"Life's ups and downs provide windows of opportunity to determine your values and goals - think of using all obstacles as stepping stones to build the life you want."
-Marsha Sinetar
"When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully open the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."
-Alexander Graham Bell
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thanksgiving
It was a beautiful Thanksgiving dinner. A colorful salad, wondrous sweet potatoes, fluffy mashed potatoes, succulent stuffing, and the most moist, amazing turkey ever (this year was our first year having an organic, free-range turkey, and in Thanksgiving tradition we referred to him during the preparation process as "Tom the Turkey." Owing to his uniqueness in historical context, he quickly became "Tom the Organic Turkey," and shortly thereafter - my stepfather being unable to resist the temptation of a wonderful near-homonym - was christened "Tom the Orgasmic Turkey.").
And so, with Tom the Orgasmic Turkey fresh out of the oven and sliced into little bits, we all sat down at the gorgeously decorated table - complete with crystal wine glasses, our best china, and even tea lights in front of everyone's plates - to begin the gorging process.
About five minutes into dinner my aunt accidentally spills her glass of red wine across the table and into her brother's lap. Panic ensues and everyone (except me, that is - I have lived with a large family long enough to know when there are too many cooks in the kitchen) springs into action. My mother throws down her napkin and runs upstairs to get a towel, which drops from the landing a few seconds later onto the foyer floor below. My aunt jumps up and attacks the tablecloth with her own napkin. My uncle stands and begins wiping the wine from his (thankfully) black pants. My stepfather lunges at the floor with a bottle of Resolve and the towel previously mentioned. And so, having no duty to fill and with a mouth full of mashed potatoes and gravy, I calmly reach for the salt and pepper shakers resting in front of my mother's plate.
Which is when I notice that her napkin is on fire.
"OMIGOD FIRE!!"
In a moment of weakness for which I shall never forgive myself, I forget every ounce of fire safety training in all those endless elementary school assemblies with Spot the Fire Dog. I instinctively grab the edge of the napkin and fling it skyward and away from the candle flame, transforming it into a flying silk fireball in my left hand. More panic ensues.
Suffice it to say that the house did not burn down and we survived the experience of feasting on Tom the Orgasmic Turkey. Ah, Thanksgiving.
And so, with Tom the Orgasmic Turkey fresh out of the oven and sliced into little bits, we all sat down at the gorgeously decorated table - complete with crystal wine glasses, our best china, and even tea lights in front of everyone's plates - to begin the gorging process.
About five minutes into dinner my aunt accidentally spills her glass of red wine across the table and into her brother's lap. Panic ensues and everyone (except me, that is - I have lived with a large family long enough to know when there are too many cooks in the kitchen) springs into action. My mother throws down her napkin and runs upstairs to get a towel, which drops from the landing a few seconds later onto the foyer floor below. My aunt jumps up and attacks the tablecloth with her own napkin. My uncle stands and begins wiping the wine from his (thankfully) black pants. My stepfather lunges at the floor with a bottle of Resolve and the towel previously mentioned. And so, having no duty to fill and with a mouth full of mashed potatoes and gravy, I calmly reach for the salt and pepper shakers resting in front of my mother's plate.
Which is when I notice that her napkin is on fire.
"OMIGOD FIRE!!"
In a moment of weakness for which I shall never forgive myself, I forget every ounce of fire safety training in all those endless elementary school assemblies with Spot the Fire Dog. I instinctively grab the edge of the napkin and fling it skyward and away from the candle flame, transforming it into a flying silk fireball in my left hand. More panic ensues.
Suffice it to say that the house did not burn down and we survived the experience of feasting on Tom the Orgasmic Turkey. Ah, Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
SouthSuck Airlines
So I walk into the airport this afternoon earlier than originally planned for my 7:30 flight to Seattle, all excited to get situated, put my iPod earbuds in, and just chill for 2.5 hours on the plane home. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and taking it out I find a text message from a friend:
Looks like your flight could be delayed. Check southwest.com.
I groan and head over to the Departures monitor. There's my flight, but it looks like we're scheduled to arrive EARLIER than originally planned, by almost a full hour! Woo hoo! I skip over to the checkin and get my bag checked. Then up the escalator, quick phone call home to let the family know I'll be early, and then through security.
Finally I plop down at Starbucks in the terminal, plug in my laptop, and start surfing our free airport WiFi here at SkyHarbor. Checking email, blogs, news, the whole bit. Eventually I decide, just for kicks and giggles, to check my flight status again. Which is when I discovered the oh-so-not-funny truth of things.
I had read the monitor wrong. The time posted wasn't our arrival time. It was our DEPARTURE time. My flight is delayed. At this point it's barely 4:30. Which means I'm going to be stuck in the airport for another four and a half hours.
Surly sip of coffee. Surly phone call home to inform them I'll be in closer to midnight. Surly surfing of web. Surly working on homework stuff.
All I can say is that when I get on that plane and settle into a seat, the captain had better get on the intercom and inform us that he's going to step on it and fly like a bat outta hell into Seattle, getting us in earlier than we're currently scheduled - or so help me, I just might write another surly blog post about it.
That'll show 'em.
Looks like your flight could be delayed. Check southwest.com.
I groan and head over to the Departures monitor. There's my flight, but it looks like we're scheduled to arrive EARLIER than originally planned, by almost a full hour! Woo hoo! I skip over to the checkin and get my bag checked. Then up the escalator, quick phone call home to let the family know I'll be early, and then through security.
Finally I plop down at Starbucks in the terminal, plug in my laptop, and start surfing our free airport WiFi here at SkyHarbor. Checking email, blogs, news, the whole bit. Eventually I decide, just for kicks and giggles, to check my flight status again. Which is when I discovered the oh-so-not-funny truth of things.
I had read the monitor wrong. The time posted wasn't our arrival time. It was our DEPARTURE time. My flight is delayed. At this point it's barely 4:30. Which means I'm going to be stuck in the airport for another four and a half hours.
Surly sip of coffee. Surly phone call home to inform them I'll be in closer to midnight. Surly surfing of web. Surly working on homework stuff.
All I can say is that when I get on that plane and settle into a seat, the captain had better get on the intercom and inform us that he's going to step on it and fly like a bat outta hell into Seattle, getting us in earlier than we're currently scheduled - or so help me, I just might write another surly blog post about it.
That'll show 'em.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
TV will rot your brain, young man. Now turn that off.
Those of you who know me know that I don't watch a whole lot of TV. As a child growing up, television was one of those semi-illicit substances in our household that, for apparent grave health and safety reasons foreign to my six-year-old mind, had to be carefully rationed - much like second helpings of dinner, sugar, and grave-flavored Dimetap. The content of my siblings' and my programming was also, of course, carefully regulated - it was not until sometime in the ninth grade that I, increasingly exposed to the world outside the carefully constructed home nest, became curiously aware that watching an R-rated film would not, in fact, result in my immediate teleportation to Hell.
And so, having had so little exposure to the stuff growing up, it's not surprising that I was largely spared the addiction to all things televised that seemed to afflict so much of the general population.
But then I finished my thesis.
I'm certain that the conniving 60" widescreen HDTV owned by my roommate, proudly occupying a prominent spot in our living room, waited for this precise moment to close in for the kill (prompted, no doubt, by generations of past televisions that had failed to plant an addiction in my fragile little mind). I'm not even sure how the thing turned on in the first place, since the apartment was empty and no one was home (perhaps the television is self-aware?). In any case, (and curiously, considering my lack of TV addiction), I've always been one easily amused by flashing colors and bright, shiny things, and so, in a moment of curiosity as I passed through the living room Sunday afternoon, I sat down on the couch - just for a moment.
Four hours later I was still there - in fact, I was no longer alone, having brought my laptop in and carefully balanced it upon the left couch arm (lest I miss an instant message or email). I sagged in my seat, hindquarters not even technically resting on the couch anymore, the remote resting limply in my right hand.
Those of you who know me well know that I almost never watch television. And when I do, it's rarely for more than an hour. Yet for some reason, since Friday afternoon I have been perfectly content to remain stationary on the couch in front of the boob tube for over six hours at a time, getting up only to use the loo or to fetch sustenance.
This frightens me.
However, I can see why so many people do watch so much TV. There really is an incredible world of insanity out there, all brought conveniently to my living room via satellite and at the literal touch of a button. Among my virtual exploits in the past five days:
1. A seventeen-year-old Southern California girl dent her mother's Audi less than 24 hours after receiving her driver's license, then taken out the next day by her father to pick out her $32,000 BMW 325i (a "good first car"), squealing, "Daddy's going to let me put rims on it and tint the windows! Isn't it cute??!?
2. A man learning how to properly groom a dog, including - and I am not joking - literally squeezing poop out of its butt during the bathing process.
3. Several insanely wealthy Beverly Hills residents getting equally insane (and graphic) plastic surgery operations. Also, the rather touching reconstruction of one 18-year-old Mexican boy's horrific cleft palate and subsequent speech classes.
4. An hour-long special on the History channel musing whether Adolf Hitler might, just might, have escaped Berlin in 1945 and been living in Argentina to this day - then concluded in the last 5 minutes with the comparatively far less exciting reality that, nope, he really did just shoot himself. Also, the confirmation that the Soviet Union really did have Hitler's body all this time, and buried and exhumed it no less than eight times in the decades after the war. Sometime in the 1970s the body was dug up by a KGB agent, cremated (again, ironically), and then dumped into an East German river, where the ashes made their way to the ocean. Russia still has Hitler's teeth and fragments of his skull.
Yes, the past few days have certainly reminded me why I don't watch a lot of television. I suppose that I really should turn the thing off and get back to work - I know I must have some assignment due this week.
I'll do it right after this show.
And so, having had so little exposure to the stuff growing up, it's not surprising that I was largely spared the addiction to all things televised that seemed to afflict so much of the general population.
But then I finished my thesis.
I'm certain that the conniving 60" widescreen HDTV owned by my roommate, proudly occupying a prominent spot in our living room, waited for this precise moment to close in for the kill (prompted, no doubt, by generations of past televisions that had failed to plant an addiction in my fragile little mind). I'm not even sure how the thing turned on in the first place, since the apartment was empty and no one was home (perhaps the television is self-aware?). In any case, (and curiously, considering my lack of TV addiction), I've always been one easily amused by flashing colors and bright, shiny things, and so, in a moment of curiosity as I passed through the living room Sunday afternoon, I sat down on the couch - just for a moment.
Four hours later I was still there - in fact, I was no longer alone, having brought my laptop in and carefully balanced it upon the left couch arm (lest I miss an instant message or email). I sagged in my seat, hindquarters not even technically resting on the couch anymore, the remote resting limply in my right hand.
Those of you who know me well know that I almost never watch television. And when I do, it's rarely for more than an hour. Yet for some reason, since Friday afternoon I have been perfectly content to remain stationary on the couch in front of the boob tube for over six hours at a time, getting up only to use the loo or to fetch sustenance.
This frightens me.
However, I can see why so many people do watch so much TV. There really is an incredible world of insanity out there, all brought conveniently to my living room via satellite and at the literal touch of a button. Among my virtual exploits in the past five days:
1. A seventeen-year-old Southern California girl dent her mother's Audi less than 24 hours after receiving her driver's license, then taken out the next day by her father to pick out her $32,000 BMW 325i (a "good first car"), squealing, "Daddy's going to let me put rims on it and tint the windows! Isn't it cute??!?
2. A man learning how to properly groom a dog, including - and I am not joking - literally squeezing poop out of its butt during the bathing process.
3. Several insanely wealthy Beverly Hills residents getting equally insane (and graphic) plastic surgery operations. Also, the rather touching reconstruction of one 18-year-old Mexican boy's horrific cleft palate and subsequent speech classes.
4. An hour-long special on the History channel musing whether Adolf Hitler might, just might, have escaped Berlin in 1945 and been living in Argentina to this day - then concluded in the last 5 minutes with the comparatively far less exciting reality that, nope, he really did just shoot himself. Also, the confirmation that the Soviet Union really did have Hitler's body all this time, and buried and exhumed it no less than eight times in the decades after the war. Sometime in the 1970s the body was dug up by a KGB agent, cremated (again, ironically), and then dumped into an East German river, where the ashes made their way to the ocean. Russia still has Hitler's teeth and fragments of his skull.
Yes, the past few days have certainly reminded me why I don't watch a lot of television. I suppose that I really should turn the thing off and get back to work - I know I must have some assignment due this week.
I'll do it right after this show.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Dan in Real Life
Saw this movie last night with a couple of friends, and I can only recommend it. I am definitely going to be buying this when it comes out on DVD.Why? Dan in Real Life is one of those great comedies that is hilarious while at the same time being completely serious and tackling some great character issues. It's the story of - you guessed it - Dan, who is a widower struggling to raise three daughters and caught in the middle of a big family that seems to have nothing but unwelcome suggestions for him. The whole extended family goes on a vacation to the family cabin in Rhode Island, where Dan runs into Marie at a bookstore, a beautiful woman who it's clear from the get-go is the one - and who, to Dan's utter horror when he later returns to the cabin, is actually dating his brother. Add three teenage daughters and a huge, overly-intrusive family. Hilarity ensues.
It sounds like the recipe for a romantic comedy, doesn't it? And some people might characterize it that way - but I think the film shows us Dan's pain as a father and widower too clearly to fit into the stereotypical romantic comedy genre. Steve Carrell proves that he can be as serious as he is hilarious, and he does a fantastic job of communicating Dan's very real and all-consuming struggle to be a father to his daughters as well as fill the void left by his wife's death through the film's awkward situations. The film's romantic and it's a comedy, but I think it draws a distinction between the two really well and stays away from the kitschy, eye-rolling stuff.
It's definitely worth the 7 bucks at the movie theatre, so if you're looking for something to do this weekend, go check it out.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
The Inevitable Crash
And so, having finished my thesis, I collapsed into bed early last night and slept for 11 hours. I have not slept 11 hours in a long, long, time. I finally got up late around 10, got dressed, and sauntered over to my favorite cafe, where I proceeded to drink a cup of coffee and nearly fall asleep again on one of their enormous, comfy couches.
Which is where I ran across this photo on Flickr. I love this photo. It makes me miss Seattle. For those of you who have not experienced a Seattle Christmas, I'm sorry to inform you, but your life has actually not been happening all these years. You've been in a sad, sad state of non-living and only after you experience the month of December in downtown Seattle can you start to live.
Winter in Seattle is amazing. We don't get a lot of snow, but we get lots of rain to make up for it, and strangely the rain sort of adds the same mood to a Christmas evening for a Seattlelite that snow would for most other people. We're kind of odd that way.
With Thanksgiving barely a few weeks away, soon it will be time to start playing Christmas music! Can't wait.
Which is where I ran across this photo on Flickr. I love this photo. It makes me miss Seattle. For those of you who have not experienced a Seattle Christmas, I'm sorry to inform you, but your life has actually not been happening all these years. You've been in a sad, sad state of non-living and only after you experience the month of December in downtown Seattle can you start to live.
Winter in Seattle is amazing. We don't get a lot of snow, but we get lots of rain to make up for it, and strangely the rain sort of adds the same mood to a Christmas evening for a Seattlelite that snow would for most other people. We're kind of odd that way.
With Thanksgiving barely a few weeks away, soon it will be time to start playing Christmas music! Can't wait.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Ask not for whom the bell tolls...
Well everyone, tomorrow is the big day: the thesis defense. All the months of blood, sweat, and tears (not so much the tears) are about to come to fruition. Tomorrow I will present the thesis to the committee for final review, and discuss their questions and comments. Once that's over it will be time for final revisions based on their input and then (drum roll) the final manuscript will be submitted and forever immortalized in the Barrett archives.
Well, actually I should be more specific - once the defense is over it will be time to head over to Mill Avenue with friends and have several 'adult beverages' in euphoric celebration. Then it will be time for final revisions.
My second reader has brought up some questions and comments that I find a bit difficult to tackle - I've been chewing on them for a couple of days and will definitely need to address some of them in order to make the thesis stronger. He has actually also suggested that I look into getting the case studies I did published, because there isn't much literature on those two subjects out there at the moment.
Tonight I am putting some finishing touches on the presentation and mentally preparing myself. I'm trying to tell myself that it's not going to be a huge deal, that if my committee wasn't going to approve the thesis they would have given me an indication already. I'm still pretty nervous though. I just hope it's over fast!
Well, actually I should be more specific - once the defense is over it will be time to head over to Mill Avenue with friends and have several 'adult beverages' in euphoric celebration. Then it will be time for final revisions.
My second reader has brought up some questions and comments that I find a bit difficult to tackle - I've been chewing on them for a couple of days and will definitely need to address some of them in order to make the thesis stronger. He has actually also suggested that I look into getting the case studies I did published, because there isn't much literature on those two subjects out there at the moment.
Tonight I am putting some finishing touches on the presentation and mentally preparing myself. I'm trying to tell myself that it's not going to be a huge deal, that if my committee wasn't going to approve the thesis they would have given me an indication already. I'm still pretty nervous though. I just hope it's over fast!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
