In July --
RG: "You must have gotten on from the garage!!"
me: "mmhmm"
RG: "Cause this is the lowest regular level and I just got on and you were already here."
me: "yup"
Stop the hunt, I found the real Captain Obvious.
7.31.2005
flotsam
Another month is over, and I'm looking at my post count this month with embarrassment.
In July --
Monday morning. I get on the elevator at G3. Random Guy gets on at L.
RG: "You must have gotten on from the garage!!"
me: "mmhmm"
RG: "Cause this is the lowest regular level and I just got on and you were already here."
me: "yup"
Stop the hunt, I found the real Captain Obvious.
At work, we spotted our very own Ugly Naked Guy.
Though stranger things have been found in the hallway outside my apartment, this one caught my eye. Poor solitary unblossomed bud. Carelessly dropped without a backwards glance.
Friday was my last day at work. It feels strange tonight, Sunday, to not be worried about going to bed so I can get up tomorrow. It hasn't sunk in yet that I won't be going back. Thanks for the good times, everyone, and your support during the not so good.
I've rediscovered my love for skirts. Marylin Monroe issues aside, I can't seem to get enough of them, they're perfect in the heat.
I'm starting school again. Do you know how strange it is to be purchasing textbooks?
Harry Potter 6 is out. And why haven't I read it yet? Because I'm insane and have decided to reread books 1-5 first. Yeah. I'm in the middle of book 3 right at the moment, but I'm sure it will be 4 by tomorrow.
To those of you that say lists are a cop-out: Ppppppppbbbbbtttt. :)
In July --
RG: "You must have gotten on from the garage!!"
me: "mmhmm"
RG: "Cause this is the lowest regular level and I just got on and you were already here."
me: "yup"
Stop the hunt, I found the real Captain Obvious.
7.11.2005
division
I want to read.
Summertime was an exciting time for me growing up. Pizza Hut, had a program called Book It that encouraged kiddies to read by offering free personal pan pizzas as incentives. Now, I love me some Pizza Hut pan pizza, but even more motivating than the pie was the satisfaction I got from filling up their logs of reading faster than my librarian could hand out the slip. I was the girl who'd show up to the library, check out the max limit of books, and have them back within the week for the next round. I read just about everything they suggested, and then everything my friends read: The Boxcar Children, Choose Your Own Adventure, Encyclopedia Brown, and as time went on, authors like Christopher Pike, RL Stine, or even the controversial VC Andrews.
During the school year, the Scholastic Book fairs would come through town, and I usually tried to convince my parents to at least let me buy one good book.
I have fond memories of some of the books we read later in school: Watership Down, Fareheight 451, Brave New World.
All this, and yet once I hit middle school, I was "a math person". Horror of horrors, I was on Math Team, and you know what? I was good. SAT time? Yeah, the math section was my specialty. Honors programs? Math Math Math. When it came time for college, my major required as little reading or writing as possible, and we were proud of it. Writing was fluff, and reading was a chore. Suddenly, the years spent enjoying the written word were inconsequential. I was now a "numbers" kinda gal, who had time for books?
The tide started turning back a few years ago. Bridget Jones, the Shopaholic series, Harry Potter, The Interpreter of Maladies, Nick Hornby's offerings -- books were back in my world. Numbers seem far less interesting these days than words. I like to explore the difference in shades of meaning between words like pontifcate, extrapolate, and elaborate. I just like the way those words roll off the tongue.
This blog has encouraged me to think about language, and how to paint a picture. This afternoon, a friend gave me a math problem that my former self would have solved in a matter of minutes. And yet today, my mind couldn't make sense of those numbers. Tonight I want to do nothing more than curl up on my couch with a good book (or blog for that matter), and read until my eyes can no longer stay open.
Why does it seem I can only have one or the other?
Summertime was an exciting time for me growing up. Pizza Hut, had a program called Book It that encouraged kiddies to read by offering free personal pan pizzas as incentives. Now, I love me some Pizza Hut pan pizza, but even more motivating than the pie was the satisfaction I got from filling up their logs of reading faster than my librarian could hand out the slip. I was the girl who'd show up to the library, check out the max limit of books, and have them back within the week for the next round. I read just about everything they suggested, and then everything my friends read: The Boxcar Children, Choose Your Own Adventure, Encyclopedia Brown, and as time went on, authors like Christopher Pike, RL Stine, or even the controversial VC Andrews.
During the school year, the Scholastic Book fairs would come through town, and I usually tried to convince my parents to at least let me buy one good book.
I have fond memories of some of the books we read later in school: Watership Down, Fareheight 451, Brave New World.
All this, and yet once I hit middle school, I was "a math person". Horror of horrors, I was on Math Team, and you know what? I was good. SAT time? Yeah, the math section was my specialty. Honors programs? Math Math Math. When it came time for college, my major required as little reading or writing as possible, and we were proud of it. Writing was fluff, and reading was a chore. Suddenly, the years spent enjoying the written word were inconsequential. I was now a "numbers" kinda gal, who had time for books?
The tide started turning back a few years ago. Bridget Jones, the Shopaholic series, Harry Potter, The Interpreter of Maladies, Nick Hornby's offerings -- books were back in my world. Numbers seem far less interesting these days than words. I like to explore the difference in shades of meaning between words like pontifcate, extrapolate, and elaborate. I just like the way those words roll off the tongue.
This blog has encouraged me to think about language, and how to paint a picture. This afternoon, a friend gave me a math problem that my former self would have solved in a matter of minutes. And yet today, my mind couldn't make sense of those numbers. Tonight I want to do nothing more than curl up on my couch with a good book (or blog for that matter), and read until my eyes can no longer stay open.
Why does it seem I can only have one or the other?
7.01.2005
stark
Pulling up to the stop light, I noticed him right away. The gaunt, bent-over frame holding a cardboard sign was hard to miss, especially at the corner of a busy intersection not known for its foot traffic. "Unemployed carpenter. Tired and hungry, " his sign read. From two lanes away, I watched as he poured water from a fast food cup onto his dirty rag and tried to wash away the stickiness of the day from his face and neck.
Suddenly my view was blocked by a sexy silver convertible that pulled into the lane between us. With his music blaring, the driver, a young man with designer shades, turned to glance at the homeless man. Immediately, he turned back to face the front, picked up his iPod, and fiddled with it just long enough for the light to change.
The light finally turned green, and as we both drove away, I was left wanting to somehow right the wrong that didn't really exist.
Suddenly my view was blocked by a sexy silver convertible that pulled into the lane between us. With his music blaring, the driver, a young man with designer shades, turned to glance at the homeless man. Immediately, he turned back to face the front, picked up his iPod, and fiddled with it just long enough for the light to change.
The light finally turned green, and as we both drove away, I was left wanting to somehow right the wrong that didn't really exist.
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