All Things Ordinary

2006-10-25T14:19:00.000-04:00

Everyone needs to go on over to www.yelp.com --it's pretty damned awesome.

Also, I promise to update more soon. Topics included will be:

1) Assholery in all shapes and sizes
2) San Francisco
3) Weird myspace message

2006-08-25T21:35:00.000-04:00

This hasn't been updated in some time and it's time for a fresh start.

Go on over to chasingordinary.blogspot.com for updates on my life from here on out.

I promise to try and maintain the blog this time.

Really.

I may hate doing it...

2006-03-27T15:52:00.000-05:00

but seriously? Science fucking amazes me.

Excitement is...

2006-03-16T16:56:00.000-05:00

Getting a Powder Alert email for Stowe right after you buy a lift ticket for Saturday.

Super. Psyched.

Will Wonders Never Cease?

2006-03-13T11:38:00.000-05:00

Wachussett Mountain is a hill so far removed from society that on the drive there one is greeted with ironic road signs such as, “Famous Ducks” and “Thickly Settled”. It is also not a place anyone should venture to for any sort of Spring snowboarding conditions.

The snow was not so much snow but slush mixed with dirt and ice. Oh yes, and it was raining. This, of course, made for miserable riding condition for those fool enough to get on the mountain.

Of course, I, along with roommate, was fool enough to get on the mountain. But you know what? I’m glad I did because for the first time, I made my way through a run without falling. Not only without falling - without almost falling, without riding switch to avoid a toe-side turn, and without toe-side turn splatting flat on my ass.

I am officially a mediocre snowboarder on the fast track to becoming decent; hell, someday I may even be good. Now my only problem is figuring out how I can spend ever last waking moment of winter on a mountain in Vermont or New Hampshire.

Sick, Sad Thing

2006-03-08T14:31:00.000-05:00

I find myself bopping along to Shakira's new single, "Hips Don't Lie" whenever it comes on.

because i was tagged.

2006-02-09T15:36:00.000-05:00

Four Jobs I have Had
1. The World’s Worst Secretary at the BU Physics Office.
2. Lifeguard.
3. ESL Instructor.
4. Ice Cream Server. By far the best job ever.

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over (and have)
1. Center Stage. “whatever you feel, just dance it.”
2. Gone with the Wind. Because Scarlett O’Hara taught me how to bring drama to the next level.
3. Hamlet. The one with Kenneth Brannagh.
4. Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealers. No explanation necessary.

Four Places I Have Lived
1. Kingston, New York.
2. Boston, Mass.
3. New Paltz, New York.
4. Dublin, Ireland. Alas, only for a semester.

Four TV Shows I Love (or have loved)
1. The Office. Both British and American.
2. Coupling. Just British.
3. Gilmore Girls.
4. Undeclared. Judd Apatow is the funniest man alive.

Four Places I Have Vacationed
1. Spain
2. Morocco
3. Canary Islands
4. Bermuda

Four of My Favorite Dishes
1. Drunken Noodle with Tofu from The Thai Place.
2. McDonalds Chicken Nuggets with Sweet & Sour Sauce.
3. Sandwiches.
4. Potatoes. Any kind of potatoes.

Four Sites I Visit Daily (other than email, news, work, etc.)
1. Gawker.
2. kayak.com
3. Livejournal
4. craigslist

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now
1. Snowboarding.
2. Sleeping.
3. Dublin.
4. London.

Four People I am Tagging
….I’m not.

Making a Mountain Out of a Molehill

2006-01-30T17:30:00.000-05:00

It is 8:45 on Saturday morning and Kelly Clarkson’s belting it out from my cell phone. I’m not down for getting up, but begrudgingly do it anyway. 20 minutes later, Fel and I are out the door and strapping in on the side of the bunny hill (thanks to the awesome slopeside accommodations).

We’re awake!
We’re invigorated!
We’re…falling?

Apparently all the fresh air in the world can’t help you toe turn.

This is where Skyler comes in. Skyler is our 4th (FOURTH) teenaged snowboarding instructor. He is 19, into baseball, and his stance is Goofy, just like me. (Finally. All the others have been Regular, the unoriginal bastards.) As a result of Skyler’s Goofy footedness I excel quicker in this lesson than I have in others, finally linking turns and stopping with my toes and my heels vs. my ass. (That’s not to say I didn’t fall – I DEFINITELY took some diggers – but they were fewer and further between.)

This was the lesson where I finally GOT it. The lesson where it seems to have finally clicked. I’m more comfortable on my board now.

I can stop.
I can turn.
I can hop on my board.

I can make it down without falling. Glorious!!!

….now, who wants to go snowboarding with me on a real trail?

We called the Crusades the Dark Ages for a reason

2006-01-23T22:40:00.000-05:00

I think I'm going to be sick.

P.S. George, you're the President first, a Christian second; and my body cannot be part of your religious agenda.

Let it rain, rain down

2006-01-18T20:54:00.000-05:00

When I was working in New York City I used to have to take the shuttle between Grand Central Station and Times Square. On rainy days there would be a woman with an acoustic guitar selling her wares through, what else, song. She would belt out her song in a shockingly gorgeous voice and her pimp aka "Chocolate Star" would sell CDs burned on what I can only assume was a laptop.

I missed Chocolate Star and his woman with the acoustic today for two reasons: one, I miss knowing the weather in the city before I ever surface from trains and subways. Two, it would have meant that I was on a subway that did it's job and got me to my stop without making me WALK from Fenway to St. Mary's today.

This walk on a typical day is not bad at all. Nay, it is downright pleasant. Today however, in the near hurricane that was gripping Boston, it was hellish. I was soaked well and through by the time I got close to the stairs at Fenway; I could set up a tiny swimming pool in my shoes by the time I reached St. Mary's. My hair, jeans, shoes, jacket - all soaked.

I looked worse than Mojito after a bath. It's a good thing my own personal Hot or Not judges weren't around; with their jackass, fuck-all rating system surely my score would have gone down... and my predisposition for a negative body image would have significantly increased.

Just so we're clear, raters: Women are sensitive about their looks. I don't care who the hell they are, what they look like, and what they say when you give them their NUMBER (no matter how high or low) - we all care. We care because society is so fucking focused on how put together, pretty, and skinny our gender is we can't help it.

Clearly, you know nothing about women.

You know even less about the people you call your friends. Have fun being ridiculously smug cunts together.

...for even the most discerning music snob

2006-01-13T11:19:00.000-05:00

go here: www.pandora.com.

We're not gonna pay rent...

2005-11-23T14:34:00.000-05:00

I'm seeing Rent in 20 minutes. I do not have high hopes.

...review to come.

"It's like someone is doing the 'Maniac, Maniac on the Floor' dance on your chest."

2005-11-14T23:06:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, you get disappointed when you find out that your crush has a girlfriend.

...and then there are the times when you find out that the crush who had a girlfriend is now single and living in the middle of the country, blissfully unattached. These are the times when you contemplate telling said crush the truth about that time you almost kissed in the rain outside your car but don't because really, what would it do except either embarass or frustrate you to the point of bursting shards of shrapnel from your broken heart into your gut?

Please excuse me, I'm going to listen to some Dashboard Confessional and cry myself to sleep.

Creation, Vacation, Mucho Masturbation

2005-11-14T21:45:00.000-05:00

The topic of dessert conversation tonight: masturbation.

More specifically, where and how often does everyone do it? Tonight I learned that the shower is a popular area for men, those horny horny bastards, because it is also something that is done daily and it has a minimal embarassment rate (i.e. being walked in on). This, to me, seems a logical place to get yourself off. In fact most guys living with family and/or friends with a tendency to barge in unannounced will utilize the shower as a time to do it... or they do it out of sheer laziness. It's warm, wet, and you're already naked - may as well whack off while you're at it.

Guys, don't feel alone here. Plenty of girls get off in the shower too. As a matter of fact, if you walk into a girl's bathroom and see that they have one of those fancy shower heads that can easily maneuver you can just as well bet your bottom dollar that they're getting off with pulsating jets of water. True story. It's just too easy and convenient (sometimes, we're lazy too).

Now, my question to a friend with siblings as to where and how he relieves himself led to a reciprocation of said question. It was only fair I answer with the truth: I don't habitually do it because, when I get the yearn, I have generally been on good terms with a gentleman fellow who will gladly do the deed for me. This answer got a shocked expression akin to something one would expect if she said she slept with a different man everytime she got the urge for a little lovin'.

Now, my friend who so abruptly and hastily exited the car, the rest of my answer:

'tis true, I would much rather have a man venture down there. It's more enjoyable, there's no awkward angles, and, lets face it, you would rather have a girl doing your job for you every morning if you had the opportunity. Now - here's point number 1 (A number 1, if you will): I don't have a desire to do it every morning like most guys I know. Don't know if you do, but I don't. Hell, I don't have the urge every week even. My needs come sporatically and when they are there, they get satiated.

Watch out, here comes point number 2: if you hadn't shut the car door before I was done speaking, you also would have learned that when the mood strikes at midnight I don't head out to the bar and pull a guy into the ladies room for a little satisfaction. Everyone does it every once in awhile. Hell, Britney Spears even has a song about it.

And finally, point number 3 (C number 3!!!): OK, so I don't really have a whole other point. I needed an odd number and that seemed good enough as any.

Now, The Question is all cleared up.

Bill Lumbergh

2005-10-31T13:11:00.000-05:00

No lie, the real life incarnation of Bill Lumbergh is one of the VP's at my company and, lucky me, he sits about 3 cubes away.

The Drunkest Girl in the Building

2005-10-31T11:44:00.000-05:00

...that was me.

Friday evening, Felecia and I hopped into Elphie, my zippy little Jetta, and took an adventure Boston and the surrounding areas looking for our costumes. I say adventure because it took us like, a million hours in malls and Target. A million is alot of hours, and one too many to allow dinner prior to partying.

Fast forward to 10 pm or so. We're dressed (she, Punky Brewster, I, Mary-Kate Olsen) and headed out the door to Liz's place down the street, road sodas in place.

(Felecia, being the clever clogs that she is, placed her beverage in a container that does not disintegrate once alcohol touches it edges.

I opted for something a bit more in character- a Venti Starbucks cup. How was I to know that the paper they use gets eaten away by alcohol almost instantaneously? Had I know that I most certainly would not have poured approximately 5 shots of vodka in the cup.)

So, half way to Liz's (which is down the road) my cup starts leaking. Well, M.K. can't be without a Starbucks cup in hand, every gossip girl knows that, so, I did the only thing I could do. Downed it in a matter of minutes.

This was the beginning of the end for me. In total I imbibed 5 shots of vodka, approximately 3 shots of Malibu, and 1.5 games of beer pong beer. All without dinner.

Apparently my antics became highly amusing/annoying after that. I did no less than the following things upon arriving home:

* Demanded that Flip make me an English Muffin with Cream Cheese

* Threw said English Muffin with Cream Cheese at said Flip all the while screaming, "It won't kill you!"

* Ripped (and broke) all of my Mary-Kate necklaces because I did not have the patience to take them off.

* Called the dog walking booty-call texter and left a rather frank and rude, albeit wasted, voicemail detailing the reasons he sucks at life.

* Called Tom twice. The first time to scream at him and the second time to demand an answer to the question, "WHY AM I VOICEMAIL!?"

* Exclaimed pride in the fact that I could not get sick.

* Passed out on the couch only to wake up, still wasted, at 10 am the next morning.

P.S. my head still hurts.

Retraction of an Earlier Statement

2005-10-28T09:35:00.000-04:00

Five minutes ago a delivery man from Winston's flowers came in with a beautiful vase of fall flowers, none of which are generic or hideous (roses, carnations, etc. = death). These flowers were labeled "Lindsay" and, I have to say, I got a little excited. Sadly for me, they were for one of the other Lindsays in the office (there are 3 of us).

Earlier this year I said that I didn't like to get flowers from boys. I would now like to retract this statement.

Avalon on a thursday night

2005-10-28T00:34:00.001-04:00

saves the day - one of the few bands that will always be able to speak straight to my heart and transport me to another, purer place. they played almost all my favorites - three miles down, you vandal, rocks tonic juice magic, freakish... the list goes on. my life would have been completed if i could have heard a drag in d flat and jessie and my whetstone. next time. there's always next time.

also making a kick ass appearance at the show tonight was the early november. i've never seen them live and they really rocked the house - especially the bassist who made it his life's mission to get all the kids pumped for the rest of the show. their set should have been twice as long as they were allotted. rock the fuck on, early november, i liked your sound before the show - i'm a card carrying fan club member now (not really but would be if you gave me a card).

the other two bands were unfortunately not worthy of sharing a stage with the demi-gods of saves the day.

senses fail and emanuel. ugh. someone needs to toss these two bands a copy of the emperors new clothes with a post-it attached to it explaining their role; the emperor, strutting down the street like he's the shit when he's really naked and exposed.

The Music in my Mind

2005-10-12T13:25:00.000-04:00

Everyone has those days when their internal iPod is on one song repeat. Today mine is stuck on one line from “Breakdown” by Mae. ONE LINE. This to me is the epitome of hell; no matter how many times you listen to the band, the song, the line on repeat it refuses to leave. It’s stuck it’s stubborn foot down into my brain tissue and refuses to leave. All the way to work on the T this morning all I could hear was, “It’s magic, she says to me…” All day at my computer, “It’s magic, she says to me…” ALL DAY. It’s not like I don’t know the rest of the words to the song either.

Stupid catchy song.

Recognition

2005-10-11T10:37:00.000-04:00

Mad props go out to:

Irving Plaza for being the suckiest venue I’ve ever been to.30 - 45 minutes between sets and a headlining band that didn't take the stage until 11:00 pm? Get over yourself.

Risotteria on Bleeker for its gluten-free dining experience. Consumed foods included two different types of pizza, breadsticks, a cookie stuffed with gorgeous fudge, and beer. Thanks to you roommate’s inner frat boy was finally able to run free.

Apple, the maker of the iPod for all the entertainment during the zillion hours spent in the car.

Roommate for knowing that I was ready to drop dead last night and providing sustenance in the form of hardcore and Thai food.

Kingston for being its uniquely wacky self – it was a pleasure as always, K-town.

Turning Blonde

2005-10-11T08:56:00.000-04:00

At some point in mid-September, I decided to color my hair brown. This unnatural perversion of my golden locks was not a result of any sort of personality crisis nor was it a last ditch attempt to revert myself back to a time where I was happier and carefree.

I can see at least a few pair of eyes rolling into the backs of skulls from here. “Sure, sure,” you think. “That’s what you say because you can’t see yourself from outside yourself.” This is absolutely true. I can’t see me from 100 feet. I can’t even see me from 10 feet. I never purported to.

However, I can see my perspective from my own unique angle of personal history, desire, and actual self.

This was not an attempt to change who, what, or where I am at this point in my life. This was an attempt to change my hair and nothing more – so stop scrutinizing it as something psychological. Let go of the fact that I’m no longer the tall, blonde girl and start accepting the idea of me just being tall.

A New Yorker Stranded in Boston

2005-10-07T08:07:00.000-04:00

Every Friday morning, someone brings bagels into work for the entire office. The list rotates around and today was my turn. Now, usually, people bring in crappy Finagle-a-Bagel bagels or, god forbid, Dunkin' Donuts bagels. These brands, to Bostonians, are real bagels* (I know, you probably just vomitted in your mouth a little bit, too).

Today, it was my turn to bring the bagels. I feel that, as the a New Yorker in the middle of Red Sox Nation - The Office Edition, it was my duty to expose them to the best bagels that this city has to offer. Sort of like a missionary - only instead of teaching the ways of Jesus, I'm teaching the ways of the bagel.

Bagel Rising bagels are currently sitting on the kitchen table in enticing piles. These are bagels. They have a bit of a crust on the outside and are hot and doughy on the inside - not just a hunk of bread shaped like a doughnut.

Get'em while they're hot, office, and see the light of what a real bagel should taste like.

...next on my list: pizza.

*Real bagels cannot be bought at a chain. They cannot be purchased at a grocery store or bakery. They can only be bought at local establishments devoted to coffee and/or bagels.

Rant

2005-09-29T10:34:00.000-04:00

I decided to take a detour to iTunes before bed last night – I had high hopes of downloading the new Coheed & Cambria and possibly surfing around for a bit. I was diverted from my original path, however, when I saw that the new Rent Movie Soundtrack was available for purchase.

Those of you who don’t know me won’t know why this would be such a big deal as to warrant a blog entry. So, let me briefly tell you about my absolute obsession with Rent.

When I was a freshman at SUNY New Paltz my roommate introduced me to the wonders of Rent via a huge poster and the soundtrack playing on repeat from her computer all day long. At first, I was a bit wary but gradually I learned that damn, this is a good musical.

No, phenomenal.

Soon enough, Tess and I were dancing around our room, singing at the top of our lungs, tongues twisting in time with the fast-paced La Vie Boheme or singing Another Day like we were trying to save its life (incidentally, Tess could kickstart a brain-dead song into a Mensa meeting while I cannot even carry a tune – not a fair pairing of vocal talents for her). I was hooked and I hadn’t even seen the musical.

Fast forward four years – I’m obsessed. Jonathan Larson has changed my life. I have seen Rent on Broadway too many times to count. I have an irrational fear that the soundtrack might wear off my iPod like Hangin’ Tough wore off my cassette tapes.

Now imagine my excitement at finding this new iteration of the soundtrack on iTunes. I knew that the movie was coming out (November 11th in NY and LA, November 23rd everywhere) – I just never thought about the soundtrack being released prior. I quadruple-clicked on preview for “Out Tonight”, wary of what Rosario Dawson would be able to bring to the plate as 19-year old stripper Mimi.

I'm disappointed.

Christopher Columbus, I blame you for going with a famous actress when you found out the original Mimi was pregnant. You could have chosen from hundreds of other actresses who have played the role on stages across the globe.

Working

2005-09-27T08:30:00.000-04:00

So this morning I'm getting dressed in my usual young unprofessional attire and I'm thinking to myself that I really, really, really don't want to do this anymore. Not work at my current job where the day flies by before I get the chance to inhale, but work in general.

I began pondering why, after over a year as a working girl, would I still have this feeling of despair every morning. Surely I should have acclimated by now! Then it dawned on me - I'm only 22.

I'm still a baby. I should be seeing the world and getting an education, not speaking to clients everyday and acting more like a 30 year old with a family than a kid who, age-wise, should just be graduating college this year.

Something is rotten in South Boston and the only way to stop it from getting worse (read: more mundane) is by breaking the cycle.

This morning I took the first step and started an application to graduate school. For Social and Visual Anthropology.
In London.
This coming Fall.

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Concerns?

Awesome.

2005-08-11T15:03:00.000-04:00

Scorpio Horoscope for week of August 11, 2005

It's unlikely that you or I or anyone we know will become famous enough to earn a mention in the historical records of the future. The odds are probably 10 million to 1. But if you do manage to make such a prominent name for yourself that our descendants will be able to read about your exploits and contributions, it could very well be because of events you set in motion during the next six weeks. The possibility that you will make a mark on eternity is as great as it has ever been.

a punk rock textbook gone wrong

2005-08-08T14:35:00.000-04:00

Saturday I picked up a book entitled Nothing Feels Good: Punk Rock, Teenagers, and Emo. This tome was purchased as a lark; something to read aloud later on in the evening after we were all a bit tipsy and tripping over one or more of the three pair of identical black Converse in the hotel. As with all great, pre-planned notions, this idea never came to fruition – and it’s a damned good thing.

On the train ride home the following morning I started reading through the various chapters and found a small bit of outrage growing in the pit of my stomach at the author’s choice of interviewees. He followed three boys from Long Island as they sped along their own highway of discovering “emo” bands. These kids are painted as true Carrabba fans and, by extension, the new generation of emo kid. My opinion of them, however, is somewhat decidedly different for a select few reasons.

they openly admit to crying at a Dashboard show. This is something that, in and of itself, isn’t out of the norm. I’ve been to those shows and, even once, started crying (I had just gone through a break-up and the lyrics to The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most completely resonated with me). My problem is the ease with which they admit it – not just with ease, but with a solemn reverie that one very rarely finds in teenage boys. This alone, is not damning enough because, hey, you never know, these kids may really be in touch with themselves.
girls don’t “get” Dashboard. Enough said. Where the hell did he find these kids?
the Promise Ring doesn’t sound anything like New Found Glory. Well duh. This little factoid came as a shock to our little buddies from the Island. Not only that, but they didn’t have the slightest idea who the Promise Ring was and had only heard their music via a mistaken download. These kiddies also have never heard of many other bands listed by the author – bands that any fan of the genre worth his salt would recognize in a second. Jets to Brazil, for example.

The author follows these faux bleeding hearts around, listening and watching as they lament Carrabba’s rise to stardom. This goes on for at least three chapters of the book making it seem as though Carrabba is the embodiment of the definition of emo. Seriously, this book is more the Tiger Beat biography of Dashboard Confessional than an anthropologic study of a sub-culture.

Tonight when I get home I’m going to turn Jets to Brazil - Orange Rhyming Dictionary on and brave the chapter devoted to emo girls.

if i made overtime i'd be a millionaire

2005-07-26T12:31:00.000-04:00

...not to mention less bitter about the fact that the past few days I've spent at work have consisted of me entering through the Golden Doors (aka the Gates of Hell) at 8:30 a.m. and leaving through them at 8:45 p.m.

I am irritable and easily annoyed with my co-workers for pawning off work on me vs. doing it themselves. I am even more irritated with myself for having been such an accepting eager beaver. For instance, right now I am sitting at the reception desk and covering the phones. This is how I get to spend my lunch hour.

Fuck, I'm annoyed right now.

2005-07-21T16:32:00.000-04:00

OMG I have ADD like you would not BELIEVE

I feel like a hermit crab moving homes

2005-07-14T19:19:00.000-04:00

The time on my work computer's clock reads 7:19 p.m.

This is one of the many reasons I'm so stressed I could cry. Who has to stay this late when they come in at 8:30 am? I can't even take solace in the fact that after this I'm meeting people from work to celebrate a birthday (not mine). Why? Because even though I was pulled from the depths of my depression on Monday night, I'm still wading around the shallow end a bit. I'm still feeling anti-social, I still just want to watch TV. Why I won't allow myself these simple pleasures I'll never know - maybe it's because I know that the only way to get back into the swing of societal living is by forcing myself into situations like this one.

Whatever it is, I almost wish I wasn't going. I don't have the money to spend on dinner right now.

this post is not full of pretty pink and blue thoughts

2005-07-11T07:28:00.000-04:00

This weekend was full of unpleasant discoveries and bad news coming at me from all directions.

It seems that cancer is taking over the world. If not the world, at least my world. It's everywhere and I'm standing in the middle watching, trying not to let the wide-eyed fear creep into my everyday life too much. It doesn't work well, mostly because I hate my job and, as most well know, trying to distract oneself from something horrible with something else horrible isn't the best way of going about things.

It's no wonder that I've been breaking down and crying at the drop of a hat since yesterday evening. First, on the drive home from Danvers - I just broke down in the car for no apparent reason. Childish really. Overwhelmed. The second time I broke down it was after a late night phone call, something that didn't bother me at all, rather. reminded me just what life used to be like and how much I wish it was that way again. Not necessarily living at home, though that didn't suck at all, but just not being overworked and underappreciated.

Honestly - if I knew back in March what I know now, I would have gone back to school. I regret my decision every fucking day.

Boston, I love you, but I hate my job. I hate the fact that all I feel up to doing on the weekends is sitting in and watching TV because I'm too emotionally drained to do anything else. Nothing lasts forever and this job is on it's last fucking legs. It's going to drive me to drink or drive me back to the pills that none of you probably knew I was on until right this second.

Surprise.

The Fourth of July: A Haiku

2005-07-05T20:16:00.000-04:00

Fireworks were great
Mass. Ave. bridge kareoke
Follow that S4

It's Lunchtime

2005-06-29T13:08:00.000-04:00

...and I'll be the fat ass at her desk eating McDonalds.

2005-06-23T09:08:00.000-04:00

Yet another reason to love New York City.

A Promise

2005-06-23T08:58:00.000-04:00

I solemnly swear to keep my posts below essay length from here on in. Also, I will no longer be injecting academic and historic background into posts for proof, etc. as this takes up a large portion of real estate on my blog and is, let's all face it, boring as hell to everyone but me and possibly Emma, who enjoys historical talk.

The Southern Baptist on the B Line

2005-06-19T16:45:00.000-04:00

I was on my way home from a date with the Irish boy, headphones on, Claudio's divine voice melting my heart when all the sudden the Southern Baptist (S.B.) next to me starts effusing rhetoric about the evils of education. According to him, the quest for education was the cause of the Dark Ages. That's not all though. As a result of the growing population of educated people we are being led into another era of Dark Ages.

Now, forgive me if I'm wrong but I do believe that the "Dark Ages" my overweight friend on the B line was referring to are actually better known as the Middle Ages; aka the time within which only the truly privleged were able to possess the written word. During this era, feudalism was also the norm, as was the the absolute power of the Church. Reparations, anyone?

If I remember correctly, this era was ended with the invention of Johannes Gutenberg's printing press. With this, mass production of the written word began, making knowledge readily available to more and more people. This is most commonly known as the ushering in of the Renaissance (thanks for the editing, Ems). Funny, I didn't hear S.B. on the T mention anything about this.

I also didn't hear him explain just how the education of the masses would lead us into another Dark Ages - seems that education does the exact opposite doesn't it?

My Southern friend also felt the need to speak on the likes of Abraham Lincoln, Alexander Graham Bell, and Benjamin Franklin as examples of why we do not need education. According to him, all of these men did not need education to achieve greatness. Let's just take a quick gander at them, shall we?

Abraham Lincoln: Recieved no formal education after primary school level and went on to pass the bar and practice law. This is something that my Southern Baptist T companion felt was an accomplishment for the "Uneducated and Proud"
club. However, one must question how Mr. Lincoln passed the bar exam. He didn't do it with religion and lucky charms. He studied his ass off, effectively educating himself on all aspects of the law.

Alexander Graham Bell: The fact that he was even used as an example is ridiculous. Not only did Bell attend University, he also taught afterwards. Ironically, he was a professor at Boston University, the very university that S.B. was most vehemently opposed to. (also, my alma mater)

Benjamin Franklin: Another man who recieved very little formal education but valued it's relevence just the same. For God's sake, the man discovered two physical sciences and established the University of Pennsylvania. He was actively committed to the higher education of others. To suggest that education was not necessary to him is an insult to the legacy that he left behind.

I think that S.B. focused too much on the fact that Lincoln and Franklin had very little formal education; so much so that it blinded him to the fact that education was an intergral part of their lives long after they left school.

Again, lets give S.B. the benefit of the doubt. I'll even give him this round. Yes - 2 out of the 3 men he listed were not formally educated past childhood.

Bravo, S.B. you've educated (oh, the irony) yourself enough to throw out names of great men who fit your purpose. What you did not do, and probably should have done (but can't because you don't believe in education) is researched the ways in which a lack of education would affect those men in modern times.

For instance, even if Lincoln passed the bar exam, he would find it hard to become as successful a lawyer as he was in his time. Why? Because it matters what school you go to. People care. Same with Benjamin Franklin - yes, he was a great scientist - but I wonder if we brought him into the modern world how good of a scientist would he be? He wouldn't even have the opportunity - science now is much more in-depth and meticulous than tying a key to a kite. It's subcutaneous material, anti-matter, and smaller than atoms. Franklin would have to have some sort of formal education to discover anything, if only because without the educated background he would be denied access to places where discoveries are made.

So, in short, S.B., to tell me that not only is there no need for formalized education but that it will lead to a Dark Age is preposterous.

What are you afraid of? The fact that Darwin might be right and that the Theory of Evolution is in fact how man kind came about vs. the biblical story of Adam and Eve?

Are you afraid that the educated are coming close to proving that God doesn't exist, thus ushering in another Dark Age? Is that your fear?

If it is, I suggest you take a better look at the world around you; in particular schools such as St. Anselm's and Boston College - both of which have religious (ACK, EVEN CHRISTIAN RELIGIOUS) men teaching evolution and encouraging scientific discoveries. How might this be possible? Doesn't this smack of heresy? Don't they believe in God?

Of course they do. Just ask.

No doubt your answer will contain descriptions of the divine number, the fact that perfection and symmetry cannot be coincidental, Rene Descartes and his proof that we do in fact exist, Epictetus and his discourse on life and destiny, and the fact that the common thread in all of these educated philosophies is that there must be a higher power behind it all.

It's just not necessarily the fire and brimstone higher power that you ascribe to.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a graduate school application to finish.

2005-06-17T16:48:00.000-04:00

We have this thing called Friday at Four at my job. Why am I telling you this? Because at Friday at Four the company provides alcohol. I should not drink during this time because there is always an hour between the end of the event and the time to go home during which I need to retain my professional composure; a feat made difficult, nay, impossible, when inebriated off of a glass of wine.

I swear, that wine is made with Everclear.

Weekend Update: A List

2005-06-13T14:48:00.000-04:00

It's Friday, I'm in love.
Friday evening was spent at Embassy on Landsdowne St. The first 15 minutes or so were dedicated to me being 'observed' for a waitressing position at said club. I was told to "be social".

What I was not told was that "be social" in nightclub-ese is "be a skank that shows her pooshakala to the entire club". Needless to say, I socialized without dancing on tables or being felt up by the hiring manager. Note to all the other girls that were 'observed' for the position: Have some diginity and, barring that, at least have the God given sense to know that skirts come in sizes larger than "Small" for a reason.

Other notable events that took place on Friday evening were (not in any particular order):

The sausage guy at Fenway telling me I look like "that girl from Scrubs"(thanks, I know)
Losing my wallet - or rather, forgetting it at home and panicking because I thought I lost it
The universe paying up in the form of a hot, single, and just-here-for-the-summer Irish boy

Everyday is like Sunday...
Sunday was spent at Cambridgeside Galleria returning clothing - or attempting to. Express seems to think that they're the cat's meow and would not take back a dress that is still on their racks because it's over the return date limit. Seriously - that store has a major attitude problem and as soon as my Express card is paid off... well, nothing. I still think the clothes are pretty.

Afterwards, it was a mad dash search for an air conditioner that isn't tempermental. Finally we found one at the Home Depot in Danvers, lugged it to the Jetta and, 6 hours later, had it correctly installed in the window, cheerfully cooling down the living room formerly known as the Distant Cousin to the Surface of the Sun.

"What's with today, today?"
Unfortunately, the bedrooms were still hot - so hot in fact, that the tiniest beep from my mobile phone at 1:38 a.m. woke me up. This horrid heat will change this evening when the wonderful Tom-I-No-Longer-Use-My-Name-as-a-Password comes over to help me install my AC.

2005-06-10T13:40:00.000-04:00

So we have this color printer in our office that is next to my cube and constantly having issues with it's ink. Today, we got a repair man in to look at it. Instead, he's deciding to look at me.

CREEPY.

What is it with the universe and deciding to creep me out this week? First the myspace message last night (more of that to come, I swear) and now this creepy dude?!

Universe, tonight you owe me a cute, non-creepy, Irish boy.

Why I miss New York City - Reason # 43904830:

2005-06-08T11:42:00.000-04:00

Publicity stunts like this one in Times Square.

Praying for Daylight

2005-06-07T23:40:00.000-04:00

It's too hot to sleep - I just end up tossing and turning, thinking about things that I ought not think about. Like blue screen lights and thrashing around because the fever in the air won't break, static in the still.

It's nights like this where I really stop to examine myself - lying in bed on top of the covers, a spare sheet thrown over my legs haphazardly because I can't ever rest unless I'm shielded from the world.

Quote of the Day

2005-06-01T09:36:00.000-04:00

"Next week, New York shows off some more of their investigative journalism chops with their 'boy, there sure are a lot of Starbucks' series (part 1 of 10)." - Gawker

The Morning Commute: A Breakdown of the Daily Routine

2005-06-01T08:52:00.000-04:00

Early each morning, millions of commuters all over the globe wake up with a feeling of dred in the pit of their empty stomach... it doesn't matter how far or how long the commute, the feeling is still there, still the same.

Directly after, there's always that fleeting, wonderous moment in which the idea of calling in sick is entertained. How deliciously naughty it would be to be truant from work for a day, shopping or sleeping while the rest of the world trudges through their daily routine. The pleasures are almost too gorgeous to measure!

Sadly, this moment is almost always followed by the reality that a day out of work is one less vacation day, one less actual sick day, one less day to keep in the stores that we find ourselves peeking at with private glee in between conference calls.

So we reluctantly roll our sleep-deprived bodies out of bed and head for the shower. A given amount of time later we commuters are ready, as bright-eyed and bushy tailed as we can be with the knowledge that it's time to leave the house for at least another 8 hours.

On the way to work it's music or talk radio and copious amounts of caffinated beverages (this morning, Starbucks Venti Nonfat Vanilla Latte), sometimes topped off by a sugary mess that is always a source of regret later on in the day (that is going straight to your thighs).

Ah, young professionalism. Now all I need to do is anticipate 5:30 with bated breath.

Wait, that was a long weekend?

2005-05-31T08:33:00.000-04:00

...it sure as hell didn't feel like it. Why you ask? Several reasons:

I worked until 7 p.m. on Friday, after which, I proceeded to drive back home to New York. Restful? Nope think again. Saturday morning I was up and at my old place of employment, running the show from 10:30 am to 9:30 pm without a real break. FUN. Sunday was a family to-do after which I drove BACK to Boston at break-neck speeds of 100mph (for serious), and hosted a small party.

Yesterday was spent getting food, going to Cambridgeside, learning where Malden is, and testing out furniture at Jordan's. Where oh where is my restful weekend where I sleep until 2 every afternoon and only move to eat or have a marathon of television? Where!?! (Sidenote: I must admit, if I actually did have that as a weekend, I would probably be bored to tears)

To top off the hectic weekend, this morning at 3:45 am I hear metal scraping, a car alarm go off, and some more scraping. Looking out my window I see a car being towed out of my parking lot. The alarm blared all the way down the street. (sidenote: as I told Eric and Flip this morning, when the car was being taken away and I could still hear the alarm all I could think of was that GODDAMN science thingy the Doppler Effect).

May the Force Be With You

2005-05-27T11:28:00.000-04:00

That's right, Flippy and I succumbed to calling last night, grit our teeth, and went to see what this Star Wars hubbub is all about. Here, without spoiling anything, are my impressions of the evening and film in no particular order:

If I was Padme and my husband was that hot and that powerful I wouldn't be torn. I'd be turned on.
Watching a light saber fight on the ceiling of the movie theatre is not conducive to a happy crowd. I sensed a coup d'etat happening any second - thankfully, the projector operator took his finger out of his nose long enough to fix it.
When people cheer at movies, I have to bite my hand to stop from laughing. It's not the premiere - the cast and crew can't hear you.
Free movie tickets for the above light saber ceiling fight more than make up for my 5 seconds of anguish without Hayden in my visage.
One must always have faith in my ability to get better seats at the movies(ahem, FELECIA) because in case you haven't noticed, this girl sees something she wants and gets it. Well, 99% of the time.
Graphically pleasing, beautiful film with a great score.

All in all, a good evening.

The Graduating Class of 2005

2005-05-24T09:54:00.000-04:00

It's been a year since I wore that ridiculous red robe and was subjected to listening to Boring-Man-No-One-Really-Cares-About talk about Topic-Unrelated-to-Graduation (himself)in the pouring rain for three hours.

A year since I moved everything out of the nicest apartment anyone will ever know in college, sobbing hysterically because I couldn't believe it was over so soon. Maybe that wasn't why I was crying - maybe I was crying because I didn't know what was coming next.

I saw my mindset of immortality swiftly changing to a daily grind, a wedding, Disney World with small children, AARP magazine magically appearing on my doorstep. It turned out I am mortal after all.

This is, I think, the underlying panic that finds most college graduates right about now. The "now what"?!?!" I wake up tomorrow morning and who am I? I'm no longer a student on break for the Summer - I'm an unemployed college graduate. My summer job is no longer acceptable work; not because I'm too old but because I've got this stupid piece of paper that says I'm too smart to scoop ice cream for a living.

Take it from me, Class of 2005. A year from now, you'll be ok with it. Hell, you'll even be happy that it's NOT YOU walking down Comm. Ave in your bright red robe.

My Diet

2005-05-20T16:55:00.000-04:00

It is disgusting. I look back at what I've eaten over the day and I can honestly say I am the anti-Atkins grossness. What did I eat that was so nasty you ask? Well, let's see, shall we?

7:00 a.m.: Bowl of Cocoa Puffs
9:00 a.m.: Everything Bagel with Cream Cheese
3:00 p.m.: Skittles
4:00 p.m.: Generous glass of Chardonnay
4:45 p.m.: Snickers Bar

This is not to mention the crap from last night... aka Drunken Noodle and Thai Spring Rolls both of which I would eat for dinner again tonight if God was so wonderful.

...actually, turns out the Big Man? He is that wonderful becuase I just got $20 for making sure my publications came out error free this month. Hello Thai food and the couch ALL evening.

Quote of the Day:

2005-05-19T23:10:00.000-04:00

"I'm kind of pretty and pretty damn smart. I like romantic things like music and art. And as you know I have a gigantic heart! So whhhhhyyyy don't I have a boyfriend?!? Fuck! It sucks to be me!" Kate Monster, Avenue Q

Recap of Yesterday (for all parties interested or insanely bored)

2005-05-19T12:20:00.000-04:00

Part I: Training Day
When I was in school, a three hour lecture once a week seemed like torture. I do not, as my co-worker J so plainly points out, have the ability to sit still for more than 20 minutes. It's just not who I am.

What does this have to do with training, you ask? Yesterday I was in training for the entire workday. ENTIRE. ENTIRE.

From 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. I was stuck in a room without a clock, learning about how to do my job better.

Now, granted, I appreciate the class and I did get alot out of it - including the amazing feat of sitting still for much more than 20 consecutive minutes (how you like them apples, J?); but 7 hours!? We didn't even get to leave for lunch - it was served to us while learning!

(Side note: Flippy would have starved. All there was was sandwiches and cookies. Poor planning for those who do not eat wheat. Also poor planning for those vegetarians in the ranks, as the vegetarian sandwiches were buried beneath the sandwiches filled with dead animal carcass)

The one good thing? We did get out about 2 hours earlier than work with the promise of keeping our jobs the next day even if we didn't return to the office. I, obviously, did not return, opting instead to go home and clean my room.

Part II: Finding Watertown
It was an ongoing feat, this room cleaning, broken up by a 3 hour trip to Target in Watertown (which, quite frankly, I'm shocked we found) for curtains, a vase (for the flowers from the afore mentioned post), and other reasonably priced goodies. After Target room cleaning was further delayed by dinner, American Idol results, and the hanging of the Kandinsky (a feat in and of itself).

Part III: She Sucks... like a Hoover.
Cleaning commenced at approximately 11 p.m. at which time I thought it would be great to vacuum. Apparently, the Woo-Woos, our obnoxiously loud neighbors downstairs, thought differently and began banging on their ceiling.

Like a good neighbor, I stopped what I was doing (but only because I was finished). However, unlike a good neighbor, I felt the need to exact my revenge this morning, stomping around my bedroom at 6:30.

Future plans to annoy the Woo-Woo's out of the building include vacuuming the apartment in the early hours of Saturday and stomping on the floor when they're getting it on (which I can hear).

Any further suggestions will be taken and put to the test in due time.

Rantings and Ravings About Most Girl's Dream Dates

2005-05-17T11:48:00.000-04:00

Second date last night - it went well, for all intents and purposes. Though there was one tiny little detail that annoyed me.
It shouldn't have annoyed me.
Other girls will wonder what is wrong with me for being annoyed by such a gesture.
I can hear you wondering what it is.

He met me with flowers.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love flowers. I do. I like recieving them at work or at home when delivered by a neutral third party. I even occasionally like it when someone shows up at my door bearing them. I do not like when someone meets me out somewhere and hands them to me.

What the hell is a girl supposed to do for the rest of the night except for carry a bouquet around? Which, granted, isn't despicable -though it is cumbersome - when you're still on the date. People who see you, know you're on a date anyway. No harm, no foul.

However, after the date, if you are not walked to your door (I was not) you're left alone, holding a bouquet of flowers like Hester Pryne held her scarlet letter.

Both of you, girl with flowers and unfortunate Hester, are branded by those items. He may as well have given me a bright red "A" to wear on my chest for the way that damn parcel made me feel on the walk home. People stare; and, where it had the possibility to be fun before, now it can be nothing but embarassing.

You're by yourself carrying flowers. You are either a social pariah returning home to your cats with flowers you bought yourself or, perhaps worse, you are carrying a banner announcing your dating availability to the world.

You, flower bearer, are Off the Market with a capital O.

Next time, why doesn't someone just pee on my leg. It does the same goddamn thing.

Can we please let the record state that I am not off the market and if you want to do something sweet for me on a date, buy me jewlery. I don't care if its a friendship bracelet that comes out of the 25 cent machines at Starmarket - it's quirkier, more fun, and less obvious than flowers.

Quote of the Day: I think I'm a very pretty girl. I'm not going to pretend to think otherwise." Milla Jovovich

How to Get a Second Date with Me:

2005-05-13T13:25:00.000-04:00

Take me to P.F. Changs for dinner, Coldstone Creamery for dessert. Afterwards, tell me that you find my childish antics amusing and that I’m the best date you’ve ever had.

Quote of the Day: "Well. I’ll be godamned if Kevin Bacon didn’t just nearly bike me over on his two-wheeler, corner of 41st and 7th (“FASHION AVENUE”!)." taken from Gawker Stalker

when you deign to sing like no one's listening? make sure no one is listening

2005-05-12T10:42:00.000-04:00

This morning, bouncy and bright-eyed, I merrily skipped my way to the D line. Waiting for my train, I found myself surprised that not even the appallingly moronic Letters to the Editor in the Metro could get me down. I was downright chipper and chatty, bouncing around like a ball of flubber shot out of a cannon.

Then the train came.

Not only were 5 zillion of Brighton's finest patiently waiting with me at Reservoir, but 5 zillion other Bostonians were already jam packed into the T, anxiously looking at their watches and making those gross exhaustive noises through their nostrils.

Undetered by the annoyed masses, I bounded on, my girl Kelly Clarkson ready to seriously rock out on the iPod. Unfortunately, there was no rock-out room, and believe me kids, I tried to rock out. It didn't work.

The next 45 minutes (the T today felt like it was going the speed of a special Olympic hurdler running through molasses) were reminiscent of being four years old, forced to sit still in church thinking about swimming pools the entire time instead of my sins (which, surely, in and of itself was a sin).

So once the T stopped at Park St. I clambored off. Then I rocked. Out loud.

That's right, from Park St. to South Station I was a one woman traveling circus, entertaining the masses by shaking my cute little butt down Summer St. and appalling them everytime I opened my mouth (note to self: next time remember that your singing voice clears a room before doing it in public).

The lesson learned? There are times when one should take the advice of emo bands, and times that one should listen to her common sense. This morning I should have done the latter.

Quote of the Day: "If I was the Virgin Mary, I would have said no." Stevie Smith

America is literally making people fatter now.

2005-05-10T16:56:00.000-04:00

That's right folks, get'em while the gettin's good.

American Idol Pop Tarts.

This fun, tasty treat is deliciously aglow with blue frosting, white star sprinkles, and red & white filling. Now you too can enjoy the fruity flavor of the American flag each morning, as part of your balanced breakfast.

Oh, Pop Tarts, you really have outdone yourself. Not just with this new, vile treat that will increase the national weight average but also with your clever, clever sponsorship choices.

Pop Tarts as a proud sponsor of American Idol?

Come on. The joke tells itself.

...and just in case you're too insipid to get it? Corn Pops will be joining Pop Tarts in this most noble of endeavors.

To Much Information

2005-05-10T13:20:00.000-04:00

Pop quiz: What's a girl to do when she's surprised with her period in the middle of the workday and cannot go home to change?

Answer: Go commando.

I feel like I'm on a woman-centric version of "The Office".

2005-05-10T10:59:00.000-04:00

Quote of the Day: "Dude, that’s not irony—it’s mimesis. No wonder they canned your ass." MnG

Yes, it's true, I have a blog.

This does not mean that I am leaving my livejournaling days behind. I'm still there, still occasionally polluting their servers with updates detailing the highlights and pitfalls of my existence.