fauxhemia

2003-08-27T01:05:00.000-07:00

Ahem

I've relocated.

Many, many thanks go to the wonderfully generous Patricia for offering to host me at lunanina.com.

Thank you, Blogger, good night!

Update: all comments, both enetation and haloscan, are back up for (my) archival viewing purposes.

2003-08-26T13:52:00.000-07:00

Royale With Cheese

What are the world's most quotable films? I'll start with two.

Pulp Fiction. Would you give a guy a foot massage?

The Princess Bride. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die.

Someone will likely mention The Godfather, but I haven't actually seen it. What others am I missing?

2003-08-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

Cultured

One of the girls I live with just returned from Japan. In Japan, she had a friend named "I" and an acquaintance named "You", heard stories about You's cousin "Me", and met someone named "Sucasa" who was from "Micasa".

No, they're not spelled like that, but they sure are pronounced like that.

She also brought back presents and trinkets that would put some of the entries on Engrish to shame. No Rock Star shirt, but she did buy this very plate, of Engrish fame.

What I like the best of what she's brought back to California is her perspective on Americans. She made the mistake of going to Costco the day she returned to the States:

"Americans are fat and lazy! What are you doing? You don't need six pounds of Velveeta!"

She posits that the Japanese have even found a way to make "American" food taste better than it does here. Furthermore, she says, they take all of our ideas and so vastly improve them that they are barely recognizable.

"Case in point: Ford invented the Model-T but you don't see Toyotas driving around with flaming tires."

2003-08-26T08:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks for Playing

The lie was Number Three. That could be because I'm not actually that hot, or because cops aren't actually that pigheaded, or because it really is going to happen but simply hasn't yet.

(Update)

Oh, yes, the results! There were 6 votes for story the first, 3 for the second and 2 for the third. Congratulations to the small minority of you who got it right, though from the look of it you were guessing at random. To the rest of you - you don't have much faith in off-duty police behavior, do you? No, me neither.

2003-08-25T10:27:00.000-07:00

The Art of Driving On California Freeways

2003-08-25T04:22:00.000-07:00

Eek!

"When you make it back to London, come up to Glasgow and give me us a shout. We'll take you out."

- Chris Geddes, keyboards, Belle and Sebastian

2003-08-22T15:15:00.000-07:00

I'd have posted earlier; unfortunately there was the matter of the MISSING ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL to be looked into first. I wish I could tell you it had been positively resolved.

Obfuscation
Brushes with the Law

One: Underage

Cops can save your butt, right? I'd never have been surprised to hear that, but it didn't really hit me for many years.

I grew up in a town whose size could be described by "smallish- to medium-sized city". It was home to a few hundred thousand people, had a discernible (though tiny) downtown area, yet was close enough to middle-of-nowhereness, evidenced by two-lane highways and thickly wooded areas, that it was possible, every year, for each high school's junior and senior classes to hold keggers in the woods come June.

I know. It's classy. High school tends to be.

My junior year of high school happened to end in the spring when area cops decided to crack down on underage drinking, and on large keg parties especially. The local paper printed stories that detailed police plans to patrol surrounding areas with methods that included circling helicopters in search of illegal teenage debauchery. Rumors of extensive arrests of minors made kids nervous, but the planners had no fear. No caution, at least.

I went to the junior keg in a two-door coupe with six other people and three tents. We drove to the designated map pick-up, where we were given barely and purposefully incomplete directions, which took us nearly there. At the last labeled spot on the map, we found the point person for final direction to the party site, a clearing about half an hour's drive into the woods one and a half hours north of town. It was a semi-well-oiled machine. Since it was the middle of June and the sun didn't set until late, the festivities kicked into full gear around 10:30, when the only illumination came from a bonfire, a few headlights and the gleams of adolescent mischief in 150 sets of eyes.

I woke in a tent the next morning not long after dawn when a friend called to me from the outside, saying the cops were there and that I needed to come out. "Yeah, right," I responded, "you're not getting me out of bed that way." Naturally, she'd been telling the truth.

The next six hours were spent being systematically sorted and questioned by the police. After determining age and BAC the cops separted the kids into two groups: those to receive MIP (minor in possession) charges, and those who would go free thanks to the generosity of the justice system. By the time it was my turn to speak with a cop, I'd swallowed a breathmint, sucked on a penny, and chewed a stick of gum, even though I knew perfectly well those mythical breathdisguisers would fail.

The cop asked for my license and examined it. "Have you been drinking?" he asked.

Strangely, I did something right: "Yes," I responded without hesitation.

He nodded, and asked whether my parents were aware of my whereabouts. I equivocated - just as I'd done when I told my mother my plans the previous day - and he picked up the breathalyzer. I blew, and waited a few seconds for a miracle to happen.

It did. I blew a 0.000.

"Let's call your home and let your parents know where you are," the officer said, friendly enough now that my sobriety had been established. I gave him the number and he called; he informed my mother that I'd been at a party in the woods, and he assured her that I hadn't been drinking.

He assured her that I hadn't been drinking.

I held my tongue. Had he forgotten my answer to his very first query? Was he just trying to give a girl a break? I'll never know.

Two: Po Po Creepin

Cops can be dimwitted fools, right? I'd never have been surprised to hear that, but it didn't really hit me for many years.

The first two years of college had two constants for me: a roommate, and a boyfriend. The former varied; the latter didn't. The problem with having both was that #1 afforded little time to be alone with #2. So whenever we wanted to talk without being overheard, my beau and I would take to one of our cars and park someplace quiet and pleasant.

Almost without fail, we would be approached by the fuzz while parked. Over the course of two years this became a running joke: apart, we were harmless, but together we emitted a signal that cops latched onto. At times, it seemed that we spent more time in threes - the two of us plus a police officer - than alone together.

Typically, the officer would approach the vehicle and shine his or her flashlight into our faces. Then our IDs were checked, and the car's registration. Then the questions.

"What are you doing here?" (talking)
"This late?" (yeah)
"Why?" (we both have roommates)
"You're sunk down awfully low in that seat." (excuse me?)
"Are you sure he's not harassing you, miss?" (this is getting ridiculous)

It was harmless, though an annoyance.

Our most irritating run-in with the police happened when we actually were driving. He'd been pulled over for failing to come to a complete stop at a four-way stop sign. (It was a deserted area in the middle of the night.) Officer 1 had taken his identification, registration and insurance card back to her car when I was startled by a tap on my window. I turned and was blinded by a second policeman's flashlight. After regaining my wits, I rolled down the window.

"What's that in the back?" officer 2 asked suspiciously. We glanced back. Several Corona boxes sat on the floor of the van. We were underage. "Oh, those are empty," my driver said. "I use them to store plastic bags."

Officer 2 narrowed his eyes. "Open it up," he said after a moment. Inconvenienced but understanding, we opened the side door and displayed the boxes of bags. The officer picked up a few, eyeing them under his bright light, and asked with deep suspicion, "Why are they tied up?" With frustration that was obvious to me, my boyfriend answered, "Because otherwise it would be a big mess."

After toying with the bags for a minute more, the cop sighed and muttered, "I suppose that's acceptable." He switched off the light and left.

Three: Picked Up

Cops can be just regular assholes in bars, right? I'd never have been surprised to hear that, but it didn't really hit me for many years.

Cop: Come here often?
Kate: Actually, I just turned 21 a few minutes ago.
Cop: Ahhh. I might have to turn my watch back and arrest you for underage drinking, just to get you into my patrol car.

Which one's the LIE?

2003-08-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

Because I'm a poser anyway (see above), telling lies is really just more of the same. Yeah, I know you think I'm some kind of beautiful, intelligent sexpot, but that's just part of my cunning plan to, well, get you to think I'm some kind of beautiful, intelligent sexpot. Deception is all in a day's work here on the blog.

It's this truth bit that worries me, quite frankly. That requires me actually to be interesting, not just to sound interesting - and I have enough trouble with the latter.

So when the obfuscatory post is published in a couple of hours (because I didn't plan ahead, or rather I did but instead of thinking of stories last night I went out and danced harder than I have in ages and came home at 3 a.m. completely knackered, so I've got to come up with ideas now), try to be a little forgiving. I'm not one of those who can say, "I've climbed K-2, I once escaped prison, and I faked a pregnancy to get out of a job; which one is true?"

Oh wait. Yes I can. Well, be forgiving anyway.

2003-08-21T15:33:00.000-07:00

Hilarity Roundup

I cannot recommend eloping enough, as you will save enough money for a down payment on a house and still have enough left over to pay for your first two children’s bachelors degrees.

* * *

Dear Money,

Hi.

Haven't seen you in a while. Are you still out there? Did you move away or get a new AIM name or something?

2003-08-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

I just love...

being treated as though my return to work has saved the office from certain death (what they don't know won't hurt them)
looking for plane tickets, even if being able to purchase them is only a fantasy
phone calls from afar
the way this morning started
people who treat "kinks" as my last name
leg accessories in general, garters particularly
planning for New York/Boston
owls
my new designer, Pete
the new look!

2003-08-21T09:01:00.000-07:00

Let down

When you see an item you like in a clothing store that also happens to have a sale tag, but upon being rung up at the register it turns out the item was erroneously marked down, it's policy for many companies to give you the sale price anyway.

When I went to the bank to sort out my accounts and the teller told me I had a credit card I'd never known about with a balance of $0, but then much later I was informed by another banker that the card was in fact one I'd reported stolen last winter, not actually usable, well ... I think I should have gotten the card and its unused credit anyway.

2003-08-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

fauxhemia needs a face lift

Someone like me who doesn't carry around spare killer blog templates in her back pocket shouldn't start messing around with her blog's little visual details when she is already tired to begin with, because that little bit of tweaking will turn into a fullscale overhaul which will NOT GO SMOOTHLY and which will not only leave her even more braindead than before but also without even a new look to show for all the work, because after awhile such a thing just has to be given up on.

Anyone want to redesign me?

In other news, this

is a fun idea.

2003-08-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

FYI

Ismat's back.

2003-08-20T07:09:00.000-07:00

Oops

I woke up this morning to discover that I am apparently a shameless, exhibitionist hussy. Why hasn't Drunken BlogGuard™ been developed yet?

2003-08-20T00:24:00.000-07:00

I doubt I'll ever find an accessory I like more than the ID/money pouch held to the thigh by a garter belt.

I'm not trying to be cute. It's honestly one of the best combinations of useful and fun that I've ever seen. Why is it such innovations seem only acquirable in the gift sets handed out by Clinique when customers spend over $15?

2003-08-19T09:23:00.000-07:00

Hypocrisy

If I'm not allowed to joke about guns and bombs in airports or on airplanes, is it too much to ask that airline staff not kid about plane food? Honestly, when a flight attendant says, "Here's your meal, and if you survive that I'll be impressed," I am not amused.

"All comments regarding the questionable quality of airline food are taken seriously. Please, no jokes."

2003-08-19T02:22:00.000-07:00

I'm the foot fuckin' MASTER

Some things never get old.

2003-08-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

This is an exercise in memory and I don't really expect it to interest anyone except me. But it's more readable than many of the other thoughts darting through my mind recently, most of which have to do with how much I currently loathe San Diego.

Camden A.M.

Most weekdays around nine o'clock, I left the flat with the day's gear packed into my handbag and trotted down Barker Drive with midmorning enthusiasm in the direction of Camden Town. I passed one cat lazing in the garden by the flat and another in the shade of some shrubbery across the street. As I approached the nearest cross street I sometimes saw a postman's vehicle parked between the Constitution, a local pub, and the red BT telephone booth with the advert that read, "But 9 of 10 BT telephones are always working."

I crossed the street and skipped down the steps to the canal, dodging the workers tearing up the pavement (until they disappeared and left a sparkling new stone surface in their place). There was a bench a few paces from the steps and usually it was occupied. Several more yards on were often perched a pair or threesome of hopeful fishers, already looking weary in the sun, which by this time had begun to heat concrete, wooden and watery surfaces everywhere and coax out a gleam of moisture from every forehead I could see.

Water squirted from the cracks between some of the cement planks that formed the walkway by the canal, so I tried awkwardly to avoid the small crevices, while at the same time skirting around puddles, ducking under the curved ceilings created by bridges over the canal at Royal College Street and Kentish Town Road, and dashing to the path's edge at the sound of a bike's tinkling bell or a jogger's thudding footsteps.

Sometimes people were maneuvering boats through the lock just before the excellently situated MTV studios. Across from MTV's picnic table-bedecked deck was a grassy spot where lay several sunsoaked nappers, invariably clothed by the long-sleeved and black, something I never understood.

The path widened and took a slightly upward slant at this point, and Camden Market came into view. There were the stalls and stores, the pubs and restaurants, the bridge that was Chalk Farm Road, the continuance of the canal as it wound toward Primrose Hill, the London Zoo, and eventually Little Venice.

I took the cobblestone path up to the bridge and crossed in the direction of the canalside Starbucks. When I wanted coffee, I sometimes bought it; other times, I got it free. As I walked down the crowded street I always heard "Waiting for Tonight" by Jennifer Lopez coming from Blueberry. I passed the racks of Union Jack thongs, the goth store, and the stall selling football jerseys, including that of Newcastle United in a boys' large, the one I have now.

I sometimes stopped at a cash point on the corner of Parkway. I picked the one with the shortest queue, either Barclay's, HSBC or Lloyd's, and made a stop at the internet cafe a short way down Camden High Street. It smelled like bad food unless I was hungry, and then it smelled fantastic. I paid £1 for an hour and spent it checking email, reading weblogs and investigating the potential destinations of the day before prancing out and across the road to the Camden Town tube station, where I bought a Day Travelcard for zones 1 and 2, made my way to the soonest Charing Cross branch arrival and disappeared through the train doors before it sped away to Central London.

2003-08-12T06:19:00.000-07:00

there's going to be a paucity of posts over the next several days. i have goodbyes to say in london, flights to take over the atlantic and across the states, and a wedding to attend which should be interesting, as the father of the groom -- and my father also -- will be announcing his engagement at the affair, the guests at which will include his two most recent wives and the five children he's had with them.

if you'd like to read something of mine in the meantime, i invite you to pop over to mark's place, where i had my guest blogging gig last week, and browse through our "senses" series.

i'm going to miss posting in this time zone.

posted tue. 2:19 pm

2003-08-11T03:31:00.000-07:00

oh yeah, this blog turned six months old on saturday. i'll use that as an excuse to eat cake.

mmm, cake.

posted mon. 11:31 am

2003-08-11T02:50:00.000-07:00

and a city breathes.

posted mon. 10:50 am

2003-08-08T06:47:00.000-07:00

three scenarios: misconceptions and clarifications.

scenario: i pass three druggies sitting canalside. i stare.
misconception: druggies think i'm watching them prepare lines.
clarification: i'm fixated on one man's shoes: slim-fitting, heeled, clear jellies. it's the fashion, not the lifestyle.

scenario: i see my landlord/flatmate at the flat. he says, "kate, was a strange man sleeping in your bed when you came home this morning?"
miconception: i think my landlord/flatmate has been allowing vagrants to sleep in my bed.
clarification: one of the mixer bar staff needed to crash. a friendly. no harm.

scenario: i am slightly emotional and substantially out of sorts.
misconception: those around me ~~begin~~ continue to question my mental stability; people probably start thinking words like "issues".
clarification: i was unexpectedly reminded that families are fallible, and needed time to work things out. fabulously fun kate is back in business.

friday, baby.

posted fri. 2:47 pm

2003-08-08T02:43:00.000-07:00

when someone asks whether it would be better to be a zombie or a vampire, and your very first thought is that vampires are sexier, and then it turns out that that was someone else's first thought as well, i think it's safe to say that such a person is on the same wavelength you are, and moreover, that it's a very, very important wavelength.

posted fri. 10:43 am

2003-08-07T08:54:00.000-07:00

if easy internet cafe didn't charge one pound eighty per hour i'd have time to compose a po

2003-08-06T04:43:00.000-07:00

i don't have anything to contribute right now, so check out the drama incited by Her Deliciousness, Ms. Hiboux:

it's worth following.

posted wed. 12:43 pm

2003-08-05T04:16:00.000-07:00

London, England

CURRENT CONDITIONS


25 c (77 F)

Sunny

Rel. Humidity: 60%
Wind: NE at 5 mph (8 km/h)
Sunrise: 5:31 AM
Sunset: 8:44 PM

	Tuesday 33 (91) \| 20 (68)

	Wednesday 32 (90) \| 21 (70)

	Thursday 29 (84) \|18 (64)

	Friday 29 (84) \| 17 (63)

	Saturday 29 (84) \|18 (64)

San Diego, CA

CURRENT CONDITIONS


21 c (69 F)

Cloudy

Rel. Humidity: 83%
Wind: N at 4 mph (6 km/h)
Sunrise: 6:05 AM
Sunset: 7:44 PM

	Monday 24 (76) \| 19 (67)

	Tuesday 23 (74) \| 19 (67)

	Wednesday 24 (76) \|19 (67)

	Thursday 24 (76) \|19 (67)

	Friday 24 (76) \| 19 (67)

forecast courtesy of (stolen from) CNN.com
idea to put the two side by side courtesy of (stolen from) correspondence with a loved (and funny) one

posted tue. 12:16 pm

2003-08-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

does this sound familiar? there's option A and there's option B. and within option B there are several other alternatives, say, choices 1 through 4. all the people you don't really like much want option B, choice 1 or 2. but the people you do like can't decide whether they want option A, option B choice 3, or option B choice 4. option A is probably the least desirable of those three, but at the same time, the simplest. all you personally know is that you don't want to end up with what the people you don't like want. it's pretty critical that you and the people you like work together on making your selection, because if you splinter off then the people you don't like will win out and ruin everything. you need some clear direction so that you can be confident that you and the people you like are ~~voting~~ choosing as a cohesive group, not as a fractious gathering of individuals who don't know what one another is doing or supposed to do. you're worried that you aren't going to get any clear direction and that you're going to have to deal with an unwanted outcome for, say, three and one-half years until the next ~~election~~ choice rolls around. sigh. sound familiar?

i mean, just hypothetically.

posted tue. 11:00 am

2003-08-01T08:13:00.000-07:00

i just left the british museum and there were lots of tourists there taking pictures of all the exhibits and artifacts and mostly not reading the little explanations off to the side. people were posing their children in front of the rosetta stone and telling their spouses to give the thumbs-up sign next to the remains of a greek statue and taking close-ups of the larger explanatory prints -- presumably so that they could save time by reading them later.

i, on the other hand, was very intellectual throughout my visit. i kept thinking, as i walked through the Mummified Egyptians Room, "if i stand in front of the glass and get just the right lighting so that my reflection is somewhat clear, i can take a picture where it looks like i'm lying inside that sarcophagus."

posted fri. 4:13 pm

2003-08-01T02:21:00.000-07:00

there are some things for which losing them and then remembering where they've gone is actually a good thing. "where's my film? oh, it's at the developer's! wonderful, i'll have pictures soon." "where are my glasses? oh, i got rid of them after my laser eye surgery, because i have perfect vision now!" "where did all those condoms go? oh!"

but money is not one of those things. never, ever, after wondering where the devil all your money went, will you feel better looking at your account history. recalling that you've paid $3 for every ATM withdrawal (and god knows there were a few) and realising that everything you've bought on holiday has cost twice as much as it would at home and that's why you've got to start eliminating meals from your budget -- this is less than comforting.

now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to go do a lot things for free.

posted fri. 10:21 am

2003-07-31T04:07:00.000-07:00

you know the feeling that you're bottling something good inside that you think you'd love to share with the world, but aren't sure, or for whatever reason can't just come out and say it? like when something good happens to you, or you've had a wonderful realisation or discovery, or you find yourself in a state of sublime contentment, or you come across a pot of gold?

this is one of those times for me. but rather than keep you all in a state of ignorance, or make you guess, i'm going to be completely direct:

i think i'm falling in love ... with this city.

posted thu. 12:07 pm

2003-07-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

i think i'll know i'm ready to have children when i can ride in the lift with no less than eighteen of the little devils and emerge not wanting to scream.

anyway, the real reason i'm posting is to complain. my inner nerd (wait, what am i talking about? my inner nerd is my entire being) is dissatisfied with grammatical errors on the advertisements i saw on the tube today. honestly, i find this distracting. i'm busy trying to let my consumer self be swayed by corporate advertising tactics, and all i can concentrate on is the fact that here--

Any SIM card, any provider.
(tempted to lose your current mobile?)

--the "t" that heads up the second line should be capitalised, because it begins a sentence, as is clear from the period that comes before it. (please, no jokes about my being american and, thus, staunchly "capitalist". likewise, let's ignore the fact that my blog is almost totally capital-letter-free. at least i know where they should go.)

furthermore, this very same ad continued with a mistake i see everywhere:

www.primusmobiles.com or call 0800 036 0800

not parallel! not parallel! is it so hard instead to print "go to such-and-such URL or call such-and-such number"? or simply to omit the word "call"?

sigh.

when one begins a)to notice grammatical errors in advertisements and b)to expend effort to enumerate said errors in writing and c)to decide that blog readers will actually want to read that kind of shite, i'd say it's a good sign that things are deteriorating, material-wise.

that, and the fact that my only post worth commenting on consists of one line, which is nearly all jibberish.

posted wed. 5:38 pm

2003-07-29T03:52:00.000-07:00

the art of making new friends.

step one: meet.

step two: infiltrate the family.

step three: hope new friend doesn't mind his sister's picture being posted on the internet. prepare bribe in case he does.

posted tue. 10:53 am

2003-07-28T06:25:00.000-07:00

lkasv jfdasj;bloggeray9sdfa kj al3

2003-07-28T05:56:00.000-07:00

i realise that it's probably not interesting to read about someone else's parents, but i feel i'd be doing a disservice if i let these words fade into the oblivion of my mail server. i just received an email from mom. the subject line is, "about nothing in particular".

- - -

Hi there Kathleen!

I'm trying to write a paper on homosexuality in the church, for my class on marriage and sexuality (required for the M.Div,) when I suddenly realized that if a spaceship full of aliens landed in Spokane today, they would actually believe that lizards rule the earth and humans are an inferior species. Because as far as I can see, this is lizard weather. They're feeling good. They're moving. We're just lying around with our mouths hanging open (with popsicles hanging from our tongues). And I thought cows were lazy and inferior.

Now I better get back to my paper. I'm almost finished. That was my insight for the day. Thanks for letting me share it with you.

Love,
Mom

p.s. I love you.

posted mon. 1:56 pm

2003-07-24T11:51:00.000-07:00

my mom is cooler than your mom.

i recently emailed my mother and referred her to a picture i took -- the same one down there, a couple posts ago.

this is an actual, unaltered paragraph excerpted from her reply.

I liked your picture of -- what is it, Big Ben? Or is that like looking at a picture of Mark Twain and thinking that it's Einstein? Anyway, it looks nice and warm over there. We're into the 100's every day, and I have discovered quite scientifically that we are the opposite of lizards. Whereas when it's very hot, the lizards get frisky, when it's hot for us humans we just get sluggish. Every little thing seems hard -- like work, to take a random example.

posted thu. 7:51 pm

2003-07-24T06:36:00.000-07:00

since my computer isn't easily transportable, i've been doing most of my web-surfing on LSE network machines in the library or computer rooms when it fits into my schedule. i have a fairly consistent routine of logging in every day between 1:00 and 3:00 at the library and a nonroutine habit of popping into the computer room at my residence once every day or so, and it's allowed me to notice some of the basic character types to be found at the various computer workstations.

type one is the dedicated emailer. the DE types emails in outlook or using webmail with a great deal of intensity. no gratuitous open windows are used by the DE; single-mindedly committed to maintaining the lines of e-communication, he or she has fingers on the keys, eyes on the screen, and brow wrinkled in potent concentration.

type two is the american sports fan. the ASF is always, without fail, male. sometimes he reads yahoo sports, but the window he normally has open is espn. the ASF spends more time at a workstation than any other user, because there is JUST SO MUCH TO FIND OUT ABOUT IN AMERICAN SPORTS AND HE DOESN'T WANT TO MISS A THING WHILE HE'S OVERSEAS.

type three is the over-the-shoulder watcher. the OTSW is monstrously irritating. after logging in, the OTSW allows his or her eyes to drift over to the computer screen in front of his/her neighbour, and they stay there, presumably reading and prying, until the neighbour turns to look pointedly back in annoyance. the OTSW actually does very little on the computer; he or she usually checks email, ryanair.com and one or two other sites of miscellany. more concerned, it seems, is the OTSW with the activity of users around him/her. the OTSW is very dense in the cranial area, and even after repeated pointed looks fails to realize his/her rudeness.

type four is the hard worker. you can't really say anything negative about HWs because, well, they work so damn hard and you must admire them, plugging away at any time of day with piles of printed material in their laps, books and notepads on the desk surface, and spreadsheets or powerpoint presentations gleaming from the monitor. you almost feel sorry for HWs, but they seem to thrive in their particular mode of operation, so you let 'em enjoy it. besides, maybe there is a finite amount of work in the world so that the more they do, the less there is for you?

type five is me. i'm like the food pyramid of computer users: a bit of everything.

posted thu. 2:36 pm

2003-07-24T05:59:00.000-07:00

and they say it's grey in london.

posted thu. 1:59 pm

2003-07-24T05:48:00.000-07:00

kate points out the obvious, #48930.

something is wrong when nigeria sends peacekeeping troops to quell violence in liberia.

nigeria.

posted thu. 1:48 pm

2003-07-23T03:06:00.000-07:00

'must-haves' for picking a fight with kate:

have a reason. if i have to argue with you, i should deserve it. if i disparaged your kin, slept with your best friend, or kicked your dog, bring it on. tell me off. teach me a lesson. but if your contention is that i was "snobbish" and/or "different" to you in the days that followed a few hours' company, then perhaps an angry confrontation in the street is a bit premature.
have evidence. when i ask what 'different' means, shrugging is not a particularly enlightening response. nor does it help to repeat your statement that we had one pleasant afternoon together after which i was different. yes, thank you, i heard you the first time. what i did not hear was any sort of definition for 'different' or justification for your shaky claim.
have a point. news flash: when i say, "i'm really sorry; i had no intention of behaving differently or snobbishly toward you and i apologise for giving that impression," and you say, "that's not what i want," i must say i'm left at a loss for discerning your purpose in starting the argument. furthermore, the sentence "i just wanted to tell you" actually tells me very little apart from the fact that you clearly think you not only have all the answers but also have the duty to impart them to others. why thank you.
have some decency. you've got nerve, my good man, to pull the "you're only 21" card. if you think age is so unsurprisingly deterministic, how is it that i slipped through your immaturity detector before? it's terribly convenient for you to blame your dissatisfaction with me on an elemental quality the implications and meanings of which can be twisted and yanked to justify a whole range of possibilities for my behavior. it's less convenient, i daresay, for you to recognize that there was a disparity between your expectations of me and the extent to which i fulfilled them. if i haven't lived up to your hopes, maybe your hopes were inflated. and especially after you made such a show during our last meeting of passing judgment -- good judgment -- judgment that included, notably, the words "mature for your age" -- you're in no position to blame on my paucity of years your unrealized designs for our relationship.
have respect. even sarcasm fails me here. how dare you condescend to me. your complacent shrugging, your rolling eyes, your self-satisfied assertion that the way i've acted is "not how to treat a person" -- it's flamingly hypocritical. how dare you accuse me of denial. my claims to confusion rest legitimately on an understanding of our relationship that is somewhere between nonexistent and wrong. how dare you put blame on me for my naïveté, for hoping you had no agenda. you make my innocence out to be a conniving scheme aimed at your frustration. you validate my worries that you had an ulterior motive and then punish me for not playing along. how dare you assume that i owed you anything.
have some class. stopping me in the middle of a busy sidewalk in central london? please. give me some warning next time; i'll put on a gown and stilettos and we'll fight in style. the heel would fit perfectly into your face.

posted wed. 11:06 am

2003-07-22T06:51:00.000-07:00

"smell this! grease paint! show business!"

- judy garland as jane falbury in summer stock (1950)

posted tue. 2:51 pm

2003-07-21T16:07:00.000-07:00

when you go to the half-price ticket booth and they offer you £26 tickets in the back of the first balcony, opt out and take your chances with the subject-to-availability student discount at the box office thirty minutes before curtain, because you just might score front row, first balcony seats at twenty quid apiece.

on a related note, i think one sure sign that you've scored good seats is being asked to leave by someone who thinks you're in his seat until you point out that he's in the wrong circle, sorry, and will have to go up another level. something about the way his smile disppears tells you you're in an enviable spot.

posted tue. 12:07 am

2003-07-21T05:07:00.000-07:00

(counting is down but comments are up -- with some very good musical suggestions)

2003-07-20T15:47:00.000-07:00

this spring, i compiled a mix that a few weeks ago made its way into my cd case and thus into my backpack, onto an airplane, over an ocean and ultimately, tonight, into my player. i'd nearly forgotten how much i liked it, a perfect soundtrack for my late evening hours:

tori amos - i don't like mondays
aimee mann - save me
angie stone - i wish i didn't miss you
wilco - california stars
trembling blue stars - never loved you more
clem snide - african friend
coldplay - the scientist
beck - already dead
elliott smith - miss misery
joni mitchell - a case of you
nick drake - pink moon
smashing pumpkins - sheila
radiohead - no surprises
rufus wainwright - in a graveyard
wilco - at my window sad and lonely

what music do you play in the dark?

update: in the case that one exists, my favorite line from a song can be viewed by hovering over its title.

posted sun. 11:47 pm

2003-07-20T04:33:00.000-07:00

the programs abroad office at my university just forwarded me an email which goes something like this:

Hello,

I am a student who plans to live in London for the next year. I have gotten a flat with two other students which is spacious, located at the heart of central London, and affordable -- about $460 a month given the current exchange rate. We are looking for someone with whom we can share the flat. Can you forward this message to other students in London?

Signed,
The Angel of Temptation

trying - to - resist - trying - so - hard - to - resist --

posted sun. 12:33 pm

2003-07-18T07:08:00.000-07:00

news flash.

blair on iraq:
"I believe with every fiber of instinct and conviction I have that we are [right]."

bush on british citizens in guantanamo bay:
"The only thing I know for certain is that these are bad people."

2003-07-18T06:19:00.000-07:00

i'm doing a shamefully brilliant job of perpetuating the stereotype that americans don't understand irony or sarcasm. i may actually be qualified to teach a course on the subject. method one: do get pissy when told your hair makes you look like medusa.

in related news, i think i owe someone a slap.

posted fri. 2:19 pm

2003-07-17T07:35:00.000-07:00

various and sundry.

one of the best things about being in school is the kick-back time after an exam. ahhhh.
postcards should be photocopied before getting sent out, so that you remember what you've written and aren't at a loss when someone says "i loved/hated/cried at/laughed at what you wrote!"
the previous comment can be ignored in the case of greg howard, because in emailing thanks he will remind you what you've written and cause you to laugh aloud, thinking, "wow, i really am funny after all!"
when leaving the house for an extended period of time, it's important to ensure the health of any plants habitating in your room. neglecting to provide for their care or disposal may result in a chain of events that culminates in a frantic letter from flatmates along the lines of "YOUR PLANT IS SMELLING UP THE WHOLE HOUSE, PLEASE ADVISE"
in case there was ambiguity, the falling thing and the covent garden stairs thing were unrelated. THANK HEAVEN. falling down those stairs wouldn't have been a simple episode of embarrassment; it would have taken a month and a half. and the miserable thing about them isn't the height -- i can bound up lots of flights of stairs, no problem -- it's the unending, landing-less SPIRALITY, the fact that the end is never in sight. it's quite purgatorial.
that i can tell by looking at my starbucks usual -- iced skinny two-pump vanilla latte -- that it's got the wrong ingredients may signal the need to curb that particular habit.
the only thing better than being asked if your nails were professionally manicured is being asked twice if your nails were professionally manicured.
my umbrella is too wide for easy sidewalk manoeuvring. i'm seriously considering one of those hats with a mini umbrella on top. if people are allowed to resurrect mullets then i don't see why i can't do that.
mega-points to anyone who recognizes the line in my title bar. mega.

posted thu. 3:35 pm

2003-07-16T14:12:00.000-07:00

i love this person.

k: i always think about buying you a postcard with just a picture of the queen
k: but i am too embarrassed to purchase it
i: haha
i: how come?
i: if they look at you funny just say "WE DON'T HAVE A QUEEN IN AMERICA"

posted wed. 10:12 pm

2003-07-16T08:58:00.000-07:00

i spent half of yesterday's very pleasant evening in hyde park with a new acquaintance. a french canadian from montreal, he practiced law for two years before working for doctors without borders in africa for five -- living, variously, in rwanda, guinea, and liberia -- and finally moving to new york city to do advocacy work in their office there. (naturally, we spent the first hour getting that chronology straight.)

we had a fascinating conversation about putting down roots in unfamiliar places. i tend to talk a lot of talk about moving around, cutting ties, discovering new places and meeting new people, but my experience is child's play. here was someone walking the walk. i asked him if the processes of separation and of making new connections got more difficult with age, and we got to talking about the change by which one starts to think of social compansionship less as an absolute good in itself. the idea of having a relationship simply for the sake of a relationship becomes less appealing; what matters more is making a meaningful connection somehow, and if, in a new setting, no such bond is made, then solitude is a perfectly acceptable situation.

were we overanalysing? or worse, does the fact that we aren't so eager to find company at any cost -- or at any level of quality, let's say -- mean that we've lost something important? maybe a sense of fun? are we being narrow-minded by suggesting that there are people with whom we cannot connect? if i'm with someone, regardless of whom, is the value of my experience heightened? if i'm alone, is it diminished?

shall i shut up now?

posted wed. 4:58 pm

2003-07-16T06:52:00.000-07:00

when i fell down yesterday i thought immediately of my roommate (actually, 'flatmate' is more accurate) and the fact that she finds people falling tremendously funny. so i emailed to tell her of my embarrassment. she replied, and in doing so reminded me why we are friends.

awwwww kate how sad that you fell. but it's nice that it made you think of me! i dont know what it is about people falling, but i love it.

posted wed. 2:52 pm

2003-07-16T06:22:00.000-07:00

please consider this my very sincere personal invitation to slur americans in my comment box.

i'm serious.

you can even be anonymous, if you really need to be (coward).

posted wed. 2:22 pm

2003-07-15T16:18:00.000-07:00

right. altogether now:

NEVER, EVER TAKE THE STAIRS UP FROM THE TRAINS AT COVENT GARDEN STATION.

ever.

i'll be back when my lungs return to their normal state of health.

london bloggers, you might have told me...

posted wed. 12:18 am

2003-07-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

trauma-rama:

nothing like falling to make you feel like a total fucking idiot.

posted tue. 4:45 pm

2003-07-15T06:25:00.000-07:00

KATE'S HOLIDAY LOG: in which i may appear to be drawing thoughtful conclusions upon the natures of culture, travel and experience, but am in reality merely an american saying, "hey, look! europeans!" only in a slightly more subtle way.

vol. 3: settling.

i like settling into a new routine. it makes me feel as though a place is home, even though it isn't -- self-trickery is one of my very favorite pasttimes.

every morning i wake up tangled in my own hair, smelling fresh and pleasant (having showered the evening prior), and perform the usual wake-up steps of brush (teeth), brush (hair), wash (face), deodorize, primp, dress, try on four pairs of shoes, consider purse possibilities, leave, come back to change shoes, eat breakfast, and head out -- just like anyone else.

after leaving my residence i might make some stops on route to my morning destination. i buy stamps at the post office and mail letters; i withdraw money from the cash point; i order coffee -- iced, of course, we are in the midst of a veritable heat wave, after all -- and i make my way cheerfully to houghton street for class.

i like my nascent routine, and i like the accompanying realisation that things around here have become familiar. one of my favorite feelings is that of starting to feel comfortable in a totally new environment; that's why i move to places where i know no one and travel to cities where i've never been and tend (perhaps foolishly) to cut ties when i've settled into a new context. i'm not saying i'm terribly adventurous -- then i'd have to defend my choices to stay in the english-speaking world and to exclude most southern states from my imaginary travel itineraries, and i have no defence aside from my cowardly avoidance of the language barrier (yes, that goes for both cases). i am saying that i like to move around, and i love to find that movement suits me.

of course, this is not without setbacks. yesterday, for example, found me in a lift with a young english man and woman, the latter of whom observed that she'd been noticing increasing numbers of americans around campus.

"really," replied her companion, a dry statement rather than a question. from the tone i knew without having to turn round that he'd raised a single eyebrow. "americans. oh dear."

"oh dear, indeed," she agreed, and i amusedly lifted a single brow myself in their direction, having been reminded that no matter how 'settled' into a new context i fancy myself, and no matter how fond i am of self-trickery, i mustn't fool myself into thinking that i'm wholly in command of how a new context fancies me.

posted tue. 2:25 pm

2003-07-15T01:51:00.000-07:00

polish, pt. 2:

which is better, having a freshly painted set of nails, or being asked if i'd gotten them professionally manicured?

posted tue. 9:51 am

2003-07-14T15:55:00.000-07:00

funny how a coat of red polish makes me feel like a whole new girl.

posted mon. 11:55 pm

2003-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

this absogoddamnlutely fanfuckingtastic weather just BEGS the swimsuit be donned and the sun soaked up.

there must be a sandy beach around here somewhere.

posted mon. 3:00 pm

2003-07-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

damn it. i must see this movie.

posted sun. 5:34 pm

2003-07-11T06:23:00.000-07:00

not only does my brother describe his and his fiancee's kitchen as "a haberdashery" of items owned by the two of them; he's got a registry at target! man, i love him.

once their home is fully stocked with target gear, i'm totally spending all my weekends in piedmont.

posted fri. 2:23 pm

2003-07-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

here are some things i have enjoyed about my holiday so far. i'll try to keep it as brief as possible.

one video screen per passenger
pretty decent airplane food
the irish lilt
the greenest countryside i've ever seen
the cliffs of moher
our funny tour guide, and the way he managed to end every story with "and so it remains to this very day."
potato cakes
hostel friends -- the italians, oh the italians
checking my bank balance and discovering that a paycheck had been deposited at three times the amount i'd expected -- did you hear me say something about "spending restraint"? i didn't think so
molly's friend niall, and his northern/irish/welsh/spanish/american accent
kidding the girl from cork about "tirty-tree and a turd"
walking about dublin
seeing the plough and the stars at the abbey theatre
telling people i punched someone with a glass eye ("you think my knuckle looks painful? you should have seen the eye.")
my room at the lse
the location of my flat
mark
seriously, he's so cool
and i can't believe he's let me take up so much of his time this week
(actually, he's paying me to write up complimentary things on this website)
(right. moving along, then...)
the fact that i receive a fresh towel and soap daily and fresh bed linen weekly
the grad student who leads my discussion section
writing postcards -- really, it's super fun on this trip, for some reason, sorry i know it's dorky
that every person i have met today has said, "oh my god. i am so jealous" upon learning that i'm from san diego
walking everywhere

posted wed. 2:52 pm

2003-07-09T01:43:00.000-07:00

i don't know if it's because karen at rise -- a uk blogger -- has noticed and linked me, or if it's because i'm in the uk. maybe, for once, i won't give myself credit for 95% of this site's traffic, and venture the suggestion that i actually have more than five readers, meaning it's karen's work after all. in any case, 1/3 of my hits are from this part of the world now, so to all of you who are new i would like to say:

hello.

thanks for visiting!

and yes, i mispronounce "leicester square" on purpose.

posted wed. 9:43 am

2003-07-08T17:58:00.000-07:00

addendum to holiday log vol. 1:

spanish: where are you from?
me: california.
spanish: do girls in california like sex?
me: (coughing, sputtering) pardon me?
spanish: i have heard that girls in california like sex. is this true?
me: [silence.]

posted wed. 1:58 am

2003-07-08T01:47:00.000-07:00

as i started down the eight staircases between my room and breakfast, i thought, quite clearly and with as much conviction that i was right as dread that i would be injured and embarrassed, "i am going to fall down the stairs." so, it's one of those kinds of days.

posted tue. 9:47 am

2003-07-07T09:55:00.000-07:00

downside to putting fist down for balance without checking for renegade razors:

bloody cuts on knuckle.

upside to putting fist down for balance without checking for renegade razors:

telling everyone i punched someone who had a glass eye.

posted mon. 5:55 pm

2003-07-07T05:50:00.000-07:00

vol. 1: girl talk

i don't have it as bad (good?) as some girls, being not of the fabulously gorgeous persuasion, but i know what it's like to be hit on, at least in the united states. now that i'm experiencing it in other countries, i'm trying to put together a mental index of pick-up line equivalencies across different nationalities, basing it upon how i've been approached in various places by total strangers. again, this is far from conclusive (or serious), especially since i don't think i'm really a top pick as far as girls go. anyway, here's what i have so far:

italian: "you are very, very, very, very pretty." also: "you would like to come sleep in my bed, no?"

irish: "i'll never see you again. [insert expectant, puppy-ish facial expression.]" also: "you won't like london. stay here."

american: "what's up. [upward nod; cocky grin.]"

posted mon. 1:50 pm

2003-07-06T15:01:00.000-07:00

tour guide, old jameson distillery: this mill stone was actually used in the malting process when this distillery was in use. they say that touching it will bring you good luck.

niall: good, that should cancel out all my bad luck from not forwarding chain emails.

posted sun. 11:01 pm

2003-06-30T00:14:00.000-07:00

i'm calm enough in real life about my last-minutedness -- hell, i went to see spellbound at 10 p.m. tonight, having packed all of nothing -- but i think that, were i actually to sit down and write about my (lack of) progress toward readiness for the seven-week jaunt across the atlantic for which i'm leaving tomorrow, i just might lose it.

so excuse me now for my brevity, excuse me later for my absence, and please, please, excuse me for the overload of prepositions in this post.

and feel free to send me email: katekinks*at*hotmail*dot*com. put something non-spammy in the subject line.

2003-06-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

i have something to say to the driver of the SUV with the license plate frame that reads MY GRANDKIDS ARE CUTER THAN YOURS:

MY GRANDPARENTS ARE CUTER THAN YOU.

bring it.

2003-06-27T10:18:00.000-07:00

happy day today.

2003-06-26T17:05:00.000-07:00

dear new neighbors,

fyi, this community does not tolerate frat rock.

regards,
kate

2003-06-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

i was going to write a post entitled "ab side" (a lame word-spin off the successful ab workout device, a device which carries a story of its own that involves myself, a hardwood floor and a very large and very painful bruise above my left temple), and the post was going to detail the wrenching ache on the sides of my abs where, on account of a cough that is going on six weeks old, i have developed, strengthed, hardened, and now PULLED two hitherto undiscovered muscles -- cough muscles -- and furthermore, the post was going to be an unnecessarily lengthy way of broadcasting my wimpy complaints about the small annoyances that came from not being able to walk upright or sing at the top of my lungs in the car or clear my throat with any efficiency or receive big bear hugs.

but after i received a ONE-HOUR MASSAGE tuesday night, the point became moot. no whining here, no siree.

so how about a story of the heroism of two adventurous beach-bound trekkers? (i mean that in a star trek-less sense.)

yesterday the long-missed san diego sun emerged from the shroud of grey behind which it had hidden for week after dismal week. the beach called; our heroine answered. ghastly pale from weeks without sunshine and turning nearly blue 'round the edges, she had left work early and found a companion with whom to make the journey. they set forth with Swimsuit and Towel and Boogie Board. they braved traffic, oh traffic, oh heavy traffic, laiden with the swimsuits and towels and boogie boards of hundreds of other travelers, turning a ten-minute drive into a thirty-minute one. they survived jams, they were optimistic through standstills, and they approached the nearest beach with plenty of spunk.

anticipating the hoards of beach-goers and their scores of vehicles, knowing the clogged streets and saturated lot that lay ahead, our heroine asked her companion for advice. should they give the parking lot a shot? should they gamble being caught in the web of space-thirsty drivers, drivers willing to stop dead in the lot waiting for a spot to open, like vultures, with the miniscule possibility that our heroine and companion might find such a golden parking space themselves? the companion, feeling daring, directed her to take the risk.

and so our trekkers ventured into the parking lot with caution and calculating precision. which lane should we take? are they leaving? should we stop? they were cool-headed and confident, having surmounted the only somewhat surmountable to get this far and knowing that their strength of will would get them to the sandy, salty shores in time, in due time.

but then, suddenly: a halt. a halt! a line of cars long enough to obscure the source of the stoppage stretched out in front of them. a minute passed without comment; then another. our trekkers shifted uncomfortably. our heroine pulled restlessly at the halter top of her bikini; her companion sighed and apologized (needlessly) for misdirected advice. yet another minute passed, and another, and another again. would they ever move again? would the ocean elude them? would an afternoon of Blissful Seaside Relaxation be thwarted by this Jam of Outrage?

NO. it wouldn't. our heroine, blessed by a few spare feet of maneuvering room behind her, set her vehicle in reverse, scooted carefully backward, returned to forward motion, and pulled out of the line with smoothness and speed. she squeezed between the line of cars on her left, still waiting, never moving, and the filled parking spaces on her right, where were parked the risky and the lucky that had gone before. she and her companion pulled ahead of the first car in line, the car that had caused those moments of impatient misery, and then there it was:

an empty parking space.

just sitting there! unguarded! unclaimed! unKNOWN! how it could have been, is a mystery, but it didn't matter. our intrepid heroes, having braved the obstacles and held faithfully to the hope of seeing the sand, the waves, the long-awaited sun in all its oceanside brilliance, had been rewarded. they had WON.

2003-06-26T13:33:00.000-07:00

oh jesus christ, look at the blogger edit page.

2003-06-25T10:40:00.001-07:00

did i say i'd have time to write when i wasn't working? i'm sorry, the sun came back.

hello, sunshine! hello, ocean! hello, suddenly happy san diegans!

2003-06-24T14:11:00.000-07:00

coming soon, when i have time to do anything besides work:

ab side.

2003-06-23T04:42:00.000-07:00

tell me this song doesn't make you want to hold your favorite cowboy's (or cowgirl's) hand and gaze off into the dusty sunset.

i told you they were good.

2003-06-23T03:33:00.000-07:00

wait, hold up a bit.

when am i leaving for london?

a week from tomorrow, you say?

AHHHHH!

*contemplates the idea of packing at some point*

2003-06-19T10:45:00.000-07:00

a moment of silent uncertainty exploded into the space after the kiss, the kiss that was her fault, an awful failure of aim and timing and choreography that left him with a wet spot where a dimple would be if he had one. a silent freeze frame of dilating pupils, reddening skin, the choked fragment of a laugh. the pull of the air around her toward the escape hatch that was the door, until he broke in with a mess of confused word-pieces and stuttering shock:

"wh- wh- why did you d- do that?"

"i thought it was a shame that no girl had ever simply grabbed you and kissed you." he once told her that he'd never been suddenly and unexpectedly kissed. "i sort of missed, though."

there was none of the suave lover in her when she kissed him that first time, in the cramped, cluttered stock room in the back of the bookstore. it was all rushed and hasty and bite-the-bullet-ish, from the cigarette she'd smoked nervously earlier, when she made up her mind to kiss him, to the way she tried to apologize beforehand for the inappropriateness of the act ("um, garble mumble mumble hum"), to the flustered "fuck it" that escaped her lips only a second before they landed on his face.

"do you want to try again?" he asked.

she tried again. and again. thousands of times.

2003-06-19T10:12:00.000-07:00

i drove to LA on tuesday to see a friend of mine play her first gig at a restaurant in hollywood. i'd never heard her play before, i wasn't even sure what kind of music she wrote. i had no idea what to expect.

and she was good. i was utterly stunned! she sat prettily on stage with two boys, two guitars, a violin and a mandolin and made very sweet, very good music, and i got chills. i've known just enough musical hopefuls to recognize a group that is made mostly of hollow expectations, and this sure wasn't one. keep your ear open for the apple core snipers.

(anita coats knocked me over, too. she has a record out and it's defintely worth a listen.)

2003-06-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

someone found this site by searching for "sex addiction"!

i'm not going to say anything about that. i'm just going to continue laughing here by myself.

giggle.

2003-06-16T17:41:00.000-07:00

got sick of that third dimension

2003-06-13T12:18:00.000-07:00

today i'm in the vice chancellor's office, filling in for his secretary while everyone in the office is in a meeting. all i have to do is answer the phone if it rings, which means i have several hours to eat peanut butter m&ms and read. i could really get into this.
ever since my flight home from oakland on sunday, i've been thinking about plane relationships. you know what i'm talking about: the sudden intimate friendships that flourish for a few short hours of travel. i don't go for that kind of thing. i'll shake your hand and introduce myself, i'll smile politely as you settle in next to me, hell, i'll even ignore you when you say, "gee, i hope you fine ladies don't decide to gang up on me!" and wink. but i am not interested, no offense, in your failed marraige, in what an attention-grabbing hypocrite your wife is, in how much you're paying your lawyer. and it amazes me that some people are interested. we hadn't even finished boarding on sunday and the woman two seats down from me already knew so much about the man between us that she could tell him exactly what he needed to do to fix his life. "you just need to CUT TIES with that awful woman." by being within hearing distance of their conversation i found out more about a total stranger's love life than some of my closest friends know about mine.
i was reading my ex-boss's online diary (it doesn't seem like a 'blog') and found some real gems in her lovelorn ramblings about her affair with a married man (my other ex-boss). an example: I never really told him my opinion of his wife because, well, if you can't say anything nice... But he decided he wanted to know, so I told him. I didn't say everything I wanted to say, but I got most of it out. I said, "She's a bitch."
hey, new york? hello, boston? see you in september.

2003-06-12T11:14:00.000-07:00

re: the internet.

it's not stopping but it's slowing down.

don't you think?

2003-06-11T11:50:00.000-07:00

reasons i may have been up until not long before the wispy arms of dawn started to emerge along the skyline:

moonlit surfing
an affair with a college professor
rappelling down a building to steal diamonds
hiding in the zoo after closing time; swiping the two-headed snake
sex in a clock tower
designing the perfect bra
mom showing me about her college years speed habit
moonlighting as a bouncer
thwarting mayor murphy assassination attempt
writing ~~this post~~ my novel
attending a high school prom
finding and taking those "watch for illegal immigrant families" highway signs
watching gilligan marathon
on the phone with my best friend in burma

2003-06-11T04:03:00.000-07:00

good morning, east coasters!

i almost just wrote "east coasterners." for my excuse, please see the time stamp.

2003-06-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

you know you live in san diego when wearing close-toed shoes makes you feel "wintery."

2003-06-09T10:38:00.000-07:00

i'll let you in on a secret. i consider myself intelligent, but i'm fairly sure that, upon meeting me for the first time, people can't tell.

so imagine the state my nerves were in as i walked (see below) from my brother's place to gaylord's coffee house to meet greg of "geese aplenty", someone i was sure would respond to anything less than rapier wit and dizzying intelligence by striking down the culprit with some sort of conversational trident or a rod of intellectual lightning. frightening scenarios ran through my mind, scenarios that involved me asking, "so, where are the geese?" and laughing desperatey, scenarios that involved greg saying, "you weren't kidding about the 'poser' bit," and walking away in an insulted huff, scenarios that ended with a disgraceful exit from blogdom and from the respect of its elites.

but if greg was disappointed in me, he didn't show it. he was as funny as he is on his website (and i showed my appreciation of his humor by coughing heartily, which is like laughing heartily for the infirm), and he was as nice as he is in his comments (though he says "dude" less, i think).

and when i emailed him afterwards with a less than eloquent "you're cool in person!", he responded with a comment that included the words "charm" and "pulchritude" and reminded me how fortunate i am to have enlisted the internet friendship of someone who can always make me feel good by complimenting me with a word i don't know. (but i looked it up, and in case you didn't know either, "charm" means "the quality of pleasing or delighting".)

so the moral of the story is, i either a) come off better than i thought i did, or b) am happily oblivious to the disenchantment of others upon meeting me in person for the first time. either way, though, i got a hand delivered mix cd out of the deal, so i figure i win.

2003-06-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

an internet break from my real-life break.

i would move to oakland simply for the ten minute walk i just took from a coffee house to my brother's apartment. it went like this:

- stroll down charming, neighborhoodly downtown street;
- cross over small wooded block;
- take short dirt path to arterial; cross arterial;
- walk up residential street;
- when passing father and daughter who have tied one end of a jump rope to a tree so father can swing the other end and daughter can jump through, hop through yourself (failing miserably is okay) and exchange friendly hello;
- turn onto sheltered, hidden concrete path up the hill, crowned at the top with a steep, rustic-looking staircase;
- emerge onto winding uphill road and follow it up;
- turn into courtyard with view of oakland, san francisco and the bridges and bay in between, and you're home.

a walk in san diego (i should say la jolla, actually; it's its own species of town) goes like this:

- walk out of apartment complex and cross street. watch out for jaguars driven by doctors (you'll know them by their personalized license plates e.g. "DR JAG", "MY VETTE", etc.), because "pedestrian" just means "speed bump" to them;
- head to the intersection with the four-way stop. you'll know when you've gotten there because when you stand in its middle, all you can see is cement from horizon to horizon;
- if you can find the other side of the intersection, keep going down the street. admire the unending rows of townhouse clones, because there's nothing else to see;
- arrive at traffic light. at this point, take out the novel you've brought with you and read it. the light will change around page 315;
- cross the street and turn into parking lot. it's two and a half miles wide with rows of parking spaces separated by lanes that are exactly one car width, and the speed limit is 45. if you can make it across alive, head into the city-sized grocery store;
- because i'm pretty sure that's where everyone in the entire town hangs out most of the time.

(they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. i guess 500 miles isn't far enough.)

2003-06-05T11:36:00.000-07:00

photos!

this is a rare sort of picture, as my collection goes -- not posed, not facing the camera; candid, but not in the "this is how i normally look, because i'm normally staring stupidly into space" kind of way -- so i like it, even though i can pick out little imperfections, like the way my smile always seems to overgrow my mouth.

why post it? i don't know. maybe narcissism. why question the urge?

tonight i will fly up to the bay area to ~~spread this insidious, undying cough! mwah ha ha!~~ visit my older brother and sister, who live in oakland and berkelely, respectively. spending time with them is a complete delight for me, so i'm pretty excited. i love that they are a smidge older than i am -- my sister turned 36 this year and my brother is 34 -- because it puts just enough space between them and i for me to learn from them. this is something i find more difficult to do with the two siblings i have that are closer to my own age, who are easier to bicker and banter with than admire and glean advice from.

and i learn so much. from my brother i've learned not to roll in poison oak. from my sister i've learned always to pull my navel toward my spine while doing pilates. most importantly, from both of them i learn of all the dirt on my dad that us younger kids never found out about.

us, oh, twenty years ago:

2003-06-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

warning: spleen vented ahead.

last week at an informal dinner party, a man took a long, careful look at me and said, "you must have one american parent."

how does this shit fly anymore?

i have two american parents, thank you. and if you want to climb three or four levels up my family tree, you'll find chinese. pray they don't hit you over your ugly head with their chopsticks, racist prick.*

* one person asked upon hearing this anecdote if the man was really racist or simply tactless. well, he also opined to my muslim aunt that most muslims are terrorists, and he was telling at length of his amazement over mexicans who "don't even speak mexican" (gasp! spanish is an imported language?). you can decide.

2003-06-03T14:22:00.000-07:00

~~ah, codeine.~~

codeine, i expected more of you, frankly. updated at a notably not cough-free 3:26 a.m.

2003-06-02T12:11:00.000-07:00

it's still a challenge to breathe without collapsing in a coughing fit, but at least i can now look at the computer screen without my head spinning. in honor of that, some ideas apple abandoned:

iRoll -- wheelchair.
iBrowse -- internet browser.

2003-05-29T21:32:00.000-07:00

okay. it's definitely the flu. it's been a long time since i've had it, but it made itself known. i hope i recover in time to see liz phair and the flaming lips tomorrow night. actually, i just hope i make it to tomorrow night.

blah.

2003-05-29T11:18:00.000-07:00

i haven't been feeling so well lately. i'm weary all the time so i sleep for twelve hours which leads only to more weariness. i have a strange, painful cough. i seem to be doing everything more slowly than usual, including the updating of this blog. it's odd. anyway, this is not to garner pity -- there are web crises and real tragedies that deserve our sympathy -- but just to say: don't go away, more bloggy love will return shortly. (sing nickelodeon "after these messages" ditty to yourself now.)

2003-05-27T11:01:00.000-07:00

inventive.

him: how much does the average bra cost?
me: depends on where you buy it. victoria's secret, $26 - $36.
him: i'm going to design a bra and it's going to cost $700.
me: what kind of bra?
him: it's going to have a weight-sensitivity device and self-adjusting straps.
me: not a bad idea. actually, could it be tension-sensitive? i like the straps to have a certain tautness.
him: well, tension is just an observation of weight. besides, what happens when you're running or going down a flight of stairs?
me: um, bouncing?
him: exactly. that would be prevented.
me: cool. would the bra be sexy, as well?
him: no. it will be ugly.
me: (laughing.)
him: also, it will come attached to a backpack to hold all the wiring and instrumentation.
me: (further laughing.)
him: you could take off the backpack, but then it would just be a regular bra.

2003-05-23T10:09:00.000-07:00

okay. no more seeing crazies in concert. as much as i loved cat power last month, as much as i enjoyed elliott smith last night, it's just too nerve-wracking to worry constantly that a performer will suddenly get stage fright and forget a song. i do feel fortunate, though, because elliott's completed-song rate was about 70% -- higher than i fretted it would be after hearing some foreboding tales of his on-stage caliber.

it's a lot easier to forgive a performer for their mistakes when you're standing six feet away. mostly i wanted to give him a big hug and say, "don't mind these screaming drunkards telling you what to play. i realize you don't remember 'condor avenue', you've said so several times, and it's okay. just play whatever you're able." because i was so close, i could see his eyes dart around in panic when he made mistakes, and i could see his hand start to shake as he tried to rescue a song from error. so there was a tendency for me to let things slide -- a forgiveness i might not have had if i'd been standing in the thankless back of the bar, unable to see the guy, in all his brilliance and intoxication and fright.

all in all, i really enjoyed the show, even though the audience proved to be one of those groups of people you wish you could punch in the collective face with one swing.

2003-05-21T19:29:00.000-07:00

a friend of mine directed me to the poll on the american idol website which asks the following question:

do you know who the next american idol will be? [ y / n ]

presumably, the brains behind american idol are interested in the prescient abilities of its targeted audience. in effect, voters are asked to choose between two options:

"yes, i can predict the future." OR
"no, i cannot predict the future."

i found this infinitely amusing. but that's not all.

as of the time of this posting, the results for the poll are as follows:

14% NO
86% YES
number of voters: 205,987

the implications of these findings are staggering. apparently, when clay or ruben is crowned with this year's honor, only 14% of the show's fans will be surprised.

and, even more notably, this means american idol has identified 177,148 telepathic people.

2003-05-21T12:15:00.000-07:00

my building sits on the edge of the torrey pines golf course. today, as i strolled there from the deli where i bought my lunch, i paused for a moment to take in the cool mist that had just rolled in, and watched the golfers on the other side of the fence.

i was thinking. and you know, i wish i were interested in golf. because then, when events like the buick invitational are played here or people like tiger woods are across the way, i'd be more able to appreciate them. as things are, the most i can say is, "hey, there's the goodyear blimp! that thing looks like it's going to land!"

i can't help feeling that the blimp is the last thing i'm supposed to ogle.

but in my defense, it really was flying low. i half-expected it to waltz into my building.

2003-05-20T19:02:00.000-07:00

about a year ago, our office hired a temp. i never knew why. but one day, the computer in the conference area was out of use, and the next day, suddenly, it was powered on, with a picture of bob dylan's face tiled across the desktop and an eccentric kid staring calmly at it. the kid had longish, dirty blond hair and crooked, spacey teeth. he dressed entirely in black and wore black boots with pointy heels and pointy toes.

sam worked in our office for a month or two, sometimes wandering into our cubicles to talk or hear us talk or collect our dirty work. his last week there was a week i spent in spokane, and before i left, knowing he'd be gone when i returned, he gave me a note written in thick gold ink on thick red paper. in it, he told me how much he liked me and how special he thought i was and how wonderful it would be if i ever wanted to call him -- though if not, of course, no problem -- and how no matter what, i should "just keep smiling that gorgeous smile of" mine.

i was busy with other things when i got home from spokane, like being in love and sunning on the beach and pretending that this strange young man had never professed his weirdly tender interest in me. he came to visit us several times, when i was coincidentally out of the office, and i never saw him again.

until last week. he's back, hired as an assistant to someone whose office door is immediately adjacent to ours, meaning that sam's desk is directly outside of -- practically obscuring -- our office suite door. i wasn't notified of his return to the department and when i saw him the first time i did a classic double-take.

"hi!..." and, upon the empty pause, "...sam?"

he looked up at me, expressionless. "yeah," he replied after a moment, with the tone of someone pointing out the dreadfully obvious, "hi."

he so clearly didn't want to talk. i ended the conversation and left quickly. i'd assumed he had forgotten the note he gave me a year ago, especially given his eager admission that no call from me would be fine (with the condition that i continue smiling). had he been more upset than i imagined, and was he still upset after all this time? i don't understand his sudden remarkable unfriendliness. it's profoundly awkward and unnatural to ignore someone i see by necessity every time i enter or leave my office, but he ignores me so intently that i see little other choice for me other than to reciprocate.

he comes into our cubicles, like he used to, though less often, and now he doesn't speak to me --only to the other analysts. once he came in while i was away from my desk. when i returned he'd lain down a wrapped korean cracker by my keyboard. i forgot to take it home that day and the next day it was gone.

2003-05-19T16:52:00.001-07:00

a weekend with dad.

my father never ceases to surprise me. this is a man who makes me wish i'd brought a tape recorder to our discussions so that i could publish his comments and experiences in a best-selling memoir. a man who begins sentences with, "i read four books this morning...". a man who already impresses me with his full scholarships to princeton and yale and his fullbright scholarship and all his degrees in political science and who then decides to add to all that with the offhand comment, "did i tell you i got a masters degree in counseling psychology some years ago?"

i never leave our conversations without feeling supremely interested and quietly thoughtful and somehow enlightened. i truly believe that some of the beauty that spills so effortlessly from his lips belongs on paper. i nearly came to tears when he told me about the summer he spent in london as an undergraduate, falling for a french girl, feeling profoundly rejected by her distanced manner, being unable to cope with the divergence between his injured emotions and his reasonable mind, perceiving the world of feeling tear painfully apart from the world of rationality, realizing now, forty years later, that the darkest period of the summer and one of the most difficult times of his life was so dimmed by the unavailable affection of this extraordinary girl.

though, it still turns my stomach a little when he makes mention of "intercourse."

2003-05-19T12:14:00.001-07:00

seriously. tell me what is better than an afternoon off spent in a cute bikini by the pool.