I just wrote my first 2002 check, and I didn’t realize that I had done it correctly until I re-checked in a psudeo-panic 20 minutes later. I am not without skills.
Happy New Year
Updated the plates section with a sumbission from Ariel. Update on New Year’s later…
I’m the one who looks like he loves it when a plan comes together.
A dismal terminal in Washington Dulles. Half of the fluorescent lights over Gate D19 are powered down, presumably to save electricity and placate the masses. The gray chairs, lighter gray carpet, and lighter still gray walls, combine with the reduced lighting to produce a generally depressive pallor to the area. On the wall are pictures of some of American Airlines’ exciting destinations: Mexico, Southeast (?), Japan. Also on the walls hang a picture of a 757 on the tarmac outside the terminal. The picture was taken on a depressingly cloudy day.
A trio of younger girls babble on incessantly, giggling about the nothing discussed between them. Another girl, of the same age group, sits with her father, removed from the trio by several seats. She’s reading a grown-up book, and periodically looks down the aisle at the girls with a look comprised of both envy and disdain.
Between the two groups sits a man and his wife. The man reads a story haltingly from his newspaper to his patient wife, who could read it much easier.
In the corner lurks a nerd.
An astounding stereotype of a blind man reads Braille near the gate. Prior to reading, he had discoursed on the quality of the world’s choirs to no one in particular. He was amazingly articulate, and announced as much later with feigned sheepishness and said, “I am a very good speaker, and do very well with words and such.” He is carrying a bag of fruit, and is wearing a spectacularly ugly wool cap.
The intelligent girls father works for American Airlines, and he has an ID saying as much pinned to the collar of his polo shirt. The girl plays guitar, evidenced by the case she hugs near her. Her pants are too short for her, as she is growing rapidly. She will be beautiful.
The woman in a couple younger than I, strokes her boyfriend’s cheek, tenderly. He keeps glancing at me as if I may be a threat. More likely, he probably wonders why keep glancing at him.
The previous plane empties, and it is nearly time to board.
An attractive girl sits next to me, leaving me briefly in charge of her bags. She has a Texan license, and is wearing a light blue thong under her black stretch pants. I didn�t talk to her whatsoever…save for “sure”, “yes”, and “absolutely”. Then, as she had fallen asleep while the rest of the passengers had boarded, I shook her gently on the shoulder, gave her my most charming smile, and said, “Are you coming along?” She laughed and I never saw her again.
Misty Water Colored
It’s suddenly 1990 again… at least in the small space between the picture I’d unearthed through my closet rummaging, and the point in the back of my mind where my memories are loosely kept. It’s a picture from below, catching a good portion of my ceiling, the top half of an oversized novelty billion dollar bill that I never released from it’s plastic sheilding, and the turned face of my first ever really and for super true girlfriend. The first one that I ever said, “I love you” to, and thought I meant it. She’s looking somewhere, but not at me, smiling and laughing, happy, pretty, and wearing my shirt. There’s a chain around her neck that I surmise has an amulet of some sort hanging from it; though the cross/ring/pendant/pearl rests below the pictures line of sight. I can’t remember what it might have been, but I wish I could.
I don’t talk to her anymore; and didn’t, in fact, much after that near year of dating, on account of her overwhelming disinterest stemming from the shards of a mutually broken heart. I hear she had two children now, but remains unmarried; not living well, but living. I wonder if she is happy.
I look at this picture now, and realize it was taken some 10 years ago. Funny how, emerging from the shock of that realization, is the even more puzzling feeling of a part of me that would still like to save her.
So Merry Belated Christmas. We’re currently in Day 7 of my 10 day Family Adventure. To date, it’s actually been fun and relaxing…so much so that I remarked to my mother, “Well, we only have a day and a half to get into an argument. (pause, pause) Speaking of which, can you believe how George W is…”
Some people marvel at how little I see the rest of the family, and that I remain sequestered along the west coast. Understnad that it’s not necessarily a conscious decision, as though I’m keeping myself away. It’s just that we’re, (a) all largely independent, (b) flying across the country isn’t the same as walking over to the next block, and (c) I’m keeping myself away…if I stayed here longer I’d go crazy!
It’s just a different way of living, I suppose. Having moved so many times during my formative years as an Air Force brat, you learn to keep relationships over long distances. Personally, I think all you people who see your parents every weekend are loons.
Merry Christmas…eve
I stood in a ham line today.
I generally try to avoid meat in my every day personal life (more or less), but all bets are off when I�m visiting my parents. Not that they eat meat much either, except for the occasional ground turkey substituting for beef in their rice and vegetable dishes.
The holidays, though, require either a turkey or a ham. Actually, let me amend that; the holidays require the formality of asking whether we should make a turkey or a ham, after which we always settle on ham in the interests of simplicity.
Imagine my surprise when my mother was able to cut even more work out of the process by no longer even cooking the ham herself, but instead buying it from the local hamatorium. Thus the ham line. Apparently, pig-balls are very popular this time of year; necessitating reservation times to pick-up said balls, ordering in advance, and then the aforementioned queue.
Putting your and my personal feelings about eating animals aside, I still found it humorous to be in a line solely for the purpose of obtaining ham.
I spent an embarrassing amount of time pouring over this map of Springfield, checking for episodal inconsistencies and directional contradictions. I’m sure you can imagine my glee after successfully finding Professor V.J. Cornucopia’s Fantastic Foodmagorium & Great American Steakery…oh, and Moe’s.
via kottke
Also, and in addition…
I am in Virginia right now, having flown across the country today for Christmas with the family. We’ll see how that turns out.
I neglected to mention that some friends and I saw Lord of the Rings on Wednesday. Being opening night made for a unique experience in a number of ways:
1. It was very crowded. So crowded that the people spilled over from the original theater, to two others. Luckily my group got to the door just as they began shunting people to the second theater, meaning that we scored some pretty good seats.
2. NERDS!!!
3. It was crowded (with nerds!)
4. These were the D&D; guys from high school (no offense to all you cool dungeon masters out there…uh I mean, I don’t know anything about D&D;, don’t be ridiculous!). These were the chess club guys, the band geeks, and the AV club dorks all rolled into one. These were the guys who I thought didn’t exist anymore…and I live in Silicon Valley. Only in retrospect did I realize that I never see them because they almost never go outside. These were the guys that still lived with their moms…literally…because I could hear them talking about their home life…loudly, in that self-confident nerd voice that signals the difference between a true dork, and just a techie poser. The true meek (of the shall-inherit-the-earth meeks) have that overly loud voice of bravado, showing that they know they are shunned, and they’re damn proud of it, too.
5. Oh, and the movie was good:
It was long, of course…almost 3 hours; and, like Star Wars, left you vaguely disappointed as the story’s not yet been fully told. The cinematography, in my opinion, was astounding (though it’s been somewhat lambasted by a few critics). The special effects were amazing as well, with whole orc hordes were created out of nothing, swirling and writhing over an equally impressive landscape.
The dialogue was engaging, and the story was as good as you’ll remember. I read 2 of the 3 books (or 3 of the 4 if you count The Hobbit) long ago, and the script seemed to coincide with my spotty memories. Either way, it was good enough to hold the entire theater’s rapt attention.
The experience was a lot like a suspense film. If you know the story, basically this guy gets chased all over hill and dale by people that want him dead. So, there were a lot of “Don’t open that door!” moments, followed by periods of nervous relaxation, followed again by “Look out behind you!” I left the theater feeling lsightly exerted from clenching and unclenching my muscles as the terror ebbed and flowed.
Oh, and despite the many many minutes of various battles, I saw nary a drop of spurting blood.
