This morning I was driving to work and, as I got in the car, noticed the song that had been running in my head earlier in the morning was now on the radio at about the point that was cycling in my memory. The next song that came up next was "Let's here it for the boy" from Footloose, which I realized as I drove down the road I know every word. Put this on top of "Bust A Move" by Young MC, all the hymns and songs from 1890 to 1960s I need to know from hospice, and you get just a glimpse into the repertoire that runs through my brain. So sad, so sad. There has to be something better that could take up that space, at least where "Bust A Move" is concerned. If only there were a recycle bin in my brain. I'll bet I could have a significant finding that would benefit mankind if I could simply erase the really unimportant knowledge I possess.
Maybe that's why my dad wants me to try to go on the "Singing Bee." Will I do it? Nah
happy music to you
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
And so it begins, without me
Monday is going to be strange for me. This will officially be the first time Fall classes have started at the University and I will not be participating. January didn't feel like this. Maybe it's because I was still working on my paper and felt as though I was taking an independent study. Maybe it had something to do with the second semester; it didn't feel very different. Perhaps it's all been a transition; a slow transition from student to professional, from part-time to full-time. I don't know. All I do know is that my schedule will be the same every day, 7:30-4:30 but without homework, finals, or projects.
I don't think I'm going to miss taking classes, stressing over exams or trying to figure out different professors' ways of teaching, testing, etc. I don't think I'll miss it at all. I feel like it's time I step in a different direction at least for now. I'm still pondering the PhD or perhaps a Fulbright's in my future. My only challenge in remembering what day it is now that everyone's work schedule has changed. Eh, if that's all I have to stress about, I'm doing pretty darn good. :)
peace, love and no homework
I don't think I'm going to miss taking classes, stressing over exams or trying to figure out different professors' ways of teaching, testing, etc. I don't think I'll miss it at all. I feel like it's time I step in a different direction at least for now. I'm still pondering the PhD or perhaps a Fulbright's in my future. My only challenge in remembering what day it is now that everyone's work schedule has changed. Eh, if that's all I have to stress about, I'm doing pretty darn good. :)
peace, love and no homework
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
"Papa Bear" scares me
We have an ice cream truck that travels daily through our neighborhood. Like all ice cream trucks I've ever known, it has various musical selections playing over a loudspeaker that sound very much like a calliope. This truck is different from any other truck I've ever heard in the repertoire that is chosen to call children like the Pied Piper. Actually, the music is pretty scary sometimes, especially in terms of flowing from one song to the next.
Allow me to illustrate with a sample of songs played (sometimes in this particular order):
Old MacDonald (not sure how many animals are on the farm)
Jingle Bells (in June, July or August--I guess they keep Christmas year round)
The Yellow Rose of Texas
A Time for Us (from "Romeo and Juliet")--not what I would call a particularly happy song
Happy Birthday (it's someone's birthday every day)
Oh Suzanna
If you catch the flow of it, you'll notice there is no flow and not all of the songs are what I would call "appropriate." There are actually times that I miss the repetitive music of "The Entertainer" without the bridge or ending, brace yourself, that used to play in the 'hood. (Yes, I said it, but only that. And even then that made me crazy because I'd have to sing the next part in my head so I wouldn't go insane.) At least that made a little more sense than random songs played in no specific fashion. I'm waiting for "Laura's Song" from Dr. Zhivago or maybe "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story to be followed by something like "The March to the Gallows." Then the scary music circle would be complete. For now, I'm just perplexed and a little amused by the randomness of music that is believed to attract the small ones like moths to a flame...Oh and the name of the ice cream truck is "Papa Bear."
Allow me to illustrate with a sample of songs played (sometimes in this particular order):
Old MacDonald (not sure how many animals are on the farm)
Jingle Bells (in June, July or August--I guess they keep Christmas year round)
The Yellow Rose of Texas
A Time for Us (from "Romeo and Juliet")--not what I would call a particularly happy song
Happy Birthday (it's someone's birthday every day)
Oh Suzanna
If you catch the flow of it, you'll notice there is no flow and not all of the songs are what I would call "appropriate." There are actually times that I miss the repetitive music of "The Entertainer" without the bridge or ending, brace yourself, that used to play in the 'hood. (Yes, I said it, but only that. And even then that made me crazy because I'd have to sing the next part in my head so I wouldn't go insane.) At least that made a little more sense than random songs played in no specific fashion. I'm waiting for "Laura's Song" from Dr. Zhivago or maybe "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story to be followed by something like "The March to the Gallows." Then the scary music circle would be complete. For now, I'm just perplexed and a little amused by the randomness of music that is believed to attract the small ones like moths to a flame...Oh and the name of the ice cream truck is "Papa Bear."
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Ah, good friends
It's about time for me to write a post that's not grumpy or unhappy in any way. Dinner last night was much fun.
good people+ good food+good drinks=happy fun times
Last night we definitely had all 3. Matt and I met up with some great Oto people. One of my favorite former-Oto people has come to town for a visit, which necessitates an excellent meal full of witicisms and laughter. Mission accomplished. Despite my tendency to wither around 10 o'clock, I was not ready to stop the fun of the evening, especially since mint mojitos were $2.50 after 9. Unfortunately some of the attendees could not stay after the meal, which left me and Matt, Molly and my buddy BTK (who showed up later) to do the damage. Down we headed to the basement/bar area. We enjoyed many fruity beverages and mocked some of the screaming drunk dudes. Now I know that 3 mint mojitos takes me to a higher level of "happiness" that I haven't experienced in quite a while. Yet, by midnight, I was ready to turn into a pumpkin...actually more like a jack-o-lantern by virtue of the perpetual smile, which stayed with me most of the day even when my intellect did not. I forgot how much fun chilling with friends while drinking alcohol can be. Maybe it's because there were equal numbers of men and women and excellent conversation.
Cheers!
good people+ good food+good drinks=happy fun times
Last night we definitely had all 3. Matt and I met up with some great Oto people. One of my favorite former-Oto people has come to town for a visit, which necessitates an excellent meal full of witicisms and laughter. Mission accomplished. Despite my tendency to wither around 10 o'clock, I was not ready to stop the fun of the evening, especially since mint mojitos were $2.50 after 9. Unfortunately some of the attendees could not stay after the meal, which left me and Matt, Molly and my buddy BTK (who showed up later) to do the damage. Down we headed to the basement/bar area. We enjoyed many fruity beverages and mocked some of the screaming drunk dudes. Now I know that 3 mint mojitos takes me to a higher level of "happiness" that I haven't experienced in quite a while. Yet, by midnight, I was ready to turn into a pumpkin...actually more like a jack-o-lantern by virtue of the perpetual smile, which stayed with me most of the day even when my intellect did not. I forgot how much fun chilling with friends while drinking alcohol can be. Maybe it's because there were equal numbers of men and women and excellent conversation.
Cheers!
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Hey, you! Get out of my bubble!
I think I have a target on me this week. There must be something in the air that says, "Hey, I don't mind you invading my space. C'mon over!" It's not just one day; one day I can handle, but every single day this week (and it's only Wednesday). Monday and Tuesday's invasions were Cambus edition, as is usually the case when you put large quantities of people into a small, moving space. Yet, there are precautions I like to take to keep people out of my bubble, when possible. Monday morning was the worst, so far, with a trifecta of bubble invasion (physical, auditory and olfactory).
There is a woman who rides the bus to work every morning at the same time I do. Somehow she always manages to have her cell phone glued to her head. These conversations are usually regarding horses or tack. While I do my darndest to avoid listening, at that volume, it's hard to miss.
Anyway, back to Monday. It was another day of cell phone glue. With my luck, horselady was on my bus and ended up sitting right beside me. Actually, she sat on part of me and I moved. Then once we were both spacially separated (by an inch), she began bouncing her legs fevershly, shaking my seat. Of course, the cell phone conversation continued. But the third invasion of my bubble, and definitely the worst, is that she smelled like vomit and she was on her way to work. Ewwww. So as soon as that bus stopped, I bolted for the door and could still hear her talking 25 feet behind me.
Tuesday was another bus day. Only this one was partially my fault. I got on the bus that indicated it was going my way. What I failed to notice was that once I got on, the sign was changed and I ended up riding the nearly empty bus the entire opposite route until it looped back to its original position chocked full of International students. While I respect other cultures, the only thing I wish other cultures would respect about America is the use of deodorant on a regular basis. Worse yet, the guy who forced himself into the now very small space between me and another person, forced open his book to read in the now significantly smaller space, smelled of cigarettes. It wasn't recent smoke; no, it was the dingy I've smoked for 30 years scent.
Today's space did not take place on the bus, but in another small, cramped space--the elevator. After a super-fun lunch with BTK and Molly-fabulous, we hopped onto the elevator to head back to work. The next floor we hit caused an influx of about 8 very loud women, followed by a stop on a floor where housekeeping was waiting, but did not get on. One of the VL women made a comment about a lot of mops which resulted in, as BTK put it, a sonic boom of laughter from one particularly loud lady--twice. The next floor, a woman and what I perceived to be her husband carrying a flower. One of the VL ladies commented on the flower; I looked and may have made a polite smile because the man began talking to the other ladies, but reached up and touched my arm. Dude! Do not touch me uninvited! EVER!! Especially if you haven't known me for less than 15 seconds, if you don't know my name, and if I don't initiate any sort of interaction that would prompt you to touch me. NEVER! I freaked out (internally) and waited until we could make our exit. Once I got over the heeby-jeebies, 15 minutes later, rinsed my arms and hands with antibacterial goop, I moved on. But geez, people, stay out of my bubble!
In happy news, I get to hang out with wonderful people tonight for some excellent food (and beverages).
There is a woman who rides the bus to work every morning at the same time I do. Somehow she always manages to have her cell phone glued to her head. These conversations are usually regarding horses or tack. While I do my darndest to avoid listening, at that volume, it's hard to miss.
Anyway, back to Monday. It was another day of cell phone glue. With my luck, horselady was on my bus and ended up sitting right beside me. Actually, she sat on part of me and I moved. Then once we were both spacially separated (by an inch), she began bouncing her legs fevershly, shaking my seat. Of course, the cell phone conversation continued. But the third invasion of my bubble, and definitely the worst, is that she smelled like vomit and she was on her way to work. Ewwww. So as soon as that bus stopped, I bolted for the door and could still hear her talking 25 feet behind me.
Tuesday was another bus day. Only this one was partially my fault. I got on the bus that indicated it was going my way. What I failed to notice was that once I got on, the sign was changed and I ended up riding the nearly empty bus the entire opposite route until it looped back to its original position chocked full of International students. While I respect other cultures, the only thing I wish other cultures would respect about America is the use of deodorant on a regular basis. Worse yet, the guy who forced himself into the now very small space between me and another person, forced open his book to read in the now significantly smaller space, smelled of cigarettes. It wasn't recent smoke; no, it was the dingy I've smoked for 30 years scent.
Today's space did not take place on the bus, but in another small, cramped space--the elevator. After a super-fun lunch with BTK and Molly-fabulous, we hopped onto the elevator to head back to work. The next floor we hit caused an influx of about 8 very loud women, followed by a stop on a floor where housekeeping was waiting, but did not get on. One of the VL women made a comment about a lot of mops which resulted in, as BTK put it, a sonic boom of laughter from one particularly loud lady--twice. The next floor, a woman and what I perceived to be her husband carrying a flower. One of the VL ladies commented on the flower; I looked and may have made a polite smile because the man began talking to the other ladies, but reached up and touched my arm. Dude! Do not touch me uninvited! EVER!! Especially if you haven't known me for less than 15 seconds, if you don't know my name, and if I don't initiate any sort of interaction that would prompt you to touch me. NEVER! I freaked out (internally) and waited until we could make our exit. Once I got over the heeby-jeebies, 15 minutes later, rinsed my arms and hands with antibacterial goop, I moved on. But geez, people, stay out of my bubble!
In happy news, I get to hang out with wonderful people tonight for some excellent food (and beverages).
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