Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Merry Maryland

     This is my favorite part of the work day. Each morning, after I've trekked to the kitchen, made the coffee and trekked back, I sit down at my desk. Here I take the time to prepare my coffee, nibble a blueberry BelVita bar, (to eat is human, to BelVita is divine) and make my to do list. It's usually very quiet, my boss in the studio and the TV on the daily 8:30 mass. It's a peaceful time.
A friend recently posted about to-do lists and I must say, they are quite nice. I used to think that if you couldn't get everything done on your to-do list, you weren't really capable of them. I have learned how untrue that is. Someone told me, I think possibly Aunt Lisa? that there will always be things that get bumped down the list to the next day. That's just the hierarchy of the list. 

     On a more energetic, less technical side note: We went to Maryland this weekend! (We being Andrew and I.) What a whirlwind blast off blur of a trip. We left very early Thursday morning, driven to the airport by a very loving brother who I still owe coffee. We ate a crummy twenty dollar breakfast and boarded. Poor Andrew, with his long legs and long feet. We were on such a tiny plane, and the hour to Atlanta seemed to take at least twice that. (Fact: I have a go-to sleeping position on airplanes. I pull my knees up onto the seat with my feet flat on the cushion, I fold my arms over my knees and lay my head down in my arms. Sort of like a vertical fetal position. I must say I was grateful for it, watching Andrew turn his legs at a 45 degree angle to fit in the row.)
     At the Atlanta airport, we saw the actors who play Mr. Brown and Cora, two characters from Madea. Here they are on the left and right:


     When we arrived in Maryland, Ben, Andy's best college bud, picked us up. Here are some of the things that ensued over the next few days.
     Thursday night we went to a party and I slept. Right there on the couch, slept. I was so exhausted from going to bed at 2 and waking up at 5 that I didn't give a dern. I did taste a peanut butter chocolate beer called Sweet Baby Jesus before I dozed off, and mama was it good. 
     We went to a concert in D.C. I loved D.C. With all of it's tall apartments, all painted a different stripe of color with iron steps leading up to someones sliver of living space. Once while we were driving I looked down a street to my left and saw the Capitol hovering over all the little apartments on the horizon line. 
     Saturday was spent in Baltimore. We went to the Harbor and were very disappointed to find a sold out aquarium. So we walked to the top of some huge famous hill. Guys, this was a HILL. I was sweating by the time we reached the top. It had the most incredible view, people walking dogs, children swinging on a playground, brave souls doing sprints up the hill, people getting married in Spanish, and a peculiar pitbull that would allow his owner to walk him about halfway down the steep hill only to pull the man with all of his might back to the top. Here's a picture of the view, and a brief paragraph on the interesting history that Tour Guide Ben gave us.

On the night of May 12, following the Baltimore riot of 1861, the hill was occupied in the middle of the night by a thousand Union troops and a battery under the command of General Benjamin F. Butler, who had entered the city, under cover of darkness and during a thunderstorm, from Annapolis via the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad.[5] During the night, Butler and his men erected a small fort, with cannon pointing towards the central business district. Their goal was to guarantee the allegiance of the city and the state of Maryland to the Federal Government under threat of force. This fort and the Union occupation persisted for the duration of the Civil War

     Then we met Ben's parents in Greek Town, a suburb of Baltimore like China Town is to New York. They were so awesome. Ben is a biggin, standing at 6"7. His father is about 6"4, and his mother about 6"2. She is full Greek, went to Greek school, speaks Greek, and agreed that "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" was completely accurate and very similar to how she grew up. The restaurant was a place they had been coming since she was a little girl. Ikaros, the restaurant, was named after the island her grandfather was born on, and so they were not allowed to eat anywhere else growing up. When we enter his parents are waiting, I instantly spot them by their height and beaming faces. A man at the door in a billowy shirt with rolled up sleeves recognizes Ben. They shake hands and the man smiles with crinkly Santa eyes. He has a thick Greek accent and a bushy grey mustache that curls on the ends and has a small V parted right at the center of his top lip. 
The food was incredible. The fish still had heads on them. Mrs. Mary read the Greek words on the menu and explained them. His parents talked nonstop with us about Breaking Bad and Walking Dead. When we all left to say goodbye, they hugged and kissed us, his mom giving me an extra tight squeeze and a whisper in my ear, "Find Ben a nice girl!" I leave happy, full, and agreeing with a statement my family made a year ago: Greek is the cousin of Cajun. 
     That night we went to Andy's friend's house. Their whole college gang gathered there. They are such a fun bunch, always laughing, cracking jokes, playing good music and getting way too competitive at games they've played since freshman year. Uniquely enough, these guys and girls have stayed best friends since the very start of college, some from the very first day at orientation, and they are a blast to be around.
     It was sad to leave. The four day weekend seemed to last only a minute. Eventually we landed in B.R. late sunday night, and once a again, a loving, coffee deserving brother picked us up. The weekend ended with the three of us watching the Breaking Bad episode we had all missed. It was a happy, happy weekend. 

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

It takes time.

“When I was younger, I saw 20-somethings sitting at coffee shops and thought they must be so happy now that they’re older and have their lives together. Now I’m the 20-something and I see that life doesn’t slow down and fall into place just because you’re old enough. Being older just means that you have to make time to stop and enjoy that coffee.”

Monday, August 12, 2013

Preach Brother

Ashton Kutcher tells it like it is

Happy Monday

The 4:30 alarm is skipped over as a clumsy finger slides across the snooze button.
Three hours later, I rise, like one of the Living Dead.
My body rocks to and fro like a ship tossed on choppy seas as I wander into the bathroom.
My hands are a hundred pounds, my legs a thousand.
In the mirror, my eyes open only enough to focus on a small part of my face. That's the place that gets make up today.
Thirty minutes later I stumble out of the house in bare feet, banking that there are shoes in the car.
Half way down College Drive my eyes finally open all the way to get a full look at a five car pile up.
Is it my fault? How did I get here from Essen Lane? Who's car is this?!
I see a guilt ridden twenty year old crying as she's written a ticket for the fender bender.
Whew, not my fault.
Finally I arrive at work, my body still heavy with sleep.
And there it is, that dark life elixer that permeates the whole office.
The sound of it trickling into a black coffee cup is enough to open my eyes to their full capacity.
I sit in my chair, pour in the thick cream that forms ribbons in my cup until it is mixed into a cloud of tawny.
Just one small sip brings life to my body
And I wish you all, a happy Monday.

Friday, July 26, 2013

Things from today

There is a crazy man in the elevator closet. At least that's what he called it. I call it the closet in my office that makes strange noises and plays home to a giant metal mechanism. The crazy man is some sort of cable guy. Not like television, actual cables. All day long he strings hundreds of feet of blue and red and green covered wires throughout the building. He's always got them looped in one hand, tugging in a rythme at one cord as he walks backwards and lets it across the ground. He looks something like a cowboy in khakis. He has bad posture, wears his clothes too big like a child would, likes ULL football better than LSU, and thinks the director of the tech department sounds like this guy:      
He's not the clinical kind of crazy, more so the consipiracy theory kind. He talks to me from the elevator closet, and I don't understand a word he says. Each word is low and grumbles and the end of one runs right over the beginning of another, so that I have to wait for the very end of his sentece to put it all together. Often times I just give him an "I hear ya," in agreement.

The TV in the office plays an old black and white movie with fuzzy lighting, and a woman wearing a black dress is smashing a man's head in a piano lid.

I just remembered that at 10:00 last night, I woke up, went downstairs to turn off my crock pot, and ended up cracking open my leftovers from dinner and shoveling as many bites of shrimp primavera as I could in my mouth before going to bed. Where did that come from?

Why are chips in the lips of coffee cups so charming?
I never get upset if I see a cup has chipped or cracked somehow, in fact, I'm almost pleased. Why is that?

In an hour I have lunch with Mom and Garrett, and am looking forward to it SO much. My boss has been out of town all week, and while I enjoy the freedom of blogging during work, it has been an incredibly boring 5 days.

And this isn't a happening of today, but I dyed my hair a lighter blonde. So far, I love it!

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Jim Gaffigan - Beyond the Pale

Some Jim Gaffigan for your Thursday afternoon

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

What the outrage over race should really be.

http://www.foxnews.com/on-air/oreilly/2013/07/23/bill-oreilly-president-obama-and-race-problem

This article says it all. The race issue has exploded over the last month as the verdict in the Treyvon Martin case was released. What the article focuses on is the condition of the African American community. Bill O'Reilly speaks on the outrage that has erupted over this case because of the involvement of a "white" Hispanic. Yet nothing is being said of the black on black crime that happens every day. His biggest point: right now the African American culture is it's own worst enemy. This has nothing to do with slavery, this has nothing to do with oppression. This has to do with hard facts and numbers that show the degradation the society is doing to itself-and that addressing it is not racism. It has to do with the lifestyle that pop culture promotes and the toll it takes on the young African Americans who deserve more. It is not that they ought to be alone in their fight to resurrect the downward path this culture is taking; it is that it must first start within the culture itself. 

Monday, July 22, 2013

I used to write on legal pads.

It's been odd switching from retail hours to a 9-5 job.
I remember the days of hating, HATING that I worked Friday-Sunday. Even now, when I drive past  a busy car dealership, sit in a restaurant, buy a new top, I sigh a sigh of relief that I am not working in a world that requires clocking in on weekends.

However, I haven't adjusted to not having week days off. Not that I really need a break in the middle of the week due to workload. It was more the quiet pace of being off in the week. Very few were at home, and I had all day to wake up, make breakfast when I liked, grocery shop, (slowly) and begin cooking around 4:30 or 5. It was heaven. To think, I used to actually ENJOY grocery shopping. I would spend a few hours in a coffee shop, writing or drawing, and then make my way down to the store when I was good and ready. I remember enjoying the feeling of standing in line behind a lady with a full cart, and not feeling an aggravated sense of urgency. I try to live this way now, but feel that one occurrence is completely dependent on the start and stop time of the next.
What it comes down to is that creativity takes practice, and I'm not practicing very well. Something is always more important. And what then, if you have more than one hobby? Perhaps it would help to assign each week of the month to a specific one.
Should passions be so structured? Probably not. Then again, "It takes time to extract joy from life."

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Now that's family entertainment.



Why can't they make comedy like this anymore. I have loved this show for years. Bill Cosby's standard for clean humor and family unity was the fuel behind this great show. In scene's like this you can feel the closeness of the cast, and I absolutely love it.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Perspective on the Trevyon Martin case protests.




One man's eye opening take on the protests after Zimmerman's verdict. Some explicit language.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Cosby

A little Claire Huxtable for your Tuesday, friends.


The Secret



Twenty something year olds are all searching for a secret. Like there is a great hidden answer somewhere in the world that will fulfill this constant feeling of needing something, needing more.

And they go EVERYWHERE to find it. The Grand Canyon, Africa, and really, just a cool beat up car and pair of mint colored ray bans on a drive up the East coast with do.
I wonder if this constant searching is due to a lack of true human connection.
I wonder if people invested, I mean REALLY invested, in the community around them, would they still need to search?

Friday, July 12, 2013

My Brightest Diamond


If you recognize this, it was on Sarah's blog a year or two ago. Today I went there in hopes that there would be something new (*ahem*) and rediscovered it. I love her voice, her words. I can't imagine this feeling. They say you think you know love until you have children, I think here you can fully see it.

Happy Friday to you all.





Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Tootsie

Dennis Hoffman explains something that sadly women already get. Pretty incredible to witness a man feel the same full effect, and to feel his guilt.

http://www.upworthy.com/dustin-hoffman-breaks-down-crying-explaining-something-that-every-woman-sadly-already-experienced-3?c=gt1

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Since when was I an adult?

There is not enough time in a day.
However, there are plenty enough to-do lists.
When did it happen? This to-do list outplaying the time?
Sure, it happened in college. But there it made you special, the busy scholar.
Here, in this new reality that has existed for ages, it only makes you an adult.
I can think of nothing but a continuous can of unopened green paint.
Or the caulking gun.
The heaping pile of dirty linens
and the unpurchased washing machine.
The dishwasher that emits the smell of smoke when it runs,
I should probably look into it.
I'll put it on the to-do list.
There is an untapped wealth of creative concepts.
It takes time to be artsy.
It takes time to write blog posts, and my lunch break is over.