Hiromi

Her facial expressions kill me. But other than that, it's pretty awesome.

Pirouette and rond de jambe (sp?)

I tried to add a ballet class this morning. Then reality set in about ten minutes later. Thank heaven.

Summer Reading...

I just finished re-reading Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. It's the first time I've read it since I was fifteen or sixteen when I pulled it off my sister's bookcase one summer. I'm not sure what to say about it. My first response is to say that I "loved it," but I'm kind of sick of saying that I love things right now. It was good. Really good. Just a few months ago I read "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" for the first time. There's a copy of Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction at my parents' house, also in my sister's bookcase. I don't know a whole lot about them yet, but I like the Glass family very much. I haven't read Catcher in the Rye, and I'm rather uninterested.

Tonight I started reading through Neck Deep and Other Predicaments, a collection of essays by Ander Monson (pronounced Mun-sun, according to one of my former profs). I think that maybe I would recommend it. I haven't read it for a couple of years. He has an essay about car washes and about taking baths (he is self-conscious about his weight and talks about the water displacement); there is an essay about snow that I remember mostly for its comments on isolation. His writing is sometimes surprising, sometimes beautiful, sometimes crass, mostly honest, sometimes dull, sometimes it fails in a way, and more vulnerable than perhaps you would expect. Reading his collection makes me want to move to Minnesota. Which I don't understand because he grew up in Michigan (I think).

All of the following are from Ander Monson:

"My current toothpaste (no joke) is Aqua-Fresh Extreme Clean: Empowermint. It is most definitely righteous."

Just a warning for this next quote: you have to read the whole essay and see it in its environment to truly appreciate it. Basically, each time in this quote that there is an ellipsis, there are actually many more periods/ellipses in the real essay. Okay, here it is:

"I have been thinking about loss... How each winter is the story of a burial...gradual... (and each spring another revelation)... a compilation... a complication... until we are up to our necks... in North... in enough... in what we feel... what we contain... in what we are contained... in what we barely understand..."

"What I am trying to tell you is this: in my own way, I love you. And you can trust me, mostly. I won't lead, wouldn't lead, haven't led you wrong. It would be bad form. But please know that if I do lead you wrong, I once thought it was right."

Conversation Observation

Back in the days before I was married (well, basically, back in the days before I was dating Kegan, or during the times when Kegan and I were broken up) I had a way to "deal with" first-date conversations. First of, let me just say that I am not a great conversationalist. A lot of the time I just sit there, my brain like one of those dream-catcher things--lots of feathers, some beads, but basically nothing substantial to catch anything solid with. I don't really think of interesting responses until later when I'm re-thinking and re-hashing the whole conversation by myself; which is, of course, too late to actually contribute anything. I'm not good at starting conversations. I'm not good at throwing in interesting little trivia and personal experiences. Oh no. I can keep a conversation going sometimes--but it's often not pretty.

"So," you're asking, "how do you deal with first-date conversations?" Answer: I am an incurable question-asker.

The whole first-date scenario isn't really necessary, because that's how I deal with most conversations where I don't know what to do. But the first-date scenario is the first I thought of, so let's carry on, shall we?

It seems difficult to me to try and drop little bits of information about myself into a conversation without seeming like I want to a) impress whomever I'm talking to, b) brag (ah, the battle to one-up every human you come in contact with), c) force some kind of intimacy or interest on the part of the party I'm talking to. Whew. And heaven knows that you have to do SOMETHING during those horrific pauses of awkward silence that are NOT comfortable and are NOT because you're both musing to yourselves. They happen because you're both frantically trying to think of something-anything-anything at all-please please please! to say. What to do at those times? Ask a question.

It's easy. Example: you're in their car and spy a CD, "What band is this? Oh really? What's your favorite kind of music? Fascinating! Ever been to one of their concerts? Ducky! Do you play an instrument? You don't say! Bass or alto? Hmm. Yes. So, you played band in high school?" I could go on. There's no end in sight.

People love to talk about themselves. So, when the conversation is dying, why not start in on something that is sure to create some noise, even if just for a little while?

Now, this question-asking works better with some than others. Some people are delighted to be asked so much about themselves, others get annoyed by it or else think it's their duty to start firing back all the same questions at me. "Do you like pie? -Yes, I do! And do YOU like pie?"

I don't think I'm smarter than the average person, but I don't think I'm an idiot either. But I've had a few friends who told me they thought I was really smart. That probably sounds weird, but it's going to come together in a minute. You see, these people that are supposedly dazzled by my brilliance are the people that I actually talk to the least. Because our conversations generally consist of me listening while they talk. I think it stems a lot from me acting as a sounding board and as these people talk to/at me, they figure things out for themselves. I just happen to be around to look good and nod my head and smile encouragingly at the appropriate times. This observation doesn't really put my intellect in the best light--but there you have it.

Once again, my post is ending an an inconclusive, loose-ends-everywhere place. That's all.

Under the Sea

I like tuna sandwiches. Sometimes they are too fishy. Sometimes the tuna has twenty little bits of green onion in every bite (gross). Sometimes there is too much mayonnaise. (Mayonnaise, Miracle Whip. Are they the same thing? When I was a kid I thought they were two distinct products.)

I like the tuna on toasted wheat bread, with dill pickles cut up into small pieces and shredded iceberg lettuce.

Do you really want to know this? No.
Am I shaming the blogging world? Probably.
Do I feel ashamed? Not really. Well--a little.

I almost never order appetizers

Places I want to eat out at:

The Sconecutter (I'm curious. The 70s decor has caught my eye)
Rooster (their sign advertises dumplings and noodles)
Pete's Lunch (enough said)
Weinerschnitzel (it's a hotdog chain. That's all I've got)
Chinese Ninja-or whatever it's called (because WHAT THE HECK)
Pennyroyal cafe (to order more than just hot chocolate)
Carrabbas (they have landscaping on the roof)