In happier news, it would seem my Lord and Lady Stompington may have moved out! Building gossip suggests it, and the unnatural quiet we’ve been enjoying seconds the idea, but it has not been positively confirmed yet. Fingers crossed, all. Good fortune and goodbye!
Also, Sav and her husband CK may be moving into our building. Which would be lovely! When Venice basely abandons me, it would be nice to have someone I know and like in easy cup-of-sugar borrowing distance.
“Electricity is really just organized lightening.”
– George Carlin
Small Dog is positively charged.
We have card swipes on the doors to the secure areas of the department. Today while sliding my card through the reader, I got a jolt of power through my arm. Much like the time I unscrewed the bulb from a night light when I was seven (old enough to know better) and stuck my finger in the gap to see what it felt like. Don’t recommend it.
Later in the room where I take peoples’ fingerprints, the light wasn’t turning on. I flipped it a couple of times with no result until suddenly the lights buzzed into life…while the switch was in the “Off” position.
I’ve also been on the receiving end of two static shocks today.
“No one loves the messenger who brings bad news.”
– Sophocles
If I do not acknowledge the inevitable...
I’ve been in denial about an upcoming Tragic Event. This year as America celebrates its independence with exploding things and overeating, I’ll be not-celebrating my forced independence…from Venice. Val is done with his degree and they are moving to Kentucky on July 4th. This has been a long time coming, but of course I’ve stuck my metaphoric fingers in my ears and ignored the impending catastrophe.
Last weekend they flew out to Kentucky to scope out the area for his potential job, their potential home, and potential lives. Last night, coming home from work I saw him at their flat door and asked how the trip went. Really well, apparently, because he’s got the job and plans are now in motion.
“I am honestly thrilled for you guys, but you do realize I’m never going to forgive you for taking her away,” I said despondently.
“If it wasn’t for me you’d never have even met!” he reasoned.
Which is true. We used to live in the same apartment complex a few years ago and I got to be friends with him and his flatmates. One day he said, “I think you should meet my girlfriend. You two would get along really well.” The rest is well documented history.
The Val giveth and the Val taketh away.
Peregrine is in D.C., Scarlett is in New York, Angel is in the city, Margot (who just got back from New Zealand) is probably going to head north at some point in the near future. And I’m feeling supremely stuck and left behind. I’m trying really hard to keep perspective. J. and I will be moving back East in a couple of years and Venice (and most of others listed) are already on speed-dial…but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t devastated.
“Hear now a sorry tale of mortal man…”
– Aeschylus
The story of Prometheus is well known, but to recap… He was a titan who apparently sided with the Olympians when they wandered into Greece, looked around, and said, “We’ll take it.” Even though Zeus declares himself supreme-overlord-of-all-and-if-you-challenge-me-you-will-get-struck-by-bloody-lightning-I-am-not-kidding!, Prometheus demonstrates over and over again that he is far more clever than the majority of the pantheon. While Zeus is sneaking around behind his wife’s back, preening in a mirror, and trying (unsuccessfully) to keep his growing horde of illegitimate children quiet, Prometheus decides that he feels like creating humans and developing agriculture, writing, and the other civilizing arts.
"That'll learn you, thinking you're smarter than me..." "Wow. You're a huge jerk. Ow ow OW!"
But when he decided to steal fire (usually symbolizing technology in general) for mankind and smuggled it off Mount Olympus, Zeus finally lost it. Fed up with his tricks, overwhelming cleverness, and making him (Zeus) look bad, he chained Prometheus to a mountain and sent an eagle to eat his liver everyday, which miraculously regrew each night so he could be tortured in the same way daily, ad infinitum. One of the pesky downsides to being immortal.
The modern retelling of this myth is currently taking place on our front counter.
In an effort to help transition patrons to the new parking system, an unnamed officer bought two tiny laptops that our employees could use to walk individuals through the online process of registering their cars. Trouble was that for months the system was hovering in a state of semi-productivity limbo, even on a good day the internet connection on the laptops is shoddy at best, and the computers are almost never used. Not money well spent, in my opinion.
Not aesthetically pleasing, I feel.
However, one of the more obvious problems with this idea has been the method devised for keeping them in place (as it would be embarrassing for computers to get stolen from a police department); to wit, a tangled mass of wires, power strips, and chains wrapped around one another, the computers themselves, and drawer handles. Looking both ghetto and ridiculous.
Moral of the story: trying to bring enlightenment and ease to the populace will probably make you an object of aggravation, fit only to be tied up and left to rot.
“For the record, I hate it when people do things to celebrate ‘future mothers’ on Mothers’ Day, like giving out flowers in church, so I don’t want to do anything with the holiday until we actually have kids. However, if I’m pregnant on Mothers’ Day, I will expect you to do something, in the name of the fetus.”
“Duly noted.”
– C. and J.
While kids are a long ways off for us, we do have fun thinking about, arguing over, and speculating on our future family. “You know you can’t swear in front of the kids, right?”, “They will learn proper grammar, so help me!”, and “Piano lessons and a language are mandatory, ok?” He looks forward to wrestling with them on the floor and playing catch, I look forward to answering questions and watching them discover the world. And forcing them to read (though with us as parents, I don’t foresee too great a struggle in that vein). I like to tease him about how, by marrying a petite woman like me, he’s forfeited his chance at a child playing basketball, and he counters that he’s switched his plans to baseball. He takes a great deal of pleasure in shooting down all my potential baby names, and I smugly let him think what he wants because after nine months toting the little parasite around, gaining weight, going mental, being violently ill, and forcibly expelling it through a grueling multi-hour ordeal, I think I’ll manage to get the final say.
However, we are firmly on the same page regarding one thing about children: slave labor. Oh, yes. They will have chores. Starting young. It’s going to be fun to make them pull weeds, mow the lawn, and dust the house. Mummy loves you, darlings!
“‘Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext’rous; some by features Are brought up, others by a warlike leader; Some by a place–as tend their years or natures; The most by ready cash–but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.”
– Lord Byron, Don Juan canto V, st. 27
Holidays are fun, regardless of nationality. Take today: Cindo de Mayo. Some people celebrate with chips and salsa, some with a fiesta, some with mariachi bands. And some with bribery.
A certain student is banned from driving on campus. This is due in large part to him accumulating up to four tickets in one day, parking in service/handicapped stalls, trying to fight our student officers, and claiming that he never received information that three people all told him (at the same time, in the same room together). He was informed he had the ability to appeal the ban but would not be able to bring his car onto campus until a final decision had been made. He said he understood and left.
Pictured: the filthy tool of corruption!
Today he came into our office, and asked for Red.
“You know about Cinco de Mayo, right?” he asked. “It’s today. So I brought you this.”
He held out a small packaged piece of tres leches cake with a meaningful expression.
“K, bye” he said quickly and hurried out.
Five minutes later we found his car in a non-student parking lot.
The real mystery here is, if he were trying to circumvent parking rules, why did he draw attention to himself by 1) attempted bribery and, 2) (and this is more perplexing) leaving his emergency lights flashing merrily away for over an hour?
How do you celebrate Cinco de Mayo? Or any holiday for that matter?
“As to London we must console ourselves with the thought that if life outside is less poetic than it was in the days of old, inwardly its poetry is much deeper.”
– Goldwin Smith
Outside it’s gray and misty, but with the unmistakable green tinge of bursting leaves. Still a little hesitant, but very much there. Which invariably makes me think of London for some reason.
“It’s an area of Dublin that still has lots of character. It hasn’t been yuppified to ****.”
Lisa’s spirits started a slow slither. She was desperate to live in a place that had been yuppified to ****.
– Marian Keys, Sushi for Beginners
Every once and a while a strange urge takes hold of me, shakes me around a bit as I struggle to be free of its grasp, and and is finally, forcibly thrown off while I stagger around gasping and trying to reorient myself. It’s the (understandable but currently impractical) desire to have an upwardly-mobile-ish change to our lifestyle.
Nothing desperate, you understand. But maybe…an in-house dishwasher (that isn’t J., I mean). Or a newer flat that doesn’t have creaky floors (or my Lord and Lady Stompington above us). A second car, one that can manage the highways without 4000 rpms or a using half a tank of gas to get to the city (45 minutes away).
Now, I’m aware that I’m in one of the best phases of my life. Newly (relatively) married, no kids, no mortgages, the ability to do nearly whatever J. and I want. And yet…sometimes I have this strange desire to be just a bit further on. First house together and past renting creaky flats. First pet, instead of surreptitiously googling local breeders and the Human Society at work. First real double income paycheck, instead of single-and-very-small checks on paydays.
Again, I feel as if this an understandable feeling, but I’m constantly shocked by what will trigger the flood of longing. Today Wise and I headed out to get a cake for our monthly department birthday party. The venue was Costco, wherein I have not spent previous quality time. Oh dear.
Back, temptress!
There were boxes of strawberries that had not yet succumbed to slime and decay. There were bags of frozen chicken that contained more than two or three breasts. There were quality diamonds, iPods, lawn chairs, massive bags of chips, huge bales of toilet paper…yes, it was all very impressive. But, above all, there were SAMPLES.
Wise and I wandered the store sucking down granola, salad, juice, and finally this.
And now, suddenly, I am wrestling the desire for a Costco membership, something I will probably not need until there are more than two of us…solely because I now crave a bottle of Roasted Blackberry Chipotle Sauce. Aren’t I supposed to be craving babies or something? Why do I want a dog and fancy fruit/chili sauce instead?
“I’m having a little trouble concentrating.”
“Oh, well I could sell you some of my Adderall if you want.”
“No, thanks, I’m off pills.”
“That’s a wise choice because I knew this girl who like had this crazy freak out because she took too many behavioral meds at once and she like ripped off her clothes, and dove into the fountain at Ridgedale Mall and was like, ‘Blah I am a Kraken from the sea!'”
“I hear that was you.”
“Well, it was good seeing you, Su-Chin.”
– Juno, 2007
I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve decided that the stupidest line that could ever possibly be shouted out at any given time is, “Release the Kraken.”
For one very good reason: it’s overused. Which is too bad really, it’s a potentially great line completely slaughtered by pop culture.
There are the hordes of annoying people trying to celebrate this year’s remake of Clash of the Titans, by trying to make “Release the Kraken” happen.
This phenomena is not new. One of the oddest utterances of this phrase occurred in 2004, during a pre-season friendly between Liverpool and Celtic held in Connecticut. Max Bretos on the Fox Sports commentary team shouted the following…
In fact, the only time I’ve ever heard the word “kraken” without its seeming obligatory introductory “release the-” has been in Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean series (which is also, incidentally, dying the slow death of cultural over-exposure).
I’m shallow enough to admit that the constant barrage of this phrase, overheard in grocery stores, at malls, on campus, and in parking lots (in the last week alone), is the main reason that I have no interest in seeing this movie. Also, I remember seeing the original at some point in my childhood and, being something of a wunderkind with mythology (read: nerd), feeling absolutely disgusted with the creative liberties they took. Mechanical owl? Medusa spitting scorpions from her decapitated neck? Acidic blood? Please! I’m a purist.
Small Dog Syndrome 