Saturday, August 2
Thursday, July 31
Can't help myself
Everyone else is sleeping. Because that is what normal people do after driving for 16 hours. I, however, thought I should just quickly check my e-mail and such. Oh, and maybe blog. Yes, this is the first official blog from Ohio. In great Ohio tradition, it is humid here ... wait, now there's a thunderstorm. Ahh, just like I remember it.
The best part of the drive here was listening to the mixes I made for the journey. You may not recognize the inherent difficulty in trying to find music that is pleasing not only to myself, but to my mother and sister as well, but I assure you, it is no easy feat. I felt like John Cusack in High Fidelity. The discs went over pretty well, but Dawn's response to Bob Dylan was "And what do you call this?" (Note to self: Not everyone gets Bob.)
Other drive highlights: Hitting "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose," as we passed under the spans of the Hamilton Fish bridge in New York. I don't know what it was about that moment, but it just felt right. Realizing that all three of us were singing along to Barbra Streisand at midnight. Laughing about previous family journeys as we all got punchy late in the drive. And seeing a bumper sticker that read, "It ain't over 'til your brother counts the votes."
posted @ 2:53 AM |
Disconnected
I've been worrying for the last week or so about my upcoming vacation. Sure, I'm just going to Ohio for two weeks to hang with the fam, see the butter cow, and maybe catch a Reds or Rockers game, but what does this mean for my blog? Will I be able to blog? Should I blog? What will I be missing on the Redhead? Will TQ go Vic Ferrari? Will Stone still be obsessed with the blogosphere? How can I be disconnected for so long?
The questions persist and I leave tomorrow. Stay tuned, gentle readers, for the next chapter of my life on the blog.
posted @ 2:18 PM |
For the record
When digging through my e-mail archives this morning, I found this gem of Jen-wisdom, on what I seek in someone I'm dating:They don't necessarily have to be settled, just have their general shit together. You know, not living with their parents, have a steady job somewhat related to what they want to do with their lives, and NOT getting in touch with their inner selves. I want to date people who know enough to leave their inner selves ALONE.
Now, that's what I said two years ago ... and it still holds true.
posted @ 8:30 AM |
Wednesday, July 30
We were on a break
Should I bring my iBook with me on vacation? We haven't been apart for more than a day or two since we met. The thought of spending two weeks without my baby is a little daunting. Who will I turn to late at night? Who will support me when I need to explore? Who will laugh at me when I'm being ridiculous? (On a side note, if you don't have the mocking laugh as an alert noise, you are missing out.)
On the other hand, perhaps a little distance would be good for us. Some time apart to to give the relationship a little breathing room. But without my baby, will I turn to another for what I need?
posted @ 11:00 AM |
Tuesday, July 29
Separate is not equal
I'm all for the gay youth of America feeling safe, but I don't think the way to do that is to create the first public gay high school in New York. By separating "gay" (homosexual, bisexual, transgendered, and "other") students from "straight" students, you create even more of rift and reinforce the notion that there is a need for such division. I can't believe this is backed by a gay rights' group. I know high school is particularly difficult for gay teens, but this cannot be the answer.
posted @ 9:24 AM |
Tuesday's gone
I wanted to close my eyes on the world. Like everyone else on this train, attempting sleep, feigning disinterest, reading the paper, scribbling notes, I leaned my head back and pretended not to see. I didn't see the old man with long, gray hair and scabs on his legs like a boy. Or the young man, much too well-pressed for this part of town, much too innocently dressed in his navy pants and creased shirt and straight nose. Or the woman next to me, attacking her notes desperately, ignoring the attempts to draw her into conversation by a too-friendly man. Like everyone else riding the Orange line to Forest Hills at midnight, I wanted to close my eyes on the world.
posted @ 8:15 AM |
Monday, July 28
Utter conviction
Continuing in my quest to understand Audioslave lyrics, I found myself belting one out this morning on the way to work. I didn't understand what "I am not your rolling wheels/I am the highway" means, but I was convinced it was Very Important and Very True, and I needed to sing it Very Loudly.
posted @ 9:31 AM |
Sunday, July 27
The infinite appeal of honesty
Sure, honesty can be ugly, scary, and decidedly distasteful, but you know it's honest. I find it infinitely more appealing than the alternatives. At least, that's the conclusion I've come to after watching Roger Dodger. Campbell Scott (how I love thee, let me count the ways) puts in a great performance as the titular Roger who can talk his way out of (or in to) anything. He attempts to teach his 16-year-old nephew the art of seduction (or at least, how to get laid), and it's sometimes hilarious, sometimes pathetic, and frequently sad. But it seems, at least to this female, honest. The dialogue is some of the best I've heard in years. I can't believe I missed this at the theaters.
posted @ 5:06 PM |
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