with the UHAUL customer service. They couldn't rent us a new truck so instead they got the brainiac scheme to pack the broken down "Peppy" and then they'd had a tow truck to tow it to my new apartment. Tick-tock, we were growing desperate. Even more so by the group of maintence men that were lined up outside of my (opened) apartment door, awaiting my vacation to start revamping the place. There was the carpet guy, who had himself a seat across the hall …Watching me furiously running about, throwing things into boxes, into bags ..sipping his coffee and offering priceless advice, such as:
Carpet Guy: "You should have moved the cats first …"
Me: "I'm a vet assistant, sir"
Carpet Guy: "Is that so?
Me: "That is so …sir"
A slew of hijinks ensued:
-Did I mention that my building manager wanted me out by Noon? I had the elevator from 10AM-Noon. Though by law I until Midnight to move out. The law meant very little to these people and I was determined to get out. The UHAUL breakdown threw a wrench into our plans and well, that meant very little to these people too. (Again, I'm refering to the guy who gave me that stuffed duck …Remember that? Yeah, that kooky guy. A real chuckle.
-Duck-Man found his way in the midst of my nightmare and said:
Duck-Man: "Amanda, your elevator time is almost up and well …those stairs are going to be hard."
Me: "Ah yea, I'm getting out."
-At one point the building stopped the elevator with Paul still in it …To which Lisa had to rundown to the front desk and demand they turn it back on.
-Every time I left my place to move things down to the truck, I was convinced that the maintence vultures outside of my door were going to go in. My three cats were still in the apartment -horrified.
-Danger Mike finally showed up and proved to be not only a bonus vehicle and some much needed comic relief but an overall kick in the rear that we all needed.
Hours later, we finally cleared out my apartment …I stopped by Duck-Man's office to drop off my old set of keys and sign out my lease. I stepped into his office and immediately noticed something quite familiar. I sat down across from his desk in a chair that my ex and I had thrown out well over a year ago. Lovely. I gave him the keys and signed my name on the dotted line.
Duck-Man: "Amanda, see that jar of candy over there …on the bookshelf? That's for you! (complete with pointing @ me).
I was a bit numb @ this point so I grabbed the candy and walked out of a building I had lived in for nearly 5 yrs., my first in Chicago. Needless to say, I wasn't in much of a sentimental mood.
Paul + Danger Mike awaited the tow truck to show up. Lisa + I packed up my cats a few odds n ends that would fit in her hatchback and headed off to my new place. We park out front and start getting things around. Lola was near comatose. She really had me worried …She was actually handable which immediately gave cause for alarm. Pupils dilated, drooling on herself and refusing to unfold from a somewhat fetal position. Primo was ok, panting but ok. Princess Milo didn't really realized we moved until @ least the beginning of August.
I reached into my bag and felt for my keys. I'll save any suspense and just tell you that my new keys weren't there. In fact, they weren't anywhere and to this day have yet to show themselves. Panic: Phase II soon followed. Bags were rifled through, calls were made, steps were retraced. Nothing. I've never truly lost my keys, we were always close and on decent terms …so image my shock. I called my building manager (who does not live on-site ) and he promised keys the following Monday (I moved on a Saturday) and that he could have someone let me into the main doors but I'd have to keep everything unlocked until Monday …And Oo yes, each key (3 in total, including the mail key) would cost me almost $100. Great.
We started moving things in …A couple of sweaty hours later (and not in any sexy and/or refreshed way), I was in my new apartment. Oo, almost forgot, my new place is without AC and mid-move I busted a couple of blades off of my ceiling fan, rendering it useless (a Home Depot trip the next day would fix this problem) …But I was in. I thanked Danger Mike + he was off. Starving, Paul, Lisa + I were debating where to eat. We thought about Thai but then Lisa pointed out:
Lisa: "Wait, let's go to the Chinese place …They have wine."
Good point. Chinese it was …and due to the day's events one of the best meals I've ever had.
Within a few days time (and due to my nature) I was unpacked …And that's where the story should start. But …I should mention Panic: Phase III. The next night, intent on washing everything I own, I was running downstairs to the basement laundry room @ 2AM to switch a load of wash into the dryer …I heard the click of my apartment door behind me. Locked. No keys. I had had enough sense and forethought to slip my cellphone into my pocket …With trembling hands I dialed Dave and unfortunately woke him up. A trip from Dave and a locksmith later, I was back in my apartment by 330AM.
And to think there are screenwriters galore throughout L.A. and Tim Allen's wavering career, both of which could benefit from such a tale.
So that's that. Now you know and we're on the same page. Excuse me for a moment, I've forgotten my mantra.
Ah ok. And I'm back.
[Cut to present-day]
So there you have it. Sure, I'm a bit rusty …Not to mention I miss the days where I could smoke inside of a café. I actually forgot my gig stick and therefore my newest photos will have to wait. I've been snapping photos here + there …I have a whole new slew of photos to add to my "Amanda Jordyn Reading/Look @ her big hair over the cover" series. ("You buy too many books") …Plus, photos of my apartment + Alton.
Being sans internet I read alot or rather make half-ditch efforts to do so ...I'm in the midst of 10 books @ the moment (and growing), a lot of NPR listening, a lot of cassettes (yes, cassettes), seeing more friends on a more timely basis ...Not to mention attempts @ writing in an actual notebook and my continued jotting of notes throughout my day. I cook more often and every pay-day I treat myself to a trip to my favorite thrift store (hence my growing book collection).
I've missed writing ...I promise it'll get better.
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