When you were in elementary school, did anyone ever tell you to look down your shirt and spell “attic”?
I hated that.
July 31, 2010
July 30, 2010
Maybe she was trying to keep cool
Before I even entered the bus, I could see that a woman was wearing some really shiny foil on over her hair. She was sitting on the front bench seat, which is where blind passengers often sit (this information is important for the story). When I entered the bus, I noticed that this foil was not only covering her hair, it was long and hanging like a cape off the back of her head. She was sitting so that it draped over the seat next to her.
It looked like it was the same sort of foil that Sterile Foil Baby Buntings are made out of.
Side story: Bryan works at a hospital. A little over a year ago he saw an ad for the above product. It was just a picture of the baby wrapped in foil and it said in large letters, “STERILE FOIL BABY.” He made about 30 copies of the page and brought it home. I gave copies to some of my friends and hung one in my then-office. I hope it’s still there because, for me, when teaching got tough, all I had to do was look to the Sterile Foil Baby to remind me that there are things to laugh about. Like Sterile Foil Baby ads.
Back to the current story:
She was holding a mirror in front of her face and applying mascara in a way that tugged up her eyelids and made the white of her eyeballs freakishly visible. She was just applying and reapplying this stuff, and I was suddenly totally grossed out by the idea of eyeballs and the fact that everyone has such disgusting things in the front of their faces.
A few stops later, a blind man entered the bus. She didn’t move. She just kept applying her mascara with her little mascara-caked wand. The people around her moved the shiny foil head cape from the seat beside her and guided the blind man to sit down. So he was sitting there, rubbing all against her foil—which, by the way, wasn’t quiet. She put away her make up and adjusted her foil.
She got off a few stops later. I watched her walk down the sidewalk. Her shiny foil head cape fluttered behind her.
Once the bus got going again, the blind man turned toward the guy sitting next to him and asked, “What was all that foil stuff?”
Half the bus broke out into a gradual laugh, and a few people tried to explain what had been going on. I’m not sure what exactly people said to him, but I did hear “space blanket.”
July 16, 2010
Maybe she drives a flute-powered car
I already wrote about this on Twitter and Facebook, but I’ve got to get all the outlets covered on this one:
Yesterday when I was riding the bus, I saw a lady playing her flute in her car while waiting at a red light.
Let the image soak in for a moment. Here it is again: There’s a lady driving to work in the morning. She’s stuck at a red light so she’s decided to whip out her flute and play a little tune.
I’ve spent a lot of time replaying this moment in my head–for a couple reasons. The most obvious reason is that I take a ton of pleasure in moments like these that just seem so bizarre and ridiculous. The other reason is that I really want to understand why she was doing that. Maybe she takes lessons and really has no other time to practice. Maybe she was on her way to a morning recital. I don’t know.
All I know is that this may have been the highlight of my week, and I’m unsure what to make of that.
July 11, 2010
This is much like the skinny jeans incident, but with more Lady Gaga and run on sentences
(Here’s the skinny jeans incident.)
I put Lady Gaga on my mp3 player.
See, I pretty much only use my mp3 player for when I go jogging, and I have quite a mix of embarrassing music on that thing. I didn’t think this would be much different.
The problem is that I can’t listen to a Lady Gaga song and let that be it. I see her face and her ridiculous outfits and I begin wondering what it’s like to be her, and why the heck someone would go through so much trouble to create such an image and that maybe I’d like her more if her preoccupation with image didn’t undermine talent that she has. And then I think that she’s completely achieved what she set out to do because people like me are attempting to listen to her and then thinking about why and either way she is getting attention. And then I think about the stories that I’ve come across about her–like all the pictures of her falling because she was wearing such a ridiculous pair of boots, and about how she took a flight in a ridiculously tight outfit that could actually cause damage because it could cut off circulation if she sits in it for a long amount of time, and about how she doesn’t ever want to be seen in public without high heels and how she refused to wear bowling shoes at a bowling alley and caused all sorts of damage on the floor and just gave the employees tickets to her show after that and how, if I were the manager of the bowling alley, I would’ve made her wear the goddamn bowling shoes.
And then I wonder if I’ve really read that many stories about her and what the heck compelled me to do so and why my brain is retaining this information about Lady Gaga when I don’t even really consider her to be someone that I even feel very strongly about. I don’t love her. I don’t hate her. I shrug about her.
And then I wish that my brain would spend time pondering more important things, like why Prince’s antics (ass-less chaps, the whole name change, this picture) don’t prevent me from listening to his music and just enjoying it for what it is. Or for what it was, since I have no idea what kind of music he is making now.
And then I think about how maybe grad school would’ve been more successful and enjoyable had my brain had the drive to consider poems the way it considers Lady Gaga.
Anyway, I took Lady Gaga off my mp3 player. I don’t want to think about all that stuff when I’m out for a run.
July 4, 2010
It’s a holiday!
Prince and I hope that you are having a good July 4th. It’s cold and drizzly here in Seattle, just like it has been for the whole freaking spring and summer.
July 2, 2010
An update on my life:
My new job is at a food bank. On the days that we’re open to the public, we open at 10am. On some days, I’ve arrived to work at 7:20am and there are people already lined along the sidewalk.
They are lined along the sidewalk for a chance to be some of the first in line to receive enough food for about three meals—and it’s nothing fancy. Some frozen chicken, beef, or tofu a day or two past the sell-by date, some slightly dented cans of tomatoes. Some toothpaste or tampons.
(Note about the tampons: On the day that we were distributing tampons, I’m pretty sure that I said the word at least 150 times in about an hour. Customers usually expect to see food, so there was a lot of opportunity to tell them what they were. Also, I was working with a 9 year old volunteer that kept forgetting what they were called. When I explained that the product was “for ladies” to a couple elderly Chinese women, one of them said to me, “No longer menstruating.”)
People have asked me how we know that the people really need the service that we provide. And, well, we don’t. Not everyone that comes through the line is starving; they still turn down some of the product. But the fact still remains that they must stand and wait in line and shop in that slow line for a limited choice of product, and I don’t know a lot of people who would be willing to cut out a hour of their day in order to do that when the grocery store is just a few blocks away. Maybe some people could afford to buy some regular groceries, but if they feel like waiting in line at the food bank is helping their life in some way—then fine. I’m glad we can give them that.
–
The main function of my job is to manage the volunteers. We have a very small staff and require a large amount of volunteers for daily operations. This = a really cool job.
(By the way! I found out that I beat out 5 other people trying to get this job. How did I find out? I found all the regret letters on my computer. And the whole time I figured I got this job because one other person just didn’t show up to his or her interview or did something totally obscene like challenge the interview panel to a wet t-shirt contest.)
Even though I really care about my job right now, it’s still a little awkward. It takes me awhile to warm up to people that I see regularly (on the other hand, I’m pretty good at talking to people/customer service on a one-time basis). Plus there’s the whole starting a job in the middle of 4+ projects.
And what the heck is with professional jobs and all the MEETINGS? HOLY HELL, THE MEETINGS!
Despite the meetings, I enjoy the challenge of learning a new job, and the challenges of working with the limited resources and funds that the nonprofit has. Then there’s also the perk of interacting with such an interesting mix of volunteers (they range in age from 7 to 94). This is what I’ve been wanting to do.
This is what has been going on in my life.
–
On an unrelated note:
A few weeks ago, I was riding the bus to work. There was a man sitting in front of me holding a box of doughnuts. He turns to the man beside him—they didn’t get on the bus together and didn’t seem to know each other—and says, “Tell me. What’s your mother’s favorite doughnut?”
The second man responds without hesitation, and the first man nods with recognition and approval. And that’s it.
