Somebody remind me: if I ever get married, I'm going to elope.
It is the day before Beth's wedding, and things are still being added to the to-do list. I suppose it doesn't help that Beth has been rather unorganized about the whole thing. I think it's also due to the fact that she has been doing a lot of things herself. By that I mean no florist, no caterer, etc. For instance, on Tuesday she and my aunt Linda went to Vancouver to wherever it is that flower wholesalers auction off their flowers. They weren't sure if they'd be able, as non-professionals, to bid on flowers, but as it was they were allowed. And I guess they got some great bargains. Somehow Beth ended up with a hundred blue-dyed roses. She must've accidentally pressed the button when they were up, but they cost her, all of them, only $12 (Canadian funds?), so she decided she'd put them to use.
Tonight was a party at Jim's house with folks from Beth's side of the family (including us, the New York contingent), and folks from John's side of the family (John being her soon-to-be husband). I talked for a while with John's two daughters: Jessica, in fourth grade, and Madeline, in second. They are two of the cutest buttons I've ever met. And so funny, too. Jessica is chattier, but doesn't talk your ear off. She'd be talking to me about something, and Maddy would cut in with something fairly oblique, and Jess would look at her like, What are you talking about? And Maddy would just smile.
I spent the next two hours talking with an older couple, one at a time. I don't remember their names, but they were introduced to me as people who were "like parents to John." He is from England, she is from Holland, and they've both spent the better part of their lives in Canada. He and I talked about the US, and New York in general. He asked what we all thought about the whole Martha Stewart trial. I told him that we were largely amused by it. And I told him what Joe had told me: ImClone's stock was going to fall because their new drug wasn't going to get FDA approval. But just a couple of months ago, the drug was approved by the FDA; if Stewart hadn't sold her shares, she would be making money now. He was shocked--he hadn't heard anything about that.
I asked her about the Holland/Netherlands name thing, and she said that the Netherlands is so named because most of the country is below sea level--the "lower lands." It is divided up into eleven provinces. The two largest are called North Holland (where Amsterdam is) and South Holland, and together they make up most of the country. So "Holland" is kind of a nickname.
Jimmy chopped up some onions a few hours ago, for the salad tomorrow, but they're still making my eyes water.
You know, I just remembered that Mom and Kreg's wedding wasn't nearly this stress-inducing. Not for me, in any case. It must be a matter of deciding well in advance what you want to do, so that you can delegate well in advance and not have to change plans on people. Cos I think that's what's driving everyone nuts right now.
Oh, and subtract three hours from the timestamp. I could just change it, but I'd probably forget to change it again when I get back to Syracuse.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Westward Ho!
Aunt Beth's wedding is this weekend. Dad, Grammy, Uncle Peter, and I are flying to Seattle tomorrow morning, then renting a car and driving to Vancouver. Or Ferndale, WA, and then Vancouver. We'll be staying with Uncle Jimmy. I haven't seen some of my cousins out there in over a decade. Like, I think it's been fifteen years since I last saw Heather or Amy, and I've never met Amy's or Stephen's kids.
I still need to pack. I've got laundry in the dryer now. So I guess I'm just killing time till it's done.
Yeah. Gettin' up at 3:30am is gonna be fun.
Mmm, purty...
I still need to pack. I've got laundry in the dryer now. So I guess I'm just killing time till it's done.
Yeah. Gettin' up at 3:30am is gonna be fun.
Mmm, purty...
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Not cool, Lyzanne.
(20:20:34) Blu Fenix 3x311: EMILY!!!!
(20:20:34) ModernEmily <AUTO-REPLY> : Reproducibility is our motto.
Reproducibility is our motto.
(20:20:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: ITS ME JOE!!!!
(20:20:41) Blu Fenix 3x311: WAKE UP!!!!
(20:21:11) Blu Fenix 3x311: wanna go to the library and do ultra superdy duperdy cowabunga cool math?
(22:54:34) ModernEmily: sorryman, no can do.
(22:54:42) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:54:49) Blu Fenix 3x311: i know i asked like 5 years ago
(22:55:06) ModernEmily: um, do i know you?
(22:55:28) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes, joe, i am joe . . . no wait . . . im buck . . . lol
(22:55:48) ModernEmily: i currently know only one person named joe, and he is 30.
(22:56:04) ModernEmily: no, wait, i know another guy named joe, but he has three kids, and another one on the way.
(22:56:20) ModernEmily: i'm guessing you're not either of them.
(22:56:33) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol, i have three nephews and a neice on the way
(22:56:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: so that must be me
(22:56:44) ModernEmily: Mmm, i don't think that counts.
(22:56:47) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:56:57) Blu Fenix 3x311: ill just tell everyone u like buck . . .
(22:57:12) ModernEmily: i don't think they'll be terribly impressed.
(22:57:21) ModernEmily: since i don't know anyone named buck.
(22:57:24) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:57:34) Blu Fenix 3x311: ok, im starting fresh
(22:57:38) ModernEmily: and anyone you know probably doesn't know me.
(22:57:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: hey emily whats up?
(22:57:41) ModernEmily: ok, fresh.
(22:57:56) ModernEmily: nothing much. just got home from a friend's house.
(22:57:59) ModernEmily: what's up with you?
(22:58:09) Blu Fenix 3x311: talked to lyzanne earlier
(22:58:15) Blu Fenix 3x311: nuthin besides that
(22:58:17) ModernEmily: who's lyzanne?
(22:58:22) ModernEmily: i thought we were starting fresh?
(22:58:25) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol, emily
(22:58:26) Blu Fenix 3x311: damn u
(22:58:27) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:58:30) Blu Fenix 3x311: lmao
(22:58:33) Blu Fenix 3x311: u strange
(22:58:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: like mister anthony
(22:58:56) ModernEmily: okay. so, you know my name is emily, which you can probably tell from my screen name.
(22:59:12) ModernEmily: where do you live? like, what state? cos I am in syracuse, NY
(22:59:27) Blu Fenix 3x311: no u isnt
(22:59:36) ModernEmily: yes i is... uh, am.
(22:59:40) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:59:44) Blu Fenix 3x311: see u know its me
(22:59:53) ModernEmily: <sigh>
(23:00:04) ModernEmily: where'd you get this screenname?
(23:00:10) Blu Fenix 3x311: well, if ur not gonna be the emily i know than i guess ill leave u alone
(23:00:17) Blu Fenix 3x311: i got it thru lyzanne
(23:00:21) Blu Fenix 3x311: brokenasyou
(23:00:24) Blu Fenix 3x311: duh
(23:00:35) ModernEmily: because i'm sure you're going to talk to the emily you know about this, she's going to be very confused.
(23:00:43) ModernEmily: she gave you the screen name "modernemily"?
(23:00:53) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes
(23:01:01) ModernEmily: have you read my profile?
(23:01:06) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes
(23:01:17) ModernEmily: and i suppose you know that that's not you.
(23:01:44) ModernEmily: does the emily you know know someone else named joe, and someone named scott?
(23:01:56) ModernEmily: who would talk about axiom sets?
(23:02:12) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes
(23:02:26) Blu Fenix 3x311: emily, im tellin buck about u if u dont quit
(23:02:29) Blu Fenix 3x311: seriously
(23:02:35) ModernEmily: seriously.
(23:02:38) Blu Fenix 3x311: i hate being toyed with
(23:02:55) ModernEmily: i don't doubt it.
(23:03:09) Blu Fenix 3x311: im tellin buck
(23:03:12) Blu Fenix 3x311: bye
(23:03:20) ModernEmily: but in all honesty, i'm kind of having fun with this, and i also want to avoid the inevitable confusion your emily will experience when you tell her about this.
(23:04:28) Blu Fenix 3x311: yeah ok
(23:04:43) ModernEmily: if i give you the link to my blog, then will you believe me?
(23:04:55) Blu Fenix 3x311: maybe
(23:05:03) ModernEmily: http://modernemily.blogspot.com
(23:05:43) Blu Fenix 3x311: wow
(23:06:00) Blu Fenix 3x311: damn wtf, this girl told me that u were an emily at my school
(23:06:09) ***ModernEmily laugh
We chatted a bit longer about the Air Force, a recent topic on his buddy profile. And he gave me permission to post our conversation. The above cut-n-paste appears unedited.
Edit: In the interest of avoiding Emily's embarrassment, should she or her friends ever decide to visit this blog, I have changed the name of her love interest. So if I've picked a bad name, and there happens to be someone at Emily's school named Buck, sorryman, she doesn't have the hots you.
(20:20:34) ModernEmily <AUTO-REPLY> : Reproducibility is our motto.
Reproducibility is our motto.
(20:20:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: ITS ME JOE!!!!
(20:20:41) Blu Fenix 3x311: WAKE UP!!!!
(20:21:11) Blu Fenix 3x311: wanna go to the library and do ultra superdy duperdy cowabunga cool math?
(22:54:34) ModernEmily: sorryman, no can do.
(22:54:42) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:54:49) Blu Fenix 3x311: i know i asked like 5 years ago
(22:55:06) ModernEmily: um, do i know you?
(22:55:28) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes, joe, i am joe . . . no wait . . . im buck . . . lol
(22:55:48) ModernEmily: i currently know only one person named joe, and he is 30.
(22:56:04) ModernEmily: no, wait, i know another guy named joe, but he has three kids, and another one on the way.
(22:56:20) ModernEmily: i'm guessing you're not either of them.
(22:56:33) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol, i have three nephews and a neice on the way
(22:56:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: so that must be me
(22:56:44) ModernEmily: Mmm, i don't think that counts.
(22:56:47) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:56:57) Blu Fenix 3x311: ill just tell everyone u like buck . . .
(22:57:12) ModernEmily: i don't think they'll be terribly impressed.
(22:57:21) ModernEmily: since i don't know anyone named buck.
(22:57:24) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:57:34) Blu Fenix 3x311: ok, im starting fresh
(22:57:38) ModernEmily: and anyone you know probably doesn't know me.
(22:57:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: hey emily whats up?
(22:57:41) ModernEmily: ok, fresh.
(22:57:56) ModernEmily: nothing much. just got home from a friend's house.
(22:57:59) ModernEmily: what's up with you?
(22:58:09) Blu Fenix 3x311: talked to lyzanne earlier
(22:58:15) Blu Fenix 3x311: nuthin besides that
(22:58:17) ModernEmily: who's lyzanne?
(22:58:22) ModernEmily: i thought we were starting fresh?
(22:58:25) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol, emily
(22:58:26) Blu Fenix 3x311: damn u
(22:58:27) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:58:30) Blu Fenix 3x311: lmao
(22:58:33) Blu Fenix 3x311: u strange
(22:58:39) Blu Fenix 3x311: like mister anthony
(22:58:56) ModernEmily: okay. so, you know my name is emily, which you can probably tell from my screen name.
(22:59:12) ModernEmily: where do you live? like, what state? cos I am in syracuse, NY
(22:59:27) Blu Fenix 3x311: no u isnt
(22:59:36) ModernEmily: yes i is... uh, am.
(22:59:40) Blu Fenix 3x311: lol
(22:59:44) Blu Fenix 3x311: see u know its me
(22:59:53) ModernEmily: <sigh>
(23:00:04) ModernEmily: where'd you get this screenname?
(23:00:10) Blu Fenix 3x311: well, if ur not gonna be the emily i know than i guess ill leave u alone
(23:00:17) Blu Fenix 3x311: i got it thru lyzanne
(23:00:21) Blu Fenix 3x311: brokenasyou
(23:00:24) Blu Fenix 3x311: duh
(23:00:35) ModernEmily: because i'm sure you're going to talk to the emily you know about this, she's going to be very confused.
(23:00:43) ModernEmily: she gave you the screen name "modernemily"?
(23:00:53) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes
(23:01:01) ModernEmily: have you read my profile?
(23:01:06) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes
(23:01:17) ModernEmily: and i suppose you know that that's not you.
(23:01:44) ModernEmily: does the emily you know know someone else named joe, and someone named scott?
(23:01:56) ModernEmily: who would talk about axiom sets?
(23:02:12) Blu Fenix 3x311: yes
(23:02:26) Blu Fenix 3x311: emily, im tellin buck about u if u dont quit
(23:02:29) Blu Fenix 3x311: seriously
(23:02:35) ModernEmily: seriously.
(23:02:38) Blu Fenix 3x311: i hate being toyed with
(23:02:55) ModernEmily: i don't doubt it.
(23:03:09) Blu Fenix 3x311: im tellin buck
(23:03:12) Blu Fenix 3x311: bye
(23:03:20) ModernEmily: but in all honesty, i'm kind of having fun with this, and i also want to avoid the inevitable confusion your emily will experience when you tell her about this.
(23:04:28) Blu Fenix 3x311: yeah ok
(23:04:43) ModernEmily: if i give you the link to my blog, then will you believe me?
(23:04:55) Blu Fenix 3x311: maybe
(23:05:03) ModernEmily: http://modernemily.blogspot.com
(23:05:43) Blu Fenix 3x311: wow
(23:06:00) Blu Fenix 3x311: damn wtf, this girl told me that u were an emily at my school
(23:06:09) ***ModernEmily laugh
We chatted a bit longer about the Air Force, a recent topic on his buddy profile. And he gave me permission to post our conversation. The above cut-n-paste appears unedited.
Edit: In the interest of avoiding Emily's embarrassment, should she or her friends ever decide to visit this blog, I have changed the name of her love interest. So if I've picked a bad name, and there happens to be someone at Emily's school named Buck, sorryman, she doesn't have the hots you.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Did we mention the mirrors?
On my way home from work today, I passed a group of kids playing in a yard. Their game was suspended for a moment when their ball rolled into the street, and two of them waited for the traffic to pass before retrieving it. As I walked by, one girl, maybe 10 or 11, ran up to me. "Hey! You're so big now!"
Thoroughly puzzled, I stopped and said, "Oh yeah? How big was I before?"
She put her arm down and held her hand at about her waist. "This big."
"We were all that big once," I smiled. "When did you see me?"
"A red car... your mom drives a red car?"
"Nope, I'm sorry. I don't think I'm the person you remember."
"Oh." She went back to playing and I continued walking. "That girl..." I heard her say to one of her friends, and then she waved. "Bye!"
"Bye," I waved back.
Kids are so funny that way. My senior year of high school, I was walking home one day and a couple of kids were sitting on their front porch across the street. One called out to me. "Hey lady! How old are you?"
"How old do you think I am?"
He thought a second. "Thirty-two."
"That's it," I laughed, "I'm thirty-two."
I remember being twelve, and not knowing if I should refer to female college students as girls or women.
Heck, I still don't know.
Well, curiosity got the better of me tonight, and I decided I wanted to watch at least one episode of The Swan.
Sigh.... I guess I've got time for a rant.
Now, I've seen some of those quasi-documentaries on MTV that follow people who have cosmetic surgery, and I've been mildly entertained and somewhat intrigued by the process and the motivations of those who have it done. What I appreciate is that they show these people in their natural environments, interacting with their friends and family, and they don't draw the viewer away from the nominal subjects. Not so in The Swan, which touts itself the "most unusual pagent ever created." You, the viewer, spend too much time watching the show's hostess talk to the people who are going to be doing the makeovers: cosmetic surgeon, dietician, personal trainer, dentist, even a psychotherapist (gag me). Then you spend even more time listening to these professionals talk about the contestants and how well they think they're going to do. And before each commercial break they spend two minutes telling what's coming up later, and after every commercial break they give a two-minute recap of what's already happened in the show. Like, shut up and get on with it.
What's left is, Now they're excited about being a participant. Now they're at their new apartments, physically isolated from friends and family. See how the mirrors are all taped up? That's so they won't know how they look for the three months they're here. Now they're weeping over their "terrible" looks. Now they're at the doctor, and he's drawn all over their bodies with a purple Sharpie. Now they're nervous about surgery. Now they're in serious post-operative pain. They can't see themselves cos we covered up the mirrors. Now this one's really motivated to lose weight, but the other one's cheating on her diet. This one's unhappy with her marriage, and the other one has low self-esteem. And they still don't know how they look, cos they haven't seen a mirror in three months. Oh, and here they are, with nice make-up and fancy dresses, and we're going to make them super nervous about looking into a mirror for the first time in three months--remember how they haven't had any mirrors? Now they're crying with happiness. One wins, th'other loses, but really they both win because they're both beautiful.
And it's all about as interesting as my synopsis.
They interview the contestants before they enter "the program" and get them all teary about why they want to have these physical alterations done: "I don't go out to some places because I don't like the way I look;" "I want a divorce because my husband deserves better." Both of these things are, in their own way, genuinely saddening, but cosmetic surgery will not help that! There are greater issues of self-respect that need dealing with--and I suppose that's why the psychotherapist is there, but her presence is clearly a token gesture, and hardly the focus of the show. What little they air of the therapy sessions sounds more like gabbing girlfriends.
What might seem to validate the program's existence is that these women do, in fact, look better after their "transformation." You could watch and say, "They don't need cosmetic surgery," and at the end say, "Wow, they look a lot prettier." Like, everybody needs a little fixing up, right? All the world needs is a nip and tuck. And a gum reduction. And silicone breasts. See? So much better now.
At least the MTV program let you see if or how people's lives were changed as a result of their cosmetic surgery. Quite often it made little difference.
And I'm not even going to get in to the misogynistic theme inherent in this kind of circus show. Early twentieth-century feminists must be turning over in their graves.
Thoroughly puzzled, I stopped and said, "Oh yeah? How big was I before?"
She put her arm down and held her hand at about her waist. "This big."
"We were all that big once," I smiled. "When did you see me?"
"A red car... your mom drives a red car?"
"Nope, I'm sorry. I don't think I'm the person you remember."
"Oh." She went back to playing and I continued walking. "That girl..." I heard her say to one of her friends, and then she waved. "Bye!"
"Bye," I waved back.
Kids are so funny that way. My senior year of high school, I was walking home one day and a couple of kids were sitting on their front porch across the street. One called out to me. "Hey lady! How old are you?"
"How old do you think I am?"
He thought a second. "Thirty-two."
"That's it," I laughed, "I'm thirty-two."
I remember being twelve, and not knowing if I should refer to female college students as girls or women.
Heck, I still don't know.
Well, curiosity got the better of me tonight, and I decided I wanted to watch at least one episode of The Swan.
Sigh.... I guess I've got time for a rant.
Now, I've seen some of those quasi-documentaries on MTV that follow people who have cosmetic surgery, and I've been mildly entertained and somewhat intrigued by the process and the motivations of those who have it done. What I appreciate is that they show these people in their natural environments, interacting with their friends and family, and they don't draw the viewer away from the nominal subjects. Not so in The Swan, which touts itself the "most unusual pagent ever created." You, the viewer, spend too much time watching the show's hostess talk to the people who are going to be doing the makeovers: cosmetic surgeon, dietician, personal trainer, dentist, even a psychotherapist (gag me). Then you spend even more time listening to these professionals talk about the contestants and how well they think they're going to do. And before each commercial break they spend two minutes telling what's coming up later, and after every commercial break they give a two-minute recap of what's already happened in the show. Like, shut up and get on with it.
What's left is, Now they're excited about being a participant. Now they're at their new apartments, physically isolated from friends and family. See how the mirrors are all taped up? That's so they won't know how they look for the three months they're here. Now they're weeping over their "terrible" looks. Now they're at the doctor, and he's drawn all over their bodies with a purple Sharpie. Now they're nervous about surgery. Now they're in serious post-operative pain. They can't see themselves cos we covered up the mirrors. Now this one's really motivated to lose weight, but the other one's cheating on her diet. This one's unhappy with her marriage, and the other one has low self-esteem. And they still don't know how they look, cos they haven't seen a mirror in three months. Oh, and here they are, with nice make-up and fancy dresses, and we're going to make them super nervous about looking into a mirror for the first time in three months--remember how they haven't had any mirrors? Now they're crying with happiness. One wins, th'other loses, but really they both win because they're both beautiful.
And it's all about as interesting as my synopsis.

They interview the contestants before they enter "the program" and get them all teary about why they want to have these physical alterations done: "I don't go out to some places because I don't like the way I look;" "I want a divorce because my husband deserves better." Both of these things are, in their own way, genuinely saddening, but cosmetic surgery will not help that! There are greater issues of self-respect that need dealing with--and I suppose that's why the psychotherapist is there, but her presence is clearly a token gesture, and hardly the focus of the show. What little they air of the therapy sessions sounds more like gabbing girlfriends.
What might seem to validate the program's existence is that these women do, in fact, look better after their "transformation." You could watch and say, "They don't need cosmetic surgery," and at the end say, "Wow, they look a lot prettier." Like, everybody needs a little fixing up, right? All the world needs is a nip and tuck. And a gum reduction. And silicone breasts. See? So much better now.
At least the MTV program let you see if or how people's lives were changed as a result of their cosmetic surgery. Quite often it made little difference.
And I'm not even going to get in to the misogynistic theme inherent in this kind of circus show. Early twentieth-century feminists must be turning over in their graves.
Friday, April 09, 2004
Five Aluminum Cans
I know this link is going to be dead in a month, but I still think it's funny.
From the gaim homepage:
"Well, life has struck hard on the Gaim camp and we've been too busy with other things to provide with prompt Gaim releases. As such, we've decided to ask your help. Sourceforge has recently implemented a wonderful system for donating to open source projects, but due to internal conflicts among the Gaim development team, we've decided we don't want to implement this. However, if the Gaim project is going to resume the activity level it once saw, we need money. As such, we've moved to an ebay-based system of generating revenue. The developers have decided this is a fair way of generating revenue that will help the project. Our first set of auctions is currently up. Bid now!"
In other news, Tuck should be arriving any time now. He'll be home for the weekend, and it'll be good to see him.
From the gaim homepage:
"Well, life has struck hard on the Gaim camp and we've been too busy with other things to provide with prompt Gaim releases. As such, we've decided to ask your help. Sourceforge has recently implemented a wonderful system for donating to open source projects, but due to internal conflicts among the Gaim development team, we've decided we don't want to implement this. However, if the Gaim project is going to resume the activity level it once saw, we need money. As such, we've moved to an ebay-based system of generating revenue. The developers have decided this is a fair way of generating revenue that will help the project. Our first set of auctions is currently up. Bid now!"
In other news, Tuck should be arriving any time now. He'll be home for the weekend, and it'll be good to see him.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
It seems I gotta start the explaining.
The last post is slightly enigmatic, insofar as it makes it sound like I still have at least one more hurdle to jump before I can go to Japan. I do, indeed, have more hurdles to jump, but they are close to the ground and easy to clear. I have to see a doctor and have a certificate of health form filled out, and get a couple more passport photos (presumably for my visa), and fill out a short packet of information. So long as there aren't any major discrepancies between the certificate of health and the self-assessment medical form I sent with my application in December, and so long as I didn't otherwise lie on my application, I'm in. There won't be, and I didn't, so I am.
It's funny, cos I still think back to the interview and remember the questions I was asked, wishing I'd answered some of them differently. And then I think, Emily. Stop it. You're in. It must have gone all right. Of course, worrying about how my interview went was never productive, but now it's just silly.
After I got the envelope, I spent the next hour and a half calling and e-mailing people, and posting to Big Daikon (and this blog). Spent a good part of yesterday talking to people about it, too. But when I filled out my timesheet today, I knew Cindy was going to ask, and I didn't want her to get super excited, cos she drives me a little nuts.
"So, have you heard anything?"
"Yep." I continued filling out the timesheet.
"And?..." Her voice was already excited.
"I'm going to Japan."
"Oh! I'm so happy for you!" She came around the desk and gave me a hug. So short of lying to her, there probably wasn't anything I could have done to avoid that.
Judging from the posts I've read on Big Daikon, not everyone who's JETing is having such a great time convincing their families that this is what they want to do, and that it's for the best. So I consider myself fortunate that everyone in my family is so supportive. Most of my friends are also really happy for me. The guys down at Vacuum Energy HQ have been somewhat non-responsive, but I know how they feel; I'll miss them, too.
Now I've got to concentrate on learning Japanese.
Old Comments (8)
It's funny, cos I still think back to the interview and remember the questions I was asked, wishing I'd answered some of them differently. And then I think, Emily. Stop it. You're in. It must have gone all right. Of course, worrying about how my interview went was never productive, but now it's just silly.
After I got the envelope, I spent the next hour and a half calling and e-mailing people, and posting to Big Daikon (and this blog). Spent a good part of yesterday talking to people about it, too. But when I filled out my timesheet today, I knew Cindy was going to ask, and I didn't want her to get super excited, cos she drives me a little nuts.
"So, have you heard anything?"
"Yep." I continued filling out the timesheet.
"And?..." Her voice was already excited.
"I'm going to Japan."
"Oh! I'm so happy for you!" She came around the desk and gave me a hug. So short of lying to her, there probably wasn't anything I could have done to avoid that.
Judging from the posts I've read on Big Daikon, not everyone who's JETing is having such a great time convincing their families that this is what they want to do, and that it's for the best. So I consider myself fortunate that everyone in my family is so supportive. Most of my friends are also really happy for me. The guys down at Vacuum Energy HQ have been somewhat non-responsive, but I know how they feel; I'll miss them, too.
Now I've got to concentrate on learning Japanese.
Old Comments (8)
Monday, April 05, 2004
Manila Envelope!
"It is our great pleasure to inform you that you have successfully passed the 2nd stage of the screening process for the 2004 JET Program year and are now on the final short-list for ALT candidates. You are now scheduled for placement in a Contracting Organization, which is possible in almost all cases."
Old Comments (1)
Old Comments (1)
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Public Service Announcement, etc.
A friendly reminder to set your clocks ahead one hour before you go to bed tonight.
I just got back from the Assemblies of God New York Central Section Women's Spring Rally. Whew. Actually, not too bad. This was the first women's ministries event I've ever been to; I keep forgetting I'm old enough now for this stuff. I kind of understood what Mom meant about the "aren't we wonderful?" pat-ourselves-on-the-back mentality. But Margaret Giordano was the speaker, so I knew it would be good.
And so it was. Margaret even called me out. "I have to tell this story," she said. "Emily, where are you?" She was talking about her son David, and to give an idea of how his brain works, she mentioned a time when I was over at their house. David and I had been sitting quietly in the living room while the other kids were getting in their pyjamas. David turned to me and said, "Miss Emily?" (Their kids all call me Miss Emily--I love it.)
"Yes, David?"
He smiled. "Your hair looks like lasagna."
I laughed and laughed. When I told Lou later, he said, "And that is a high compliment from David; he loves lasagna."
All the tables had funny little fake orchid centerpieces. At each table, whoever had the birthday nearest to today could take their centerpiece home. No one at my table (which included five pastors' wives, probably the highest concentration in the whole room) came any closer than me, so it's sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs. I guess I'm kinda glad I won, but I wish they'd had different centerpieces. Lots of people commented on how real it looks, but I knew it was fake as soon as I saw it.
I only wish I'd remembered to get a picture of Margaret with my camera phone. Ah well, I'll see her again sometime.
I just got back from the Assemblies of God New York Central Section Women's Spring Rally. Whew. Actually, not too bad. This was the first women's ministries event I've ever been to; I keep forgetting I'm old enough now for this stuff. I kind of understood what Mom meant about the "aren't we wonderful?" pat-ourselves-on-the-back mentality. But Margaret Giordano was the speaker, so I knew it would be good.
And so it was. Margaret even called me out. "I have to tell this story," she said. "Emily, where are you?" She was talking about her son David, and to give an idea of how his brain works, she mentioned a time when I was over at their house. David and I had been sitting quietly in the living room while the other kids were getting in their pyjamas. David turned to me and said, "Miss Emily?" (Their kids all call me Miss Emily--I love it.)
"Yes, David?"
He smiled. "Your hair looks like lasagna."
I laughed and laughed. When I told Lou later, he said, "And that is a high compliment from David; he loves lasagna."
All the tables had funny little fake orchid centerpieces. At each table, whoever had the birthday nearest to today could take their centerpiece home. No one at my table (which included five pastors' wives, probably the highest concentration in the whole room) came any closer than me, so it's sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs. I guess I'm kinda glad I won, but I wish they'd had different centerpieces. Lots of people commented on how real it looks, but I knew it was fake as soon as I saw it.
I only wish I'd remembered to get a picture of Margaret with my camera phone. Ah well, I'll see her again sometime.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
What's Wrong with This Picture?
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
bluest blue
"My grandfather saw heaven once,
a long time ago.
He couldn't remember anything
about it, or how he found his way
back, only that he was there.
"The day I was born, he held me
and he cried and cried. He said my
eyes were bluest blue,
and they were just like heaven.
"And that was all he ever remembered."
-from a dream I had two nights ago
Old Comments (1)
Thursday, March 25, 2004
A Sad Day
...for a variety of reasons (none of which are terribly tragic).
For one thing, I forgot that Kevin's birthday was Monday. Not that I got a Happy Birthday from him till the day after mine, but you know.
Also, Unilever, makers of Finesse hair care products, as well as a bunch of other stuff, has apparently discontinued their 'styling potion,' of which I have been a consumer for the last two years. That was great stuff: it substituted nicely for conditioner (which takes forever to rinse out of my hair, a process that wastes valuable time and hot water), while keeping the frizzies at bay, more or less, and not stiffening my hair. Now I must begin anew the process of Finding the Right Hair Care Product for Me.
So I stood in CVS for about fifteen minutes tonight trying to choose which ones would be the newest contenders. I finally decided upon L'Oréal Studio FX Aqua Gel, L'Oréal Studio Styling Gel Lasting Curls, and TRESemmé Mousse Extra Hold (the first two were buy one get one free--bonus).
But the coup de grâce? That came when I lost a chess match to Joe in six turns.
Six. Turns.
How does one unintentionally lose a chess game in six turns, you ask? It's fairly easy, if one moves one's king's bishop's pawn (is that what it's called?) out of the starting block, blithely unaware of the gaping hole one has left in one's defences, and continues to make one's next two moves on the queen's side of the board, while one's opponent deftly moves the opposing queen to checkmate.
In an attempt to redeem myself, I accepted Joe's rematch challenge. Though I lost that one as well, it took many turns before my king was mated.
What can I say? I'm a bit rusty. I hadn't played a game of chess in two years, and while I'd won that game, it didn't help that my opponent was nine.
So it's merely the icing on the cake that my banner ad currently reads:
American Standard Toilet
Save on Tools & Hardware here! Simply
Fast Savings
After all, I asked for that one.
Old Comments (1)
For one thing, I forgot that Kevin's birthday was Monday. Not that I got a Happy Birthday from him till the day after mine, but you know.
Also, Unilever, makers of Finesse hair care products, as well as a bunch of other stuff, has apparently discontinued their 'styling potion,' of which I have been a consumer for the last two years. That was great stuff: it substituted nicely for conditioner (which takes forever to rinse out of my hair, a process that wastes valuable time and hot water), while keeping the frizzies at bay, more or less, and not stiffening my hair. Now I must begin anew the process of Finding the Right Hair Care Product for Me.
So I stood in CVS for about fifteen minutes tonight trying to choose which ones would be the newest contenders. I finally decided upon L'Oréal Studio FX Aqua Gel, L'Oréal Studio Styling Gel Lasting Curls, and TRESemmé Mousse Extra Hold (the first two were buy one get one free--bonus).
But the coup de grâce? That came when I lost a chess match to Joe in six turns.
Six. Turns.
How does one unintentionally lose a chess game in six turns, you ask? It's fairly easy, if one moves one's king's bishop's pawn (is that what it's called?) out of the starting block, blithely unaware of the gaping hole one has left in one's defences, and continues to make one's next two moves on the queen's side of the board, while one's opponent deftly moves the opposing queen to checkmate.
In an attempt to redeem myself, I accepted Joe's rematch challenge. Though I lost that one as well, it took many turns before my king was mated.
What can I say? I'm a bit rusty. I hadn't played a game of chess in two years, and while I'd won that game, it didn't help that my opponent was nine.
So it's merely the icing on the cake that my banner ad currently reads:
American Standard Toilet
Save on Tools & Hardware here! Simply
Fast Savings
After all, I asked for that one.
Old Comments (1)
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Even Physicists Make Mistakes

This is what happens when you douse your smouldering candle wick with Fresca while the candle holder is still hot.
Old Comments (19)
Saturday, March 20, 2004
more bathroom humour
I've just been downstairs in an attempt to use the bathroom (for the first time today--slept in late). The first thing I notice is a large plastic bucket full of dirty water in the bathtub. I'd wondered why Dave was hanging out in there a minute before. Then I turn my attention to the toilet. The bottom of the tank is cracked severely--I can see inside it--and it's leaning up against the wall. A wax seal, still packaged, rests on top of the sink, and a few other plumbing supplies are strewn about. I stand staring at it for a few seconds until I realize Dave is in the room behind me. Still incredulous, I ask, "Does the toilet work?"
"No."
Oh terrific. I head back up for my room, trying to figure out where I'm going to take my next pee, which is imminent. Dave comes upstairs to fetch some stuff and says, "Give me... twenty minutes."
Meanwhile, Buffy is harassing me for canned food. She doesn't get fed until 5:30, but the sky is thick with clouds today, so she probably thinks it's later than it is.
Oh, now I get to carry a toilet.
Actually, that wasn't as difficult as I'd thought. Even though Dave's obviously been drinking today, he managed to walk backward down the stairs.
We just happen to have a spare toilet. Since the upstairs bathroom has been in a state of complete renovation for the last 18 months, the toilet designated for that bathroom has been nervously awaiting its destiny in Dad's spacious bedroom, of all places.
Every time there's a song I hear about which I want to find out more, I always manage to come across it again. Last night, it was from a cell phone.
I'd heard this song before--solo piano, very spare and nostalgic--and I heard it most recently several weeks ago at Starbucks. I should have asked them then what music they were playing, but I didn't. So I had nothing to go on, save my foggy recollection of the melody.
Yay! The toilet's back up and running. And just in time: Dad's kinda-friend Marcy just rang the doorbell; she's spending the night in the guest room, cos they're leaving at 4am tomorrow to go to a dance conference, or some such thing, in Boston.
Anyway, back to the song. So Dad's switching cell phone companies. Sprint, I think, is what he's decided. He must have, because I have a new camera phone now, though the service hasn't yet been activated. I was playing around with it last night, checking out the gosh-awful multi-tonal ringers, when I happened upon one that sounded unexpectedly familiar. I realized that this was the same song I'd heard at Starbucks, though it had been, um, unfortunately arranged (meaning it sounds like it should be the end credits theme for a Sega game). So the phone calls this "Satie Gymnop.#1" which means very little to me, so I run a Google search and find out this piece is called "Gymnopédie" (Nos. 1-3) and was written by Erik Satie. Another search leads me to this music sample.
Success!
Dad and I ended up going to Dinosaur Bar-B-Q on Thursday night. We got there at 9:20, and were told the wait was about a half-hour, so we stood at the bar and talked. Dad got a beer, and I decided to be daring and order a Southern Comfort. Yeah, I know--I had no clue. I mean, I knew it was an alcoholic drink. Chris (N, not W) had said it was one of his favourite drinks. So I thought, Hey, Dad's paying, why not?
I promptly found out why not. Yech... it's like peach cough syrup, but thinner. I waited for the ice to melt, and it was still bad. When we got dinner, I mixed a bit of my Sprite with it, and only then did it become remotely palatable. But the pork ribs more than made up for my mistake. Mmm....
Oh, and that "date" Dad had on my birthday? Turns out the woman he was getting set up with goes to my church. I hardly know her. But he didn't enjoy himself, and definitely isn't interested in her, so that's a relief. Relief, because she has four young kids and, I dunno, doesn't really appeal to me as a stepmother.
Hey... today's the first day of spring, isn't it?
Excellent.
"No."
Oh terrific. I head back up for my room, trying to figure out where I'm going to take my next pee, which is imminent. Dave comes upstairs to fetch some stuff and says, "Give me... twenty minutes."
Meanwhile, Buffy is harassing me for canned food. She doesn't get fed until 5:30, but the sky is thick with clouds today, so she probably thinks it's later than it is.
Oh, now I get to carry a toilet.
Actually, that wasn't as difficult as I'd thought. Even though Dave's obviously been drinking today, he managed to walk backward down the stairs.
We just happen to have a spare toilet. Since the upstairs bathroom has been in a state of complete renovation for the last 18 months, the toilet designated for that bathroom has been nervously awaiting its destiny in Dad's spacious bedroom, of all places.
Every time there's a song I hear about which I want to find out more, I always manage to come across it again. Last night, it was from a cell phone.
I'd heard this song before--solo piano, very spare and nostalgic--and I heard it most recently several weeks ago at Starbucks. I should have asked them then what music they were playing, but I didn't. So I had nothing to go on, save my foggy recollection of the melody.
Yay! The toilet's back up and running. And just in time: Dad's kinda-friend Marcy just rang the doorbell; she's spending the night in the guest room, cos they're leaving at 4am tomorrow to go to a dance conference, or some such thing, in Boston.
Anyway, back to the song. So Dad's switching cell phone companies. Sprint, I think, is what he's decided. He must have, because I have a new camera phone now, though the service hasn't yet been activated. I was playing around with it last night, checking out the gosh-awful multi-tonal ringers, when I happened upon one that sounded unexpectedly familiar. I realized that this was the same song I'd heard at Starbucks, though it had been, um, unfortunately arranged (meaning it sounds like it should be the end credits theme for a Sega game). So the phone calls this "Satie Gymnop.#1" which means very little to me, so I run a Google search and find out this piece is called "Gymnopédie" (Nos. 1-3) and was written by Erik Satie. Another search leads me to this music sample.
Success!
Dad and I ended up going to Dinosaur Bar-B-Q on Thursday night. We got there at 9:20, and were told the wait was about a half-hour, so we stood at the bar and talked. Dad got a beer, and I decided to be daring and order a Southern Comfort. Yeah, I know--I had no clue. I mean, I knew it was an alcoholic drink. Chris (N, not W) had said it was one of his favourite drinks. So I thought, Hey, Dad's paying, why not?
I promptly found out why not. Yech... it's like peach cough syrup, but thinner. I waited for the ice to melt, and it was still bad. When we got dinner, I mixed a bit of my Sprite with it, and only then did it become remotely palatable. But the pork ribs more than made up for my mistake. Mmm....
Oh, and that "date" Dad had on my birthday? Turns out the woman he was getting set up with goes to my church. I hardly know her. But he didn't enjoy himself, and definitely isn't interested in her, so that's a relief. Relief, because she has four young kids and, I dunno, doesn't really appeal to me as a stepmother.
Hey... today's the first day of spring, isn't it?
Excellent.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Awful busy in June...
One conversation that took place yesterday in the lab went something like this:
[Scott and Joe exchange furtive glances and murmur half sentences to each other]
Joe: It has recently come to my attention that today marks the anniversary of the birth of someone known, and known well, to members of this lab. That's right: on this day was born Daniel Patrick Moynihan.
Me: Oh! Really?
Joe: Yes.
Scott: I call for a moment of silence in memory of our dear departed former senator.
[moment of silence]
Me: So, we're going to Chili's?
Other famous people born yesterday (so to speak) include:
I got a card with a check from Poppa and Nana, and an Action Cat e-mail card from Mom and Kreg, asking when I'd next be in town, and if I'd rather receive my gift when I visit, or through the mail. Elisa sent me an e-mail card, too, and Bianca called (and left a message) and invited me to dinner at her place tonight. I also received myriad Happy Birthdays from the folks on Flickr; yay! Dad's taking me out to dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us, after his dance class. I told him to wait on getting me a gift; if I end up going to Japan, I'll ask him for luggage. If not, I think I'll as him for finches.
So I went to Bianca and Elisa's apartment for dinner tonight. Elisa's brother Nate is visiting from Oral Robert's University; Mike and Amy Danial arrived a half-hour after I got there, and Kevin came by shortly after that with Jamaican food. Chicken or oxtail, with some very tasty rice and beans; the portions were large, and I wasn't able to finish mine, so I brought the rest home with me. For dessert we had Bianca's famous cheesecake. Yum... I think I'm set for the week.
We got into a conversation about how often each of us calls our respective mothers. Elisa talks to her mom in Tacoma, WA every day. Her brother calls home once a week, though their mom would like him to call more often. Bianca calls home every one or two days. Kevin and I thought this frequency was somewhat excessive. But I know I don't call home as much as I should.
"Um, I called my mom on her birthday [in January]."
"What?!" Bianca said, "that's it? Emily...."
"I know! I know!"
So Mom, I won't make any promises, but I'll try to call more often."
And as I'm staring at my blog wondering what's causing the "Error on page," I notice that my banner ad reads:
Related searches: • blogger • daughter
Old Comments (4)
[Scott and Joe exchange furtive glances and murmur half sentences to each other]
Joe: It has recently come to my attention that today marks the anniversary of the birth of someone known, and known well, to members of this lab. That's right: on this day was born Daniel Patrick Moynihan.
Me: Oh! Really?
Joe: Yes.
Scott: I call for a moment of silence in memory of our dear departed former senator.
[moment of silence]
Me: So, we're going to Chili's?
Other famous people born yesterday (so to speak) include:
- James Madison, 1751
- Jerry Lewis, 1926
- Chuck Woolery, 1940
- Erik Estrada, 1949
I got a card with a check from Poppa and Nana, and an Action Cat e-mail card from Mom and Kreg, asking when I'd next be in town, and if I'd rather receive my gift when I visit, or through the mail. Elisa sent me an e-mail card, too, and Bianca called (and left a message) and invited me to dinner at her place tonight. I also received myriad Happy Birthdays from the folks on Flickr; yay! Dad's taking me out to dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us, after his dance class. I told him to wait on getting me a gift; if I end up going to Japan, I'll ask him for luggage. If not, I think I'll as him for finches.
So I went to Bianca and Elisa's apartment for dinner tonight. Elisa's brother Nate is visiting from Oral Robert's University; Mike and Amy Danial arrived a half-hour after I got there, and Kevin came by shortly after that with Jamaican food. Chicken or oxtail, with some very tasty rice and beans; the portions were large, and I wasn't able to finish mine, so I brought the rest home with me. For dessert we had Bianca's famous cheesecake. Yum... I think I'm set for the week.
We got into a conversation about how often each of us calls our respective mothers. Elisa talks to her mom in Tacoma, WA every day. Her brother calls home once a week, though their mom would like him to call more often. Bianca calls home every one or two days. Kevin and I thought this frequency was somewhat excessive. But I know I don't call home as much as I should.
"Um, I called my mom on her birthday [in January]."
"What?!" Bianca said, "that's it? Emily...."
"I know! I know!"
So Mom, I won't make any promises, but I'll try to call more often."
And as I'm staring at my blog wondering what's causing the "Error on page," I notice that my banner ad reads:
Related searches: • blogger • daughter
Old Comments (4)
Monday, March 15, 2004
warm fuzzies
Tomorrow's my birthday. Dad said to me today, "I'm going out to dinner tomorrow night with a couple people I know. You want to come?"
"Who are you going with?"
"Oh, so'n'so, and whatsherface [I wasn't really paying attention at this point], you know, from the youth group your mom and I had."
"Uh, your youth group? If I was even alive at that point, I was an infant, so no, I don't remember."
"Well, do you want to come? It is your birthday tomorrow."
"Umm, erm, well, ehh...."
"You? Turning down dinner?"
"Ah, well, um, uhh...."
"Just tell me if you're not interested."
"I'm not interested."
"So, No, then."
"No."
Truth is, as he told me later, one of his dinner dates is trying to set him up with the other; that's why he wants me along, so it doesn't feel so much like a set-up.
That's Dad: Always thinking of me.
"Who are you going with?"
"Oh, so'n'so, and whatsherface [I wasn't really paying attention at this point], you know, from the youth group your mom and I had."
"Uh, your youth group? If I was even alive at that point, I was an infant, so no, I don't remember."
"Well, do you want to come? It is your birthday tomorrow."
"Umm, erm, well, ehh...."
"You? Turning down dinner?"
"Ah, well, um, uhh...."
"Just tell me if you're not interested."
"I'm not interested."
"So, No, then."
"No."
Truth is, as he told me later, one of his dinner dates is trying to set him up with the other; that's why he wants me along, so it doesn't feel so much like a set-up.
That's Dad: Always thinking of me.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
non sequitur
“I am happy to report that the Thought Screen Helmet has been performing beautifully! It’s been over six months now and NOT ONE INCIDENT! Aside from some of the naive neighborhood kids and their taunting it’s been a blissful period.”
Friday, March 12, 2004
Short post.
Lots of skunks stumbling out of hibernation in the last month. I can relate: I tend to be somewhat bumblesome when I first wake up in the morning. But I stay in the house, so I don't wander into the street, get hit by a car, and release my noxious gases into the neighbourhood.
zefrank.com has made me laugh out loud several times tonight, and I haven't come close to exploring his entire site.
Weapons of Mass Destruction
Good night, everybody!
zefrank.com has made me laugh out loud several times tonight, and I haven't come close to exploring his entire site.
Weapons of Mass Destruction
Good night, everybody!
Monday, March 08, 2004
What a difference a day makes.
Can someone please explain to me the necessity of a "winter weather advisory"?
Be prepared for winterlike conditions, which may include, but are not limited to, freezing temperatures and measurable snowfall. Roads may become icy, and outer extremities may become frostbitten if not properly covered. Put a coat on; you're making us cold.
Oh, wait, I actually do have something of import to blog: Aunt Beth is getting married. April 17th, I think. I'd known this for a month or two when I was talking to my brother online a couple of days ago.
Me: Hey, you know Aunt Beth is getting married, right?
Tuck: WHHHHAAAATTTT?????
Me: Oh. Yeah. She is.
Tuck: To who?
Me: You remember two or three years ago when she came to visit, and that guy was with her, and his two daughters?
Tuck: Wow.
I guess this is another benefit of living at home: I get all the family news pretty much as it happens. I've had to inform Tucker over IM about Dan and La splitting up, and Jonathan leaving Christiane--that sucked. Dag, it's like everyone in our family is getting divorced.
I talked to Beth on the phone a few days ago when she called for Dad and he wasn't home. On the subject of whether I would be attending the wedding or not, she said, "It would be great if you could come, but if you can't, I understand." So that's cool. I've never been out to visit the West Coast contingent of the clan, so I just might go. Dad wants me to find out if I can get round-trip plane tickets for $200 each on Priceline. I don't think it's gonna happen, though maybe $250/ea. before taxes, etc. JetBlue has tickets from between Syracuse and Seattle for $154 each way. I'd be attempting right now to find supercool airfares on Priceline, 'cept I need the full names of all the passengers, and I don't know my grandmother's or my uncle's middle initials.
Holy crap. $2,500 round-trip between Tokyo and Syracuse (departing Tokyo).
Wait... if I set the return date from January 4th to January 5th, then the price drops to $950.
Golly.
Be prepared for winterlike conditions, which may include, but are not limited to, freezing temperatures and measurable snowfall. Roads may become icy, and outer extremities may become frostbitten if not properly covered. Put a coat on; you're making us cold.
Oh, wait, I actually do have something of import to blog: Aunt Beth is getting married. April 17th, I think. I'd known this for a month or two when I was talking to my brother online a couple of days ago.
Me: Hey, you know Aunt Beth is getting married, right?
Tuck: WHHHHAAAATTTT?????
Me: Oh. Yeah. She is.
Tuck: To who?
Me: You remember two or three years ago when she came to visit, and that guy was with her, and his two daughters?
Tuck: Wow.
I guess this is another benefit of living at home: I get all the family news pretty much as it happens. I've had to inform Tucker over IM about Dan and La splitting up, and Jonathan leaving Christiane--that sucked. Dag, it's like everyone in our family is getting divorced.
I talked to Beth on the phone a few days ago when she called for Dad and he wasn't home. On the subject of whether I would be attending the wedding or not, she said, "It would be great if you could come, but if you can't, I understand." So that's cool. I've never been out to visit the West Coast contingent of the clan, so I just might go. Dad wants me to find out if I can get round-trip plane tickets for $200 each on Priceline. I don't think it's gonna happen, though maybe $250/ea. before taxes, etc. JetBlue has tickets from between Syracuse and Seattle for $154 each way. I'd be attempting right now to find supercool airfares on Priceline, 'cept I need the full names of all the passengers, and I don't know my grandmother's or my uncle's middle initials.
Holy crap. $2,500 round-trip between Tokyo and Syracuse (departing Tokyo).
Wait... if I set the return date from January 4th to January 5th, then the price drops to $950.
Golly.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
...blogger, blogger, blogger, mushroom! mushroom!
Oh, Scott. Magnanimity never was your strong suit.
I was very happy, last Thursday, when I discovered a pair of used chemistry books for sale at Follett's Orange Bookstore.
During my first semester of college, back when I still thought I was going to go pre-med, I took Chemistry 106. The required books for the class consisted of a textbook, a large workbook, and three other small items--I think one was a CD. They all came shrink-wrapped together. At the end of the semester, I resold these books back to the SU Bookstore. Actually, I sold only the textbook and workbook--for $15 and $2 respectively--because the bookstore wouldn't buy back the other three (even though all of them had originally been purchased together as one item). Why did I sell them back, even for such a paltry sum? What can I say... I was a freshman, and I thought that reselling ones books at the semester's end was simply what was done. One month later, I regretted it, and have regretted it ever since.
So what did I find, last Thursday, but two of the same books I had sold five years ago. I couldn't tell if they were the very same ones I had used, though they may well have been, considering they looked as if they'd hardly been used (Reasons Why I Reconsidered Going to Medical School). And what did the pair of them cost? Five dollars. Five dollars! I bought them on the spot, and have added them to my collection of Books to Which I Will Refer Twice Every Decade.
Another, completely unrelated, story: Dave and I, from time to time, enter into an arrangement whereby I will call a local pizza shop or Chinese restaurant and order food for him and me to be delivered, and then he pays for it. As far as I'm concerned, the worst part of this arrangement is dealing with Dave, but I get free food. I don't know what his motivation is. Last weekend, Dave decided that we should have pizza. I was up for that. So I thought to call Johnny's Pizza, down the street at Drumlins. But Dave says that he wants to make the call. Why? I ask him. "Because you don't know how to argue, and I can." Argue what? I wonder aloud, but I get no answer. He makes the call.
"Hey, this is Dave Holaway, down here at 927 Thus'n'such. You guys hooked me up with a pie a while back. It was [looking at paper where I had written down the toppings to be ordered] half everything including anchovies, and half...
[pause]
What, no anchovies? [speaking to the air] Honey, uh, not this place? [to the phone] No, she's looking at me like I'm an idiot. Guess I'm not getting any tonight. [laughs] Okay, so that's half everything, no anchovies, and half pepperoni and mushrooms. Now, you can put some extra on there, right? You know what I'm saying? If it costs two-three dollars more. Put a little extra on there.... Holaway. Can you believe it, an Irish man married to an Italian woman.... Half an hour? Okay."
He gets off the phone and says, "See how I talked myself out of that one?" And I'm thinking, Yeah, if you hadn't talked yourself into it in the first place....
So a half an hour comes and goes. Dave is pacing a hole in the living room floor, he's so hungry. I guess he thought the guy had said it would be forty-five minutes, cos he waits until it's been almost an hour before he tells me to call them back. So I do. "I'm calling from 927 Thus'n'such Drive. We ordered a pizza from you fifty-five minutes ago, and we're wondering what's happened to it." The guy on the phone asks someone else, then comes back and says, "We don't have any orders for that address. Are you sure you called this store?" I said, "Johnny's. Down by Peter's. Yeah, we used the same number both times." At this point, Dave wants to do the talking, and I'm just curious enough to see what he's gonna do to let him do it. So he gets on and starts talking--I don't know what he's talking. He's like, "Yo, what's up? What's goin' on?" but hokier than you can imagine. So he continues bantering on in this manner, 'cept he's pissed that the pizza's so late. I guess what happened was that he hadn't made it clear that he wanted the pizza delivered, so it was still at the parlour waiting to be picked up. When he gets off the phone, he says something about his "Italian accent." I'm thinking, That was an Italian accent?
Joe, you just can't win: Currently your banner ad reads
Support Same-Sex Marriage
Lapel pins, jewelry & stickers that
promote gay pride & civil rights
as well as
Iraq- Winning the Peace
Read John Kerry's Plan The Right Choice
for President
Mine are almost invariably about blogs and website design and hosting, with the occasional reference to Japan. And recently "golf lessons" has appeared on Scott's banner ad, along with the inexplicable "Wedding Anniversary Gifts."
The Vacuum Cleaner Game
Darth Vader: Man of Prayer
Goodnight everybody!
I was very happy, last Thursday, when I discovered a pair of used chemistry books for sale at Follett's Orange Bookstore.
During my first semester of college, back when I still thought I was going to go pre-med, I took Chemistry 106. The required books for the class consisted of a textbook, a large workbook, and three other small items--I think one was a CD. They all came shrink-wrapped together. At the end of the semester, I resold these books back to the SU Bookstore. Actually, I sold only the textbook and workbook--for $15 and $2 respectively--because the bookstore wouldn't buy back the other three (even though all of them had originally been purchased together as one item). Why did I sell them back, even for such a paltry sum? What can I say... I was a freshman, and I thought that reselling ones books at the semester's end was simply what was done. One month later, I regretted it, and have regretted it ever since.
So what did I find, last Thursday, but two of the same books I had sold five years ago. I couldn't tell if they were the very same ones I had used, though they may well have been, considering they looked as if they'd hardly been used (Reasons Why I Reconsidered Going to Medical School). And what did the pair of them cost? Five dollars. Five dollars! I bought them on the spot, and have added them to my collection of Books to Which I Will Refer Twice Every Decade.
Another, completely unrelated, story: Dave and I, from time to time, enter into an arrangement whereby I will call a local pizza shop or Chinese restaurant and order food for him and me to be delivered, and then he pays for it. As far as I'm concerned, the worst part of this arrangement is dealing with Dave, but I get free food. I don't know what his motivation is. Last weekend, Dave decided that we should have pizza. I was up for that. So I thought to call Johnny's Pizza, down the street at Drumlins. But Dave says that he wants to make the call. Why? I ask him. "Because you don't know how to argue, and I can." Argue what? I wonder aloud, but I get no answer. He makes the call.
"Hey, this is Dave Holaway, down here at 927 Thus'n'such. You guys hooked me up with a pie a while back. It was [looking at paper where I had written down the toppings to be ordered] half everything including anchovies, and half...
[pause]
What, no anchovies? [speaking to the air] Honey, uh, not this place? [to the phone] No, she's looking at me like I'm an idiot. Guess I'm not getting any tonight. [laughs] Okay, so that's half everything, no anchovies, and half pepperoni and mushrooms. Now, you can put some extra on there, right? You know what I'm saying? If it costs two-three dollars more. Put a little extra on there.... Holaway. Can you believe it, an Irish man married to an Italian woman.... Half an hour? Okay."
He gets off the phone and says, "See how I talked myself out of that one?" And I'm thinking, Yeah, if you hadn't talked yourself into it in the first place....
So a half an hour comes and goes. Dave is pacing a hole in the living room floor, he's so hungry. I guess he thought the guy had said it would be forty-five minutes, cos he waits until it's been almost an hour before he tells me to call them back. So I do. "I'm calling from 927 Thus'n'such Drive. We ordered a pizza from you fifty-five minutes ago, and we're wondering what's happened to it." The guy on the phone asks someone else, then comes back and says, "We don't have any orders for that address. Are you sure you called this store?" I said, "Johnny's. Down by Peter's. Yeah, we used the same number both times." At this point, Dave wants to do the talking, and I'm just curious enough to see what he's gonna do to let him do it. So he gets on and starts talking--I don't know what he's talking. He's like, "Yo, what's up? What's goin' on?" but hokier than you can imagine. So he continues bantering on in this manner, 'cept he's pissed that the pizza's so late. I guess what happened was that he hadn't made it clear that he wanted the pizza delivered, so it was still at the parlour waiting to be picked up. When he gets off the phone, he says something about his "Italian accent." I'm thinking, That was an Italian accent?
Joe, you just can't win: Currently your banner ad reads
Support Same-Sex Marriage
Lapel pins, jewelry & stickers that
promote gay pride & civil rights
as well as
Iraq- Winning the Peace
Read John Kerry's Plan The Right Choice
for President
Mine are almost invariably about blogs and website design and hosting, with the occasional reference to Japan. And recently "golf lessons" has appeared on Scott's banner ad, along with the inexplicable "Wedding Anniversary Gifts."
The Vacuum Cleaner Game
Darth Vader: Man of Prayer
Goodnight everybody!
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
The Passion Bandwagon
Well, I've finally finished Atlas Shrugged. And boy are my arms tired.
I'll share something I find interesting from the John Galt speech (p1029, softcover edition):
If a mother buys food for her hungry child rather than a hat for herself, it is not a sacrifice: she values the child higher than the hat; but it is a sacrifice to the kind of mother whose higher value is the hat, who would prefer her child to starve and feeds him only from a sense of duty. If a man dies fighting for his own freedom, it is not a sacrifice: he is not willing to live as a slave; but it is a sacrifice to the kind of man who's willing.
I saw The Passion of the Christ last Thursday. In light of that movie, I found this quote very interesting. If Ayn Rand hadn't considered the death of Christ to be a cosmic waste of time, literature, and intellect, she might have said that his death wasn't a sacrifice: He simply gave up something good for something better.
I'd have to agree.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.
-Hebrews 12.2-4
The Passion is aptly named, because it gives little back story, concentrating solely on Jesus' death. He performs one miracle at the beginning of the movie, and otherwise demonstrates how a good man might die well. Oh, and a bunch of guys beat the crap out of him. Frankly, I've seen secular films that were more inspiring that this.
The death of Jesus, in isolation, is meaningless. Most of the people who have ever lived have also died, and many of them unjustly. In one scene, while Jesus stumbles under the weight of his cross, his mother runs up to him to offer what small comfort she can. He takes her face in his hand and says, "See Mother, I make all things new!"
But we don't see. The resurrection is limited to the last 45 seconds of the film, rendered anticlimactic, far more subdued than the brutal beating we watched for the previous two hours.
And those beatings were only a mosquito bite compared to the real suffering Jesus endured that could never be captured on film: the separation of himself from the Father. Judas' guilt drove him to suicide; imagine such a guilt magnified billions of times, and one might come close to understanding the burden placed on Jesus.
So what is the point? The passage from Hebrews explains it well: my knowledge of the suffering of Jesus keeps my own life in perspective. I put up with some crap from time to time, and some of it has been my own fault--but it's nothing compared to what Jesus had to put up with... if "put up with" is even an appropriate phrase. This point is alighted upon in one of the movie's flashback scenes, when Jesus tells his disciples that they ought not expect better treatment than what he will receive.
And for those who haven't been keeping score, the Jews didn't kill Jesus. The Romans didn't kill Jesus. We did, insofar as our sin necessitated his death. I didn't encounter the idea of the Jews as a race being responsible for Jesus' death until I was in college, and at the time I thought it was quite silly. I take it more seriously now, in the realization that others take it very seriously; it's still nonsense, though.
But I digress. What was my original point? Oh, yes.
Apart from reminding myself that I shouldn't expect to get off any easier than Jesus did, I really don't see the point of dwelling on his death. "He suffered. Oh, he suffered. Look how much he suffered. He did it for you, too." Meh. Am I forever thankful? Lord, yes. But can we move on? He rose from the dead! I don't have to live by every whim of my desperately wicked heart. I can get all up in God's grill, so to speak. And you know why he died? Because he wanted to. We are the joy set before him, those who will accept his payment and embrace the freedom he gave us.
As a born-again Christian, I understood the meaning behind Jesus' statement, "I make all things new." But I also recognized that anyone who didn't have at least a familiarity with the New Testament Scripture would find that scene highly ironic, at best. So that's my major gripe with the movie: context, context, context. Context.
I'll share something I find interesting from the John Galt speech (p1029, softcover edition):
If a mother buys food for her hungry child rather than a hat for herself, it is not a sacrifice: she values the child higher than the hat; but it is a sacrifice to the kind of mother whose higher value is the hat, who would prefer her child to starve and feeds him only from a sense of duty. If a man dies fighting for his own freedom, it is not a sacrifice: he is not willing to live as a slave; but it is a sacrifice to the kind of man who's willing.
I saw The Passion of the Christ last Thursday. In light of that movie, I found this quote very interesting. If Ayn Rand hadn't considered the death of Christ to be a cosmic waste of time, literature, and intellect, she might have said that his death wasn't a sacrifice: He simply gave up something good for something better.
I'd have to agree.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.
-Hebrews 12.2-4
The Passion is aptly named, because it gives little back story, concentrating solely on Jesus' death. He performs one miracle at the beginning of the movie, and otherwise demonstrates how a good man might die well. Oh, and a bunch of guys beat the crap out of him. Frankly, I've seen secular films that were more inspiring that this.
The death of Jesus, in isolation, is meaningless. Most of the people who have ever lived have also died, and many of them unjustly. In one scene, while Jesus stumbles under the weight of his cross, his mother runs up to him to offer what small comfort she can. He takes her face in his hand and says, "See Mother, I make all things new!"
But we don't see. The resurrection is limited to the last 45 seconds of the film, rendered anticlimactic, far more subdued than the brutal beating we watched for the previous two hours.
And those beatings were only a mosquito bite compared to the real suffering Jesus endured that could never be captured on film: the separation of himself from the Father. Judas' guilt drove him to suicide; imagine such a guilt magnified billions of times, and one might come close to understanding the burden placed on Jesus.
So what is the point? The passage from Hebrews explains it well: my knowledge of the suffering of Jesus keeps my own life in perspective. I put up with some crap from time to time, and some of it has been my own fault--but it's nothing compared to what Jesus had to put up with... if "put up with" is even an appropriate phrase. This point is alighted upon in one of the movie's flashback scenes, when Jesus tells his disciples that they ought not expect better treatment than what he will receive.
And for those who haven't been keeping score, the Jews didn't kill Jesus. The Romans didn't kill Jesus. We did, insofar as our sin necessitated his death. I didn't encounter the idea of the Jews as a race being responsible for Jesus' death until I was in college, and at the time I thought it was quite silly. I take it more seriously now, in the realization that others take it very seriously; it's still nonsense, though.
But I digress. What was my original point? Oh, yes.
Apart from reminding myself that I shouldn't expect to get off any easier than Jesus did, I really don't see the point of dwelling on his death. "He suffered. Oh, he suffered. Look how much he suffered. He did it for you, too." Meh. Am I forever thankful? Lord, yes. But can we move on? He rose from the dead! I don't have to live by every whim of my desperately wicked heart. I can get all up in God's grill, so to speak. And you know why he died? Because he wanted to. We are the joy set before him, those who will accept his payment and embrace the freedom he gave us.
As a born-again Christian, I understood the meaning behind Jesus' statement, "I make all things new." But I also recognized that anyone who didn't have at least a familiarity with the New Testament Scripture would find that scene highly ironic, at best. So that's my major gripe with the movie: context, context, context. Context.
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