I have apparently done something to offend postage stamps. They regularly have a mass exodus from the box they are kept in under my desk. Can't think of what it is.
Is there a stamp pilgrimage or Hajj that I am unaware of? If so, I have very devout stamps.
TODAY? The AWKWARD
1. Wanting dexterity in the use of the hands, or of instruments; not dexterous; without skill; clumsy; wanting ease, grace, or effectiveness in movement; ungraceful; as, he was awkward at a trick; an awkward boy. [1913 Webster]
2. Not easily managed or effected; embarrassing.
"An awkward affair is one that has gone wrong, and is difficult to adjust." --C. J. Smith.
3. Perverse; adverse; untoward.
I throw around the word "awkward" frequently. This is largely because I have learned to embrace it. People spend so much of their life trying to escape what they perceive to be awkward, as it is admittedly an uncomfortable experience. But awkward is certainly yet another way to look at the world.
Even the most suave person has a great potential for awkward--whether it is awkwardness of the limbs or a situation.
Awkward is also a bonding experience. If you survive an awkward situation with someone, you will be able to commiserate over it later in life. Unless it’s the sort of awkward where you never want to think about it ever, ever again. Then it will probably have the opposite effect.
I may be putting the awkward aside after this summer, but my studying of all that is awkward has led me to understand that awkward is all in the timing. I've always had a pretty good grasp on timing, so changing it slightly to allow for awkward to ensue is not that difficult.
Say something a second too soon, a second too late (or five minutes too early/late, if you reeeeally want to go for the gold), and you have some awkward on your hands.
By living in a constant state of awkward as shown in the second definition, it is entirely possible you will take on some of the physical attributes of awkward. At least, this is my experience.
(AHHHH FLOBOTS WHY?! Sorry, Pandora Radio just ambushed me with "Handlebars.")
While the awkward has served me well as both an experiment and a defense mechanism, I think I will have to severely cut back on the amount of awkward I introduce into my own life. It can help, but does not usually go over well in interviews. One cannot allow it to become an ingrained habit. Obviously exterior awkwardness will obviously still have a place in my life.
On this note, I must now go buy more stamps, and hold them hostage until the others come out of hiding.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Otters Made Me Do It
"It's because of the pigeons," he said, nodding in agreement with himself, “they use them to track me."
We both glanced up to the flock of pigeons roosting on the roof of Peet's Coffee Shop. From that distance, it did look as though they were focusing their avian attentions on us, but in reality it was were probably waiting for someone to drop some food. But I had begun to realize that "reality" wasn't a place that my new friend seemed to stay for long. We'll call him "Ted."
I'd seen him sitting at the firepit outside Peet's occasionally, where I would wait for the bus on cooler days. Ted was in his 60's, or possibly 40's or 50's, homeless, and more than a little crazy. The former was probably caused by the latter, in this case. He seemed to know a great deal about music, religion, and economics. And pigeons, apparently.
Our conversation had been relatively normal until he had made the leap from grain prices in Africa to pigeons, and how the Swiss were using them to track him. The pigeons were apparently at fault for any misfortunes that befell him as well.
As it is difficult to go anywhere in Monterey without pigeons, seagulls, or the evidence of their having been there quite recently, Ted probably was not having the best time hiding out there.
"Oh. Well. Best to avoid them, then," I said, gathering my Arabic notebook into my purse. The firepit outside of Peet’s was a nice place to sit, but it seemed many of my conversation had rather abrupt expiration dates.
---
The past few months have not been overly eventful, but haven't lacked excitement. I have moved into 2 new apartments since June, had a bike stolen, started and finished an intensive Arabic program, adventured around the Monterey Peninsula, took long walks on the beach, drank pina coladas, attended seya sayyida (happy hour), eaten a great deal of Lebanese food, and spent time with some great folks. Most of them are not homeless or crazy, but I have somehow managed to become acquainted with the bums in Monterey. They're helping me to hunt down my stolen bicycle.
Sadly, I can't hang out at the firepit as often as I did, due to scheduling, and because Peet's is potentially going to be one of my new jobs. Peets and Bubba Gumps Shrimping Co. As I read up about every job I apply for, minimum wage or otherwise, I now know a good deal more about Peets and Bubba Gumps than strictly necessary. But here are some fun tidbits.
Peets was originally established in 1966 by a Mr. Alfred Peet, a German immigrant who was appalled by the caliber of coffee that Americans consumed. Good man. Also after Peets was established, Mr. Peet shared much of his coffee knowledge with a budding coffee company known as "Starbucks."
And as for Bubba Gumps (hopefully everyone gets the Forest Gump reference here), the location here is apparently the first Bubba Gump Shrimping Co. that was ever established. The restaurant is right on the shore, and has a great feel to it. I'm actually looking forward to working there.
Money-wise, things are tighter than I'd like, but I should be used to this by now. Now that I am living in a much cheaper apartment, I expect the next few months to be a bit better. I’ve been working on ruthlessly convincing myself that I do not have any money. This endeavor is helped along by the fact that I have an otter on my Monterey Credit Union debit card. Everytime I take out the card to buy something that I do not need to survive, the otter gives me a disapproving look.
Barista: Okay, so a coffee and a Danish. Will that be all for you today?
Me: Yup! ::reaches for wallet and pulls out card::
Otter: Why are you doing this? You don't need that coffee. You can make coffee at home.
Me: But it's Plumes. And look at that Danish. Tell me you don't want that Danish.
Otter: I'm an otter on your debit card. I don't want that Danish.
Me: Well... you don't know what you're missing. ::goes to hand the card to barista::
Otter: Don't you dare buy that!
Me: FINE. You don't let me have any fun.
Barista: Ma'am... are you feeling okay?
Okay, so these conversations don't actually happen. If they did, I would have no right to classify someone who believes the pigeons are tracking him as crazy.
I'm sure there is more, such as the interesting but non-crazy folk I know here, classes, etc. That'll be for another day.
We both glanced up to the flock of pigeons roosting on the roof of Peet's Coffee Shop. From that distance, it did look as though they were focusing their avian attentions on us, but in reality it was were probably waiting for someone to drop some food. But I had begun to realize that "reality" wasn't a place that my new friend seemed to stay for long. We'll call him "Ted."
I'd seen him sitting at the firepit outside Peet's occasionally, where I would wait for the bus on cooler days. Ted was in his 60's, or possibly 40's or 50's, homeless, and more than a little crazy. The former was probably caused by the latter, in this case. He seemed to know a great deal about music, religion, and economics. And pigeons, apparently.
Our conversation had been relatively normal until he had made the leap from grain prices in Africa to pigeons, and how the Swiss were using them to track him. The pigeons were apparently at fault for any misfortunes that befell him as well.
As it is difficult to go anywhere in Monterey without pigeons, seagulls, or the evidence of their having been there quite recently, Ted probably was not having the best time hiding out there.
"Oh. Well. Best to avoid them, then," I said, gathering my Arabic notebook into my purse. The firepit outside of Peet’s was a nice place to sit, but it seemed many of my conversation had rather abrupt expiration dates.
---
The past few months have not been overly eventful, but haven't lacked excitement. I have moved into 2 new apartments since June, had a bike stolen, started and finished an intensive Arabic program, adventured around the Monterey Peninsula, took long walks on the beach, drank pina coladas, attended seya sayyida (happy hour), eaten a great deal of Lebanese food, and spent time with some great folks. Most of them are not homeless or crazy, but I have somehow managed to become acquainted with the bums in Monterey. They're helping me to hunt down my stolen bicycle.
Sadly, I can't hang out at the firepit as often as I did, due to scheduling, and because Peet's is potentially going to be one of my new jobs. Peets and Bubba Gumps Shrimping Co. As I read up about every job I apply for, minimum wage or otherwise, I now know a good deal more about Peets and Bubba Gumps than strictly necessary. But here are some fun tidbits.
Peets was originally established in 1966 by a Mr. Alfred Peet, a German immigrant who was appalled by the caliber of coffee that Americans consumed. Good man. Also after Peets was established, Mr. Peet shared much of his coffee knowledge with a budding coffee company known as "Starbucks."
And as for Bubba Gumps (hopefully everyone gets the Forest Gump reference here), the location here is apparently the first Bubba Gump Shrimping Co. that was ever established. The restaurant is right on the shore, and has a great feel to it. I'm actually looking forward to working there.
Money-wise, things are tighter than I'd like, but I should be used to this by now. Now that I am living in a much cheaper apartment, I expect the next few months to be a bit better. I’ve been working on ruthlessly convincing myself that I do not have any money. This endeavor is helped along by the fact that I have an otter on my Monterey Credit Union debit card. Everytime I take out the card to buy something that I do not need to survive, the otter gives me a disapproving look.
Barista: Okay, so a coffee and a Danish. Will that be all for you today?
Me: Yup! ::reaches for wallet and pulls out card::
Otter: Why are you doing this? You don't need that coffee. You can make coffee at home.
Me: But it's Plumes. And look at that Danish. Tell me you don't want that Danish.
Otter: I'm an otter on your debit card. I don't want that Danish.
Me: Well... you don't know what you're missing. ::goes to hand the card to barista::
Otter: Don't you dare buy that!
Me: FINE. You don't let me have any fun.
Barista: Ma'am... are you feeling okay?
Okay, so these conversations don't actually happen. If they did, I would have no right to classify someone who believes the pigeons are tracking him as crazy.
I'm sure there is more, such as the interesting but non-crazy folk I know here, classes, etc. That'll be for another day.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Scratch and Sniff or, because it's all been said
I have a strange relationship with Bartlett’s Famous Quotations. We seem to have four or five different editions sitting around the house, the one from 1955 being a bit worse for wear. I’d say it smells a bit like the 1940′s, if I didn’t know better. I also have a strange habit of smelling books in order to ascertain what year they are from.
Depending on how and where they were stored, sniffing the pages can usually give you a pretty accurate idea as to when it was published. Plus, books just smell good. New books aren’t bad, but they don’t have much aroma. Still, I can tell when I walk into a Barnes and Noble on scent alone. Though the ever-present Starbucks may help with that.
But back to the Bartlett’s thing; every day I flip to a random page in Bartlett’s and pick a quote to mull around my brain for the day. Sometimes I will pick an author or two, and take more than one quote with me. This usually happens when I am not in the mood to be serious all day. Or even half the day.
Fitzgerald was today’s random pick: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.”
The other is curtosey of E.B. White:
“Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half the people are right more than half the time.”
I’ve gotten some strange looks when I mention the fact that I am reading Bartlett’s. But I don’t find this obsession with Bartlett’s particularly alarming, as most of time time, whatever you want to say has been said better by someone else.
I was raised in the tradition of these expat writers, to some degree. E.B. White doesn’t exactly count, and I’m on the fence about James Thurber’s expat status, but I’ve always grouped them with the lot. I still remember having Hemmingway, Thurber and White read to me as a child.
White isn’t that surprising of a choice, but James Thurber’s Fables for Our Time probably messed me up for good.
"Early to rise and early to bed
makes a man healthy, wealthy, and dead.”
It’s possible that I was a rather sarcastic and fatalistic 6-year old.
Depending on how and where they were stored, sniffing the pages can usually give you a pretty accurate idea as to when it was published. Plus, books just smell good. New books aren’t bad, but they don’t have much aroma. Still, I can tell when I walk into a Barnes and Noble on scent alone. Though the ever-present Starbucks may help with that.
But back to the Bartlett’s thing; every day I flip to a random page in Bartlett’s and pick a quote to mull around my brain for the day. Sometimes I will pick an author or two, and take more than one quote with me. This usually happens when I am not in the mood to be serious all day. Or even half the day.
Fitzgerald was today’s random pick: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.”
The other is curtosey of E.B. White:
“Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half the people are right more than half the time.”
I’ve gotten some strange looks when I mention the fact that I am reading Bartlett’s. But I don’t find this obsession with Bartlett’s particularly alarming, as most of time time, whatever you want to say has been said better by someone else.
I was raised in the tradition of these expat writers, to some degree. E.B. White doesn’t exactly count, and I’m on the fence about James Thurber’s expat status, but I’ve always grouped them with the lot. I still remember having Hemmingway, Thurber and White read to me as a child.
White isn’t that surprising of a choice, but James Thurber’s Fables for Our Time probably messed me up for good.
"Early to rise and early to bed
makes a man healthy, wealthy, and dead.”
It’s possible that I was a rather sarcastic and fatalistic 6-year old.
Idle Hands and Post-Its
"Every human being has a work to carry on within, duties to perform abroad, influence to exert, which are peculiarly his, and which no conscience but his own can teach." - William Ellery Channing
I tend to have some problems with motivation, I am easily distracted by shiny objects. Post-it notes and quotes are my current cure for the common de-motivation. Put quotes on the Post-its, and the Post-its over the shiny objects. Problem solved.
My current problem to solve is finding a way to actually utilize my college degree. It’s collecting some dust, and getting a bit annoyed with me. Occasionally (usually while I’m deliriously tired) it will call me up and try to have a chat about our future.
It usually affects some strange mix between a British and Boston accent (which I’ve always thought would sound more Irish), and berates me for not going down to D.C. and “camping out in front of government buildings until someone gives me a job”. But then I point out that “Perhaps there is a better way? Like… putting in resumes?” To which my BA degree replies, “Hm… yes, I suppose so. SO why don’t you get on that?” It tricks me into that quite often.
I proclaim myself unemployed, though only because I am not currently employed in a job that I view as desirable. Unemployment can be approached as an insurmountable obstacle or an opportunity. I have watched others who are unemployed, or employed outside their areas of interest, grow morose and hopeless. In some ways, unemployment is like standardized tests.
If approached as something to fear, it is difficult to fare well. But when approached as a challenge, it becomes something to analyse and defeat. And maybe even have some fun with. That’s not to say a retail job is the best time of anyone’s life, but taking life as it comes works out better than trying to fight it every step of the way.
Oh, and actually settling down and sending in copious amounts of resumes helps as well.
So, perhaps another fitting Channing quote (to place on the Post-it note covering the “Facebook” tab on my browser): "Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict. "
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