Waving as you drive away

Today I saw Meagan for the last time for a while. She's going to grad school in Virginia. She has been a kindred spirit for a long time. I love her and will miss her.

In select theaters

I might want to see this.

Eye of the Tiger

So, I went running last night (am I showing off? No. But you're impressed, right?). And I was wearing shoes. Because I'm not Pocahontas (sorry for the spoiler). Anyway, I got these running shoes last year and I'm having the same problem now that I had with them then: they make my heels bleed. Last summer I was running everyday and when I first got these babies they made me bleed for three weeks straight (no exaggeration). Eventually I got purple-maroonish callouses that felt roughly like the hide of a rhinoceros. Unfortunately, my rhinocerity has gone missing.

I tried a number of strategies to fix the dilemma:

-band-aids (they fall off)
-tape (it rolls of and hurts like a monkey)
-tall socks (it works, but puts a cotton-covered arrow through my dignity and fashion sense)

Now I have these reddish raw spots on the back of each of my heels and a blood stain inside the back of my running shoes--which makes me seem very rough and authentic, don't you think?

So the main problem is that a) my heels hurt and I have to wear backless shoes for a while, b) I haven't actually ever touched a rhinoceros, and c) I have another pair of running shoes, so my situation isn't dire and this probably doesn't belong under the "main problem" category, or even the "problem" category.

I think I like this

bag.

At my desk

Today I checked out the Collected Stories of Wallace Stegner from the library. I also have with me a grammar review book of Spanish because my Spanish grammar is terrible. My English grammar isn't too hot either. It's a problem. I read the introduction to the Wallace Stegner book and I shuffled through the grammar book. But I can't seem to dedicate my attention to either of them. It is 2:36pm. Work is slo-o-o-w. Other than the occasional lost student or mail service employee, no one is coming in the office. There's a spreadsheet on the right side of my desk. It is striped with pale green. When I look at it for even a second or two, it starts to blur. I can hear the shrill, pre-adolescent cheers and conversations of the masses involved in summer sports camps. I got a drink from the water fountain a few minutes ago to keep myself awake. It would be fair to say that I've hit the afternoon slump.

I would like to lie in a hammock in the shade and sip cold, not-too-sour lemonade from a straw and take a long, lazy nap. Instead I will try to stay awake for 2.25 more hours. Then I'll walk home and put some rice in the rice cooker. Then I'll clean. People are coming over tonight. Jake is coming for dinner, and Lance and Andrea and possibly (hopefully/probably) Katie and Bryan are coming over to play games afterward.

I like playing games. I also like having a clean house. So, I guess I'm really getting what I want. Except the whole part about having 2.25 hours of dullness before me. I still want the hammock and the lemonade.

"If art is a by-product of living, and I believe it is, then I want my own efforts to stay as close to earth and human experience as possible--and the only earth I know is the one I have lived on, the only human experience I am at all sure of is my own." -W.S.

Ray, take two

As I said before, I've become a fan of Ray LaMontagne. The first song of his I heard was Winter Birds--which I have yet to find a good recording of online. I heard Trouble a while after that and loved it.

This video shows him performing two songs together--the second (I think) with an orchestra.

Enjoy.

(Thanks, Mariko)

Ray

I've been listening to a lot of Ray Lamontagne lately. The man refuses to make music videos--what's not to respect about that? I would insert a link to one of his songs here or something, but I don't know how. Yes, I am embarrassed by this.

Happy Birthday

"'Merely to live, merely to exist--what sense is there to it? A fly also lives.'" -The Chosen, Chaim Potok

"Oh, well, I can't describe him. Maybe you can never explain what it is about one certain person that makes you feel there are a lot of little strings attached between you and him, all pulling." -Greensleeves, Eloise Jarvis McGraw

"I did not press her to explain. I was too grateful for that one word that allowed me at last to leave the island and begin to build myself as a soul, separate from the long, long shadow of my twin." -Jacob Have I Loved, Katherine Paterson

"In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love." -East of Eden, John Steinbeck

I'd add something from Franny and Zooey, by Salinger, but I don't own a copy.

Kris Kringle

I saw Santa Claus today. Kegan and I were walking into Macey's for some bread and THERE HE WAS. Longish white hair, long white beard, pot-belly. He was pushing a shopping cart and wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but I wasn't fooled. Please. Who does he think he is? Clark Kent?

I've seen a couple other Santa candidates in my time. One was a substitute teacher I had a number of times in one of my art classes in high school. I think he was into ceramics. His beard was kind of yellowish and he smelled like wood, old coffee, the occasional cigar and the habit of patchy bathing. Then there was the donut-eater. He came in nearly everyday that I worked in the bakery at Thriftway. He would buy one or two donuts and often ate them before even getting to the cash register. He smelled. BAD. Talk about ripe. Bathing wasn't even patchy for him, I'm pretty sure it just didn't happen. However, he did sport a white beard.

I guess it's kind of unfortunate that none of Santa's other characteristics stand out to me while observing him attempting to be incognito. Like cheery laugh or rosy cheeks or generous personality, etc. But the beard is pretty dominant. If I had a blue afro two feet in diameter, you probably wouldn't think of my other characteristics either, especially if you saw someone else with blue hair. It's to be expected.

I don't remember when I stopped believing in Santa, but I think I got suspicious early on. I remember Kyle (my brother who's four years older than I am) telling me that he didn't believe in Santa, but he believed in elves--because he'd seen them. I also remember Maren (my middle sister) saying that when she had children, once they stopped believing in Santa, they wouldn't get presents from him anymore (my mom didn't really go for that, but I would always assure her that I still believed, I still do). Now on Christmas morning my mom says gleefully, "Oh look! Santa came!" and I, just as gleefully, reply, "Santa! He came!" I'm covering my bases just in case my mom suddenly decides that Maren had the right idea.

I want to start carrying a camera with me so that I can document any future Santa sightings I have. Seen any good Santas lately?

What?

Do you have to be more beautiful than everyone else?