Today while I was working out, Death Cab's "The New Year" came on just as I glanced at the person next to me, who was staring so intently at the magazine she was reading I can't imagine she was getting much out of her efforts on the elliptical trainer. Then I noticed that
Ben Gibbard was staring at me from the page in question, which happened to be the issue of Wired in which he was
interviewed about mp3 blogs. I was thinking about how that was a mildly interesting coincidence when the woman calmly ripped the page from the magazine, which, I might add, is the property of the YMCA, slipped it among the pages of her newspaper, and carried on reading and distractedly elliptical training.
I couldn't decide whether to point out how irritating it is to read magazines from which people have stolen pages or strike up a conversation about indie rock.
V. 3.0h I have no idea
Wednesday, November 23
Since I couldn't come up with anything worthwhile to say, I redesigned. I was never entirely happy with the previous incarnation, and this one will probably keep me satisfied for another couple years. As usual, writing HTML both fills me with love and causes me to hurl many profanities at my screen as I search through lines and lines of code for the one missing bracket or slash or quotation mark that is somehow effing up EVERYTHING ELSE. Anyway, now it's done. Unfortunately, my laundry, as usual, is not.
The soul of a geologist
Monday, November 21
Me: "Aw, it's Mount St. Helens' little lava dome."
Shan: "I like it that you just said "Aww" about a steaming volcano."
Strangely irresistible
Wednesday, November 9
Clearly I did something right yesterday, because within the space of five hours, I was complimented on my smile, my laugh, my necklace and my peacoat. Every day should be like that.
Ugh
Friday, November 4
This is a day on which I should never have gotten out of bed.
Just a little faster now
Tuesday, November 1
I'm about to start my 41st hour of a 60-hour work week. My dirty clothes are staging a jailbreak from the laundry basket and I'm losing the battle against my dishes. A small mountain of newspapers is piling up next to my front door. Should I make it to Thursday, I will be watching my pal Dave and the rest of
The Village Green rock Seattle's socks off, or at least mine, and I plan to consume some beer to make up for the complete absence of Halloween-related revelry in my life. This weekend I hope to get myself a new dresser so that, six months after moving here, I can finally finish unpacking my junk. I have presents to buy for some top-notch people I know who are doing big life things like having babies and buying houses in New Mexico. I have scarves to knit and a precarious pile of books and magazines to read, a bunch of stuff to take to Goodwill, many lists from which to cross things off and not nearly enough hours in the day. Would someone please add more hours to my day? Thank you.
