if you're interested in seeing more (for whatever reason), check it.
Jul 10, 2008
irate in the caribbean
here're a few photos of my recent central american rendezvous. incidentally, "here're" is my favorite contraction.
if you're interested in seeing more (for whatever reason), check it.
if you're interested in seeing more (for whatever reason), check it.
i'm currently too tired to think of a fancy title
(for Bloomsbury):
2007 was the first year that I can remember in my then-twenty-five-year-long life that I didn’t attend a fourth of July picnic at my grandma and grandpa’s house.
My grandparents live in the small town of Massillon, Ohio, just a few miles from my parents’ house, the house I grew up in in Canton, Ohio. The rest of my family a generation or two in either direction lives, at the most, about fifty miles away with the notable exception of myself, since I live about two thousand miles away (and am never allowed to forget it by my extended family at any gathering). My family, as far as my own experience goes at least, is extremely antisocial when it comes to just random visits and staying in touch with one another, but at the same time we are fiercely insistent and traditional about holiday family gatherings. Along with Christmas and Thanksgiving, the fourth of July is probably the third-most insisted-upon family function of the year.
Every year since I can remember we have all come together at my grandparents’ house. The menu is always the same, the living room and the picnic area in the backyard is always laid out the same…it’s sort of comforting in a strange way, though it also seems borderline neurotic now that I’m considering it objectively. My grandma always makes the same red-white-and-blue Jello dessert, which I had a major love affair with when I was between the ages of about nine and twelve. The grownups always spend the afternoon sitting in a semicircle of chairs on the lawn, talking about whatever it is grownups talk about (even though I’m almost twenty-seven now I still don’t know what grownups talk about), while the kids (and me) play all sort of various games involving balls and sticks and yelling. Occasionally the grownups will get out their ancient, actually-traditional Bocce ball set, and we’ll end up playing that until it gets too dark to see. Then the sparklers come out, and the kids (and me) spend awhile writing our names in the dark, waiting for the fireworks to start. Nobody on my grandparents’ street have bona fide fireworks of their own: for one, it’s illegal to set them off and the houses are packed too close together for something that potentially dangerous anyway. Fortunately, the city has their own fireworks display (or used to, as of this year, but that’s a story for another day).
This fireworks display comes with an onslaught of patriotic music and people honking their pickup-truck horns in the streets, but this display had become so ingrained in my head as tradition by the time I got old enough to be jaded towards it that it never occurred to me that I could be jaded towards it. It was pretty much the perfect summer picnic activity; all it was missing was a pool.
So last year it was somewhat surreal to find myself in Boston on July fourth, sitting on a sandbar that was in the process of being swallowed by the ocean, surrounded by hundreds of people that I didn’t know and four people that I did, with no grandparents or tricolor dessert in sight. My parents and my brother and his then-girlfriend took a summer vacation last year to the east coast, and I decided to come along, after realizing that my alternative plan of “staying home and working” would probably really become “staying home and doing nothing and being bored senseless”. So on July fourth we were sitting on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, gearing up for the best fireworks display the original thirteen colonies could offer. This particular display had drawn such a crowd – both locals and tourists like us – that we had needed to park close to two miles away and walk to the beach.
It was odd being away from home for the fireworks, stranger still knowing that the party was still going on at my grandparents’ sans my immediate family, but the beach, the fireworks, the incredibly sunset and the surprising camaraderie shown by fellow beachgoers that we had never even met before made the experience more than a fitting replacement.
2007 was the first year that I can remember in my then-twenty-five-year-long life that I didn’t attend a fourth of July picnic at my grandma and grandpa’s house.
My grandparents live in the small town of Massillon, Ohio, just a few miles from my parents’ house, the house I grew up in in Canton, Ohio. The rest of my family a generation or two in either direction lives, at the most, about fifty miles away with the notable exception of myself, since I live about two thousand miles away (and am never allowed to forget it by my extended family at any gathering). My family, as far as my own experience goes at least, is extremely antisocial when it comes to just random visits and staying in touch with one another, but at the same time we are fiercely insistent and traditional about holiday family gatherings. Along with Christmas and Thanksgiving, the fourth of July is probably the third-most insisted-upon family function of the year.
Every year since I can remember we have all come together at my grandparents’ house. The menu is always the same, the living room and the picnic area in the backyard is always laid out the same…it’s sort of comforting in a strange way, though it also seems borderline neurotic now that I’m considering it objectively. My grandma always makes the same red-white-and-blue Jello dessert, which I had a major love affair with when I was between the ages of about nine and twelve. The grownups always spend the afternoon sitting in a semicircle of chairs on the lawn, talking about whatever it is grownups talk about (even though I’m almost twenty-seven now I still don’t know what grownups talk about), while the kids (and me) play all sort of various games involving balls and sticks and yelling. Occasionally the grownups will get out their ancient, actually-traditional Bocce ball set, and we’ll end up playing that until it gets too dark to see. Then the sparklers come out, and the kids (and me) spend awhile writing our names in the dark, waiting for the fireworks to start. Nobody on my grandparents’ street have bona fide fireworks of their own: for one, it’s illegal to set them off and the houses are packed too close together for something that potentially dangerous anyway. Fortunately, the city has their own fireworks display (or used to, as of this year, but that’s a story for another day).
This fireworks display comes with an onslaught of patriotic music and people honking their pickup-truck horns in the streets, but this display had become so ingrained in my head as tradition by the time I got old enough to be jaded towards it that it never occurred to me that I could be jaded towards it. It was pretty much the perfect summer picnic activity; all it was missing was a pool.
So last year it was somewhat surreal to find myself in Boston on July fourth, sitting on a sandbar that was in the process of being swallowed by the ocean, surrounded by hundreds of people that I didn’t know and four people that I did, with no grandparents or tricolor dessert in sight. My parents and my brother and his then-girlfriend took a summer vacation last year to the east coast, and I decided to come along, after realizing that my alternative plan of “staying home and working” would probably really become “staying home and doing nothing and being bored senseless”. So on July fourth we were sitting on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, gearing up for the best fireworks display the original thirteen colonies could offer. This particular display had drawn such a crowd – both locals and tourists like us – that we had needed to park close to two miles away and walk to the beach.
It was odd being away from home for the fireworks, stranger still knowing that the party was still going on at my grandparents’ sans my immediate family, but the beach, the fireworks, the incredibly sunset and the surprising camaraderie shown by fellow beachgoers that we had never even met before made the experience more than a fitting replacement.
i can't believe i'm saying this...
...but in commenting on the latest internet-fed pointless film-interpretation controversy, gawker, of all fucking sites, has made the most salient comment i've seen thus far regarding people who hate wall-e. check out a decent summation of the hatred and gawker's quote here.
i'm sitting on bowes's couch being untired. as soon as i get sick of playing "oracle of ages", i'll post more.
i'm sitting on bowes's couch being untired. as soon as i get sick of playing "oracle of ages", i'll post more.
Jul 7, 2008
fake nameology
since i already mentioned "elizabethtown" in my previous post, i wanted to point out another, related line from the film that amuses me.
kirsten dunst's character, who is a sort of amateur nameologist (or whatever you call those people who say things like "oh, janes are always tall and assertive, and jims are short and like seafood"), says of her current boyfriend, a guy named ben: "bens are strangely delightful. and very intuitive. complex. almost too complex to be around." that always amused me. it seems appropriate. though i'm not sure i'd classify myself as delightful.
kirsten dunst's character, who is a sort of amateur nameologist (or whatever you call those people who say things like "oh, janes are always tall and assertive, and jims are short and like seafood"), says of her current boyfriend, a guy named ben: "bens are strangely delightful. and very intuitive. complex. almost too complex to be around." that always amused me. it seems appropriate. though i'm not sure i'd classify myself as delightful.
carving up darkness with highbeams
i had a nice drive home last night. it's been a really long time since i've driven on the highway at night, which is one of my favorite things to do. the last time i did it was probably in western montana last summer, on my way back to pullman. because after that, my car was out of action for a long time with a few needed repairs, and the only time i did anything resembling road-tripping was when i rented that ford focus and drove to salem and seattle in january, but pretty much ninety percent of the driving for that was during the day, and the other ten percent featured me having to concentrate on a snowstorm and trying to stay on the road, so i didn't exactly have time to sit back and relax.
but last night was just the drive from kent to canton on I-76/77, a drive i've probably made as many times in my life as a lot of people make the drive up the street to the supermarket (i've walked to the supermarket for eight years, so that drops my average).
it's always good for me to get out in the dark in a car by myself, because at this point, for better or worse, i often zone out pretty significantly while highway driving. it's the closest thing i get to meditation. highway driving in the day doesn't really work because there's enough traffic that zoning out makes it likely you'll kill someone.
anyway, there's a scene in the movie "elizabethtown" (after another recent viewing, i've decided it's absolutely one of my favorite movies...i'll fight with you about it if you want) where the kirsten dunst character, having just set the orlando bloom character on a cross-country road trip using a map that she designed after following him through a series of misadventures including a few epic fuck-ups on his part, tell him of the impending road trip: "don't call me until you get home. i want you to get into the deep, beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened". this is sort of how i feel about night driving. i feel strongly enough about it that i've been known to purposely turn my phone and all other communication devices off for days at a time while driving. it forces me to deal with the things in life that you instinctively want to avoid, don't want to think about, or in the case of some people, over-obsess about. there are a lot of sad things that happen, and sometimes it's hard for me to remember that this is a pretty necessary part of life, in order to help put the good things in perspective. sometimes it's easy to think "that's bad, so i should avoid it", but i don't think the same principle applies to emotional health that applies to, say, eating. emotional problems are sort of like cavities. the longer you ignore them, the worse they get, and they never, EVER go away on their own, even if sometimes it seems like they're gone for awhile. so i guess night driving is my equivalent of a dentist's checkup.
anyway, it was nice to be able to reflect on some bad things (as strange as that sounds) after having a few days' worth of good things. once again, for the sake of not taking the good things for granted.
i've been having a really good time lately up in kent, and i'm definitely sad to leave. i'm hoping to get up there a few more times before i fly out, but i'm not sure how or when yet.
getting to catch back up with my friends is always one of the better parts of any trip home, but this time it's been especially great. part of it is because of getting to be friends with dana again (i think i mentioned that yesterday) and for me personally to be able to accept that relationship as it is for the first time in what seems like a decade. part of it is that so many people have been around lately (including a few people who usually live out of state or who i haven't seen in years rather than months). part of it is knowing that there are still going to be at least a few people around when i come back in the winter. and part of it is that we've all been getting out frequently and really doing things, like hiking and playing frisbee, etc.
usually when i come home there's mostly a lot of TV-watching and sleeping late. i'm okay with this somewhat, because these are the two things i never do in pullman and so it's neat to get to do them a bit. but at the same time, fairly often i sort of feel like "well, i don't really want to do this, but my friends are doing it and i want to see them, so i'll do it because they're fun to hang out with regardless". i think it might have something to do with my friend john's insistence on getting us all out of the house frequently, but lately we've all actually been doing things as a group, and, well, it's really fucking fun. occasionally i need a day or so to recover afterwards, but it's still fun. yesterday at some point during our ultimate frisbee game i thought to myself how little people our age (other than occasionally the people i was currently playing with) do things like play games, or run, or do anything physical that isn't entirely self-centered. i don't mean "self-centered" in the inherently negative way it's usually meant, i just mean that it seems like most of the time people our age do physical activity, if they do it at all, it's running by themselves, or working out by themselves, or doing yoga by themselves (some of these things take place in a room with other people, sometimes a room of people who all already know each other, but they don't require the amount of interaction that, say, a UT game or basketball game does). lately i've realized how badly i really miss playing games with people, exercising while having an inherent part of that exercise be communicating, cooperating, and competing with other people. and i think i'm going to miss the hell out of that when i get to pullman.
of course, after they cut down all the FUCKING TREES OUTSIDE OF AVERY, i'm sure we could play frisbee on that field. bah.
anyway, i just had to get that off my chest. because it's been really fun lately, and i'm going to miss it once we disband for the fall.
there were lots of other things i was ruminating over last night, but i probably couldn't talk about them without embarrassing certain people. so there it is.
i'll embarrass myself instead: i watched "ultraviolet" and "lara croft tomb raider: the cradle of life" last night. seriously.
also, i'm two posts behind on bloomsbury. i think i'm going to do one today. i like larry's prompt, but i'm trying to do a song instead of a journal entry for it. that's why it's taking so long. i think i'm going to go tackle donna's right now, though.
but last night was just the drive from kent to canton on I-76/77, a drive i've probably made as many times in my life as a lot of people make the drive up the street to the supermarket (i've walked to the supermarket for eight years, so that drops my average).
it's always good for me to get out in the dark in a car by myself, because at this point, for better or worse, i often zone out pretty significantly while highway driving. it's the closest thing i get to meditation. highway driving in the day doesn't really work because there's enough traffic that zoning out makes it likely you'll kill someone.
anyway, there's a scene in the movie "elizabethtown" (after another recent viewing, i've decided it's absolutely one of my favorite movies...i'll fight with you about it if you want) where the kirsten dunst character, having just set the orlando bloom character on a cross-country road trip using a map that she designed after following him through a series of misadventures including a few epic fuck-ups on his part, tell him of the impending road trip: "don't call me until you get home. i want you to get into the deep, beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened". this is sort of how i feel about night driving. i feel strongly enough about it that i've been known to purposely turn my phone and all other communication devices off for days at a time while driving. it forces me to deal with the things in life that you instinctively want to avoid, don't want to think about, or in the case of some people, over-obsess about. there are a lot of sad things that happen, and sometimes it's hard for me to remember that this is a pretty necessary part of life, in order to help put the good things in perspective. sometimes it's easy to think "that's bad, so i should avoid it", but i don't think the same principle applies to emotional health that applies to, say, eating. emotional problems are sort of like cavities. the longer you ignore them, the worse they get, and they never, EVER go away on their own, even if sometimes it seems like they're gone for awhile. so i guess night driving is my equivalent of a dentist's checkup.
anyway, it was nice to be able to reflect on some bad things (as strange as that sounds) after having a few days' worth of good things. once again, for the sake of not taking the good things for granted.
i've been having a really good time lately up in kent, and i'm definitely sad to leave. i'm hoping to get up there a few more times before i fly out, but i'm not sure how or when yet.
getting to catch back up with my friends is always one of the better parts of any trip home, but this time it's been especially great. part of it is because of getting to be friends with dana again (i think i mentioned that yesterday) and for me personally to be able to accept that relationship as it is for the first time in what seems like a decade. part of it is that so many people have been around lately (including a few people who usually live out of state or who i haven't seen in years rather than months). part of it is knowing that there are still going to be at least a few people around when i come back in the winter. and part of it is that we've all been getting out frequently and really doing things, like hiking and playing frisbee, etc.
usually when i come home there's mostly a lot of TV-watching and sleeping late. i'm okay with this somewhat, because these are the two things i never do in pullman and so it's neat to get to do them a bit. but at the same time, fairly often i sort of feel like "well, i don't really want to do this, but my friends are doing it and i want to see them, so i'll do it because they're fun to hang out with regardless". i think it might have something to do with my friend john's insistence on getting us all out of the house frequently, but lately we've all actually been doing things as a group, and, well, it's really fucking fun. occasionally i need a day or so to recover afterwards, but it's still fun. yesterday at some point during our ultimate frisbee game i thought to myself how little people our age (other than occasionally the people i was currently playing with) do things like play games, or run, or do anything physical that isn't entirely self-centered. i don't mean "self-centered" in the inherently negative way it's usually meant, i just mean that it seems like most of the time people our age do physical activity, if they do it at all, it's running by themselves, or working out by themselves, or doing yoga by themselves (some of these things take place in a room with other people, sometimes a room of people who all already know each other, but they don't require the amount of interaction that, say, a UT game or basketball game does). lately i've realized how badly i really miss playing games with people, exercising while having an inherent part of that exercise be communicating, cooperating, and competing with other people. and i think i'm going to miss the hell out of that when i get to pullman.
of course, after they cut down all the FUCKING TREES OUTSIDE OF AVERY, i'm sure we could play frisbee on that field. bah.
anyway, i just had to get that off my chest. because it's been really fun lately, and i'm going to miss it once we disband for the fall.
there were lots of other things i was ruminating over last night, but i probably couldn't talk about them without embarrassing certain people. so there it is.
i'll embarrass myself instead: i watched "ultraviolet" and "lara croft tomb raider: the cradle of life" last night. seriously.
also, i'm two posts behind on bloomsbury. i think i'm going to do one today. i like larry's prompt, but i'm trying to do a song instead of a journal entry for it. that's why it's taking so long. i think i'm going to go tackle donna's right now, though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)