Archive for January, 2007
Blogable: Crying in Public
Let me paint you a picture. I’m sitting on a brown leather sofa, kind of haphazardly. In front of me is an extremely large plasma television. In each of five directions, I can see very small cube speakers. They are producing no sound, but the television is producing a picture. A moving picture, in fact, showing some adorable Huskies.
When I saw the preview for Eight Below, I was in the movie theatre. I’m sure most people work the same way during the previews. A preview finishes, you look to the person you’re there with, and either make the excited “we’re going to go see that” nod or the less-than-impressed “not in a million years” finger-in-the-throat. Most of the time, Mike and I look at each other and make the same gesture. Sometimes, if I’m really excited, I fidget in my seat like a five-year-old. In this case, I was really excited. I love puppies! Mike… he made the gag gesture.
I was sad, but soon forgot about it. That is, until I was sitting in Best Buy waiting for Mike to pay for the TV.
Oh, right. We (and by “we” I really mean “Mike”) bought a new television. It’s too big. But it was on sale with several combined discounts and 3 years of no-interest financing. Why did I let him do this? I don’t know. I’m still not sure how he wore me down. But now we have a new TV, and watching 24 on it was pretty nice.
So there I am, sitting in a store, amongst people I do not know, watching the end of a movie I’ve never seen, hearing the audio from the next movie over (which I immediately recognized as Superman Returns, in case you were wondering). There were puppies. They were cute. Their owner-daddy found them. One of them was missing. Sadness. One of them wouldn’t get in the truck and ran off. Owner-daddy chased him. They found another puppy lying on the ground. Owner-daddy cried because, like me, he thought the puppy was dead. But then… you could see he was breathing… and his eyes opened… and owner-daddy picked him up and carried him home. And then…
and then…
and then…
I was bawling.
Blogable: No Snow on Christmas!
This year’s Christmas was an even year, so we spent it with Mike’s family in northern Canada.
Okay… not Canada… just northern Vermont, but really close to Canada, okay?
I’m not kidding, guys. They can drive to Canada in less time than it takes me to get to work at rush hour.
Anyway, it snows there all the time. Most winters it snows at least a little bit every day. Not this year, apparently. Christmas came and went, with no snow. For apparently the first time in 30 years.
Kate scolded her mom, as if it was her fault that her Houston-based daughter couldn’t see snow on her visit back to the North Pole. Christmas spirit was hard to come by. House decorations for Christmas weren’t up to code. Church on Christmas Eve was practically empty because so many people left town for the holiday this year. But we did still sing carols and make cookies (gingerbread!) and open presents and make Kate be Santa.
And it snowed on the 26th, so it wasn’t so bad…
I cannot imagine living somewhere where there is never going to be a chance of snow on Christmas. Those poor kids down south, or, God forbid, in the southern hemisphere. They don’t even know what a White Christmas really looks like! So sad…
Like Lunchables Only Less Tasty
Today, my intent is to post a bunch of entries I will call “Blogables.” Similar to the popular children’s lunch box, they will contain a smaller than normal facsimile of a blog post. We’ll see how this goes, but I know I have at least three up there in my head.
My Poor Neglected Piano
We were down at my parents’ house this past weekend to celebrate Christmas with my family. It was quite nice and almost Christmasy. At one point, I was bored and wandered into the living room and played the piano for a while. My dad has these easy-to-medium level Classical pieces that I can usually sight read and enjoy playing.
When I play the piano, especially Classical (where I’m using that term to loosely refer to music older than a hundred years or so), I tend to float off into my own little world. Nothing is sad there. Even when I flub notes or stall while I analyse the best way to continue, my thoughts don’t wander away. It’s calming.
This is why, when I’m upset, I generally gravitate to the piano. It slows down the crazy thoughts. It cuts off the outside world. It makes me feel peaceful.
I played a few pieces that I know by sound but not by name. One I hadn’t played before, so I went ahead and played it twice in a row. I have this odd problem, though. I’m pretty good at sight reading music for the piano. But the second time through a piece, I generally fuck it up royally. I don’t know what happens. I probably stop paying attention to the notes too early in the learning process. But because of this, I generally don’t bother to learn any music. I just sight read for my own enjoyment.
There are some pieces, however, that I will enjoy a thousand times. My dad’s book of Classical music did in fact have it. Satie isn’t one of the best known piano composers. He’s difficult to find on the internet (especially when you can’t remember his name, except that it’s five letters and starts with an ‘S’, and as a bonus you can’t remember the name of your favorite piano piece until you see it). But here he is and here’s that piece. Well played, it could put you in a trance. When I play it myself, even though I know I don’t do a perfect job, it has the same effect on me.
So after playing that, I wandered away from the piano and found Mike sitting on the far-too-tiny couch in the family room. I sat with him, and he immediately asked, “Who are you mad at?”
How sad is that? My poor innocent piano. I’ve been playing since before I could read. Before I could properly speak. I very often tell people that my first language is music. But what does my piano at home do? It sits there for weeks at a time. It waits patiently for me to be cranky or pissed off so that I require some piano time. Why do I abandon my poor innocent piano?
The damn thing did cost me nearly two grand when I bought it. I was still in college. It was pretty much all of the money I had. At the time, I had the tendency to work a job for a purpose. I worked at Hallmark so I could buy a guitar. I worked at Friendly’s so I could pay to fix my car after an accident involving black ice. I worked in the Web Office so I could buy a piano keyboard. It wasn’t until my internship with that company I used to work for that I started working for working’s sake – for my brain and for my career.
I bought that piano at the Guitar Center that had only recently sprouted up in my home town. They had a room set aside for electronic pianos ranging in quality from the 40-ish key spring boards to full blown 88 weighted keys. I tried every single one of them. I couldn’t bring myself to purchase a spring-loaded keyboard. It just didn’t feel right. Or, for that matter, sound right. So I went for the weighted keys. But I thought I’d get something a little bit portable, so I got one that had a collapsible stand and carrying case. Never mind that the thing weighs over 80 pounds. Portable my ass.
I bought every attachment. Bench, stand, music stand, headphones, and cables galore. The sales guy was so excited he threw in the case for free. Man, that was a lot of money. It may still be one of the most expensive things I’ve ever bought. Actually, I think the only things more expensive would be cars.
And I did play it. I played it almost every day when I lived in Worcester. But then, I was almost always mad at someone then. When you interact with that many people, you’re bound to run into someone who makes you batty almost every day. Plus I was kind of my own spaz. And I was constantly arranging songs for I8 – though I usually did those using a letter keyboard and Note Worthy Composer. I was a speed demon at NWC.
But here I am today, with a piano that sits neglected in the spare room. But it’s always there for me when I need it. And sometimes, I really do need it.
Want
Man… I don’t even come close to needing this. But I want it! I want it! I WANT it!
What is it? It would be the iPhone that is coming out in June. I have no need for it. I don’t use the internet on my phone now, even though it is capable of it. I don’t check my email on the go. I don’t expect my phone to do anything really except ring when my sister calls it. But this gadget-phone-smart-phone-toy is just calling out my name.
I want it.
Blather
Remember before when I said last week was the week from hell? Well, for some reason, it seems to have spilled into this week. Feh! I’m sitting here right now waiting for our one build guy to get out of a meeting that was supposed to be over 25 minutes ago. FEH!
In other news, the sunset today was strikingly beautiful. Clouds have been hanging over the city all day, and as the sun was setting a luscious orange spilled in from the gap between the clouds and the land out to the west. The clouds’ dark purple hue complemented that so nicely. I wish I could paint so I could relive it forever. Or at least I wish I had taken a picture. Or for that matter, realized that I have a camera phone!
Speaking of camera phones, Mike’s now holds some precious ones of my hair after my sister braided it in an interesting but odd fashion. We went bowling, my family, Mike and I, the other day (duck pin!). Sa has little-to-no patience for humans, so she needed to keep busy between strings. My hair was apparently entertaining enough.
The alley was kind of sad, actually. There were only two other lanes being used. But the ladies running the place seemed quite nice and we did enjoy ourselves. Especially me in the first string because I won! Hahaha… ha… ha.
Unfortunately, I was the only one who’s score went down in the second string… woops!
In other news, Christmas is officially over. Tonight we’re tearing down the decorations and cleaning up after the tree’s dry, dead needles. It’ll be fun. That is, if I ever get to go home!
FEH!
I want to go snowboarding. I’m pretty sure we’re going to do that the weekend after next. That’ll be fun.
I haven’t told you guys anything about my Christmas week, have I? Huh. Well, I might get to that eventually, I suppose. When I have some story-telling time. Yes, you would think now would be good, seeing as I’m completely blocked and can’t do anything, but really all that’s accomplishing is pissing me off.
Architect-dude just came over to check on me before he flies out to the client to show off this megaton of work I’ve been doing. His flight got delayed. Good for me because I got to tell him directly that I’m done. But he’s gone now.
I hope I never have to fly for business. I don’t like being away from Mike for more than a day. I’m needy like that. But if I do, we have a client and an office in Houston, which wouldn’t be so bad because I could visit with Kate. Seattle has no such draws. Plus it’s far-the-fuck-away.
Man, I wish the build guy’s meeting would end already!
*sigh*
I’m going to wander the office trying to cause trouble now. I am no good for sitting still.
Work Week from Hell
Hey guys. I wanted to appologize for my radio silence last week. It was a horendously busy week at work. I didn’t work less than 10 hours any of the days. But that’s more or less over, so I think I’ll be back to normal now. Just wanted to be, you know, updating or something.
Expect more later.
Worst New Years Ever
Now, let’s be clear here. I did have a pretty awesome week. But I just can’t get this off of my mind, so it’s going to have to be the first thing I post about.
I dare you to tell me you’ve had a worse New Years Eve. I’m sure it’s possible. I mean, really, things can definitely be worse. And I know there are things that absolutely are worse than this day was for me, but to happen on New Years Eve was just cruel.
It all started during half-time of the Patriots game…
My dad had called earlier, while I was trying to sit down to watch the game and eat some spaghetti-o’s, but I told him I really wanted to eat and I’d call him back later. Good thing, because I had some good lunch and watched some good football. So I called him back while I was mixing up some gingerbread batter during, as I said, half-time.
A little bit of chit-chat, and then something I definitely didn’t want to hear. “Remember Dovey?” My brain set off alarm bells. What do you mean, “remember” him. Of course I remember him. He’s my dog. Are you talking past tense about my dog? Why are you talking past tense about my dog?
But I knew. Dove, my family’s miniature poodle (don’t laugh, I swear), has been sick. He had a cataract in one eye, and he was going deaf in both ears. He had warts and then Alzheimer’s. His stomach was constantly upset, and finally he was having difficulty walking. The pain was too much. They had to let him go.
My puppy.
Our puppy.
I loved that dog. He was the best dog ever. He was so smart. He knew exactly who to go to for treats (Dad) and pets (Sa) and walks (Dad) and food (Mom) and more pets (me) and more pets (Dad) and more pets (Sa) and more pets… My dad swore he would never like a dog, but you could tell, especially after my sister and I moved out, that they were best friends. Of course, Dove never listened to Dad. But why listen to someone who tells you to sit, and pets you even if you don’t?
That lack of obedience training was something I overcame with hand signals. Even the last time I saw him, half blind and nearly deaf, he still remembered that my right hand over my left fist meant sit. And that it would result it “Good Boy”s and maybe even a Snausage.
But I didn’t cry while I talked with Dad. I didn’t cry while I chatted with Mom about other things. I did hang up the phone, sit down next to Mike, and sob for a good fifteen minutes. I don’t remember much else from the football game except that we won.
Soon after I finished making those previously mentioned gingerbread cookies, Mike mentioned that he was hungry. We were going to a party later that night, but it was probably a good idea to have a little food to tide us over until the food that was to come. So I made up some nacho dip using left-overs that, as an afterthought, were probably a little too over-left.
We ate. We got ready to leave. I couldn’t find my coat. My company gave me a nice leather jacket for Christmas. I really like it. It’s snazzy. Of course, now it’s in northern Vermont. But, you know, things happen. So, I had to wear my snowboarding jacket, which wasn’t so bad, after all, because I do quite like it too. But it was a bit of a disappointment, realizing that my new leather jacket was nowhere to be found.
So on we went, and during the journey, I realized that I wasn’t feeling awesome, but I thought I’d get over it. We stopped for gas on the pike, which was spendy, but easier than dealing with the Woo. We got lost. Poor Tom-Tom doesn’t know what to do with the new 146, which is now a limited access highway, but was before just another road. Woopsiedaisy. But we got there eventually.
It wasn’t a half hour before I realized I was doomed. Bathroom trip the first. I tried to remain sociable, but I was steadily falling downhill. Bathroom trip the second, and this time with my head where my ass would normally be. Our lovely host told Mike where we might find some Pepto. Luckily, we spotted a Honey Farms before heading right down the main road to the Price Chopper (which we later noticed was to the left when we departed). Pepto and a bag of pep-o-mint Life Savers later, and I cowered in the spare bedroom.
For a brief time, some of my awesome friends came by to visit. It was mostly pleasant, even if I was having a tough time. Then someone flopped down on the bed I was sitting on. Not good. Bathroom trip the third. The room cleared out so when I returned I just cowered for a while. Mike came by a few times. Bathroom trip the fourth. I made him promise to get me for the moment. Bathroom trip the fifth, in reverse again, and pink. Sorry if you didn’t want to know that.
I was washing my hands and face when I heard, “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”
I sobbed dry tears while I dried my hands and checked to make sure I was still alive. I went back to the spare bedroom and curled up into a ball. Mike came back, and I had to turn away when he tried to kiss me. I felt so disgusting and disgusted and disappointed. It sounded like such a fun party and I missed pretty much the entire thing.
I was amused by several nice but drunk people as we said our goodbyes. I drove home. I was exhausted but didn’t pass out, thankfully. Crash.
At least I haven’t puked yet in 2007. Maybe that’s a good sign.