A Veritable Smorgasbord.*

I went to the store today on my lunch break. We need water (as we will probably never trust the well water as a viable drinking source), and I had a few other things I wanted to pick up as well. Having already picked everything up I ventured to the frozen food section (this is why we don't shop hungry) and thought maybe I'd pick something up to take back to the office and heat up. The frozen food section wasn't really popular today, NO ONE was there. As I turned the corner a light came on in the doors directly across from me and over to my left. As I slowly traveled down the aisle I noticed that lights came on in the doors on either side of me. It was as though the contents of the doors finally saw me with their limited peripheral vision and turned on the lights to say, "Over here! Pick me!" Frozen pizzas, lean cuisine, concentrated orange juice, all calling my name with semi-bright, not so flashy lights. I was so distracted by this anomaly that I didn't even pay enough attention to actually settle on something for lunch. I walked right though and then went to the register.

But since we are on the topic of food, I was eating a Cheezit today and I thought about how there are some foods that give you the flavor blast at the beginning (flavor blast = the best taste the food can give you in the eating experience), some wait until you are in the middle of it, and others wait until the very end to show off its best flavor. All of course leave you wanting more. No matter when the flavor blast detonates you will find yourself wanting another of said food just to get that moment again.

But let's examine. A Cheezit is something that hits you right away, there's the cheese and the salt that hits your taste buds and jump into action. A chocolate (or in my case vanilla) covered pretzel doesn't do this right off the bat. You put one of those in your mouth and you've got the chocolate/vanilla...good - but not what you are going to grab one of these pretzels for. You bite into it and then you're hit with the flavor blast, the delicious mixture of salty and sweet in perfect harmony. Then there are things like jaw breakers. Where they taste good all the way through but the real prize is if you don't bite it and you let it get to that core that is slightly softer and kind of just disintegrates in your mouth (leaving you wanting another).

So then I'm talking to the Executive Admin (who sits outside of the CEO's office) and I'm telling her about the three stages of flavor blasts. As I am walking away her phone rings but the CEO (who I didn't notice was in his office) picks it up.

Slightly mortified, but not really cause it does take more to embarrass me, I come back to my desk and e-mail her saying, "Okay, next time warn me somehow that he's in there. I'm sure he doesn't need to hear my diatribe on flavor blasts in food." She just laughed.

Drama, drama, drama.*

My new goal: Optimism.

For those of you who know me (man, how many times do I write that phrase? 50 blog bucks for whoever is bored enough to find out)...anyway, let's get back on track. For those of you who know me, you know I'm not really what you would call an optimist. Realist is more like it, pessimist for the sake of not being disappointed but rather pleasantly surprised when things do or don't go wrong. It's a form of optimism I guess. My optimistic moments are usually my airhead moments where you wonder if any amount of intelligence exists within the creases or my brain...but enough about that.

My new goal, beginning this past Sunday, is to be more optimistic. The last goal I added on to my list was to develop greater some self discipline...it comes and goes. Now it's to be more optimistic. I think that generally I could be. It's the big things I'm trying to work out, life's plans that I have to stop telling myself won't happen. When life hands you lemons you make lemonade kind of thing.

So even though I have things going on in my life right now that I'm not too thrilled about, I know that things will work out in the end, for everyone's benefit, and if anyone tries to get in the way of my serenity...I'll punch them...with joy and happiness and pretty things.

So - I guess to commiserate this big moment in my life, I will leave you with 10 things to be happy about.

1. Yesterday I saw a bus being pulled over by a cop. How many people can say that they have seen a school bus pulled over? Pretty much the people in the car with me. I have now joined the ranks of special and unique.


2. I'm picking up harvest doughnuts from Krispy Kreme tomorrow morning (for someone's birthday), "Happy Birthday to you, hope there's a doughnut for me!"


3. It's almost fall!! One of my most favorite seasons is upon us...which means...it's almost Halloween! The weather already suggests fall is here too!


4. I feel really good. I feel like I've grown up a lot over the past two years and right now, I feel prepared to the point that I could handle anything that comes my way. (But I'm not telling fate to "bring it on")


5. I feel truly blessed for the people in my life. Each lead character in my life story teaches so much, more than they know. They teach me about life, self, religion, random facts, relationship skills, etc.


6. I don't stand in need of anything. I am able to take care of myself financially and emotionally and have everything I need (I want a Wii fit...but that's not a need so I'm still content).


7. Tonight is ultimate Frisbee night...I have grown to dearly love ultimate Frisbee


8. I am almost done with Mockingjay (though I don't know if to be happy or sad about that!)


9. I just had lunch with my family (a rather large chunk of it at least) and I got to spend the last couple of days with Martha and Jeff who were out here visiting


10. I'm going to be really close to having gone to all 50 states by the end of May!

Not the most deep and thought provoking list, but current things that make me feel like I can bear to be an optimist.

Is someone smoking within a six mile radius of where I'm standing?*

I recently finished reading the book Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. I have to admit it took me some time to get in to. The book begins in London and then enters into a mirror version of London call "Un Lun Dun" with other places connected to it like, "Parisnt". The reason I had difficulty is because, well because I am from Virginia. Reading a book based in London is one thing, you see a word and you think, "I wonder what that is?" You look it up and find out that it's a telephone or a toilet. But with this book it was, "What's that? Is it from London or is it a made up thing in Un Lun Don?" So, in Jessica fashion, I gave up on the book and read about 15 others before returning to it. Finally I told myself that I just needed to read it. My brother-in-law, Ben, is who lent it to me and I figured one day he'd like to get that book back, and he'd like to get it back knowing my thoughts on it. I can make stuff up pretty well, but not an entire book (...actually, I can) - maybe I should say a summary of a book, I can't make up a summary of a book.


I struggled through the beginning chapters (which were short little heaven sent chapters) and then suddenly, the book took off. Suddenly, I understood what I was reading. Right before I finished the book I wondered if that is what it is like to read Clockwork Orange, all nonsense at first and then the reward for sticking with it is that you will actually know what is happening. Maybe we'll try it (after I finish my 60-some books awaiting perusal).


My point in this blog is that I am jealous of China Mieville. He makes up this entire world Un Lun Dun and plays off of things in the real world, like the black window in Webminister Abbey, which really gives you the heebies. Or how giraffes are not all that cute (let's be honest here, ever since my first encounter with a giraffe I haven't been fooled). In fact, they are crazy carnivores (in Un Lun Dun...see below).


That's not cute. I saw a cute little cartoon drawing of a giraffe today and I thought, "eek, those things scare me." And not the way they used to scare me, it's on a deeper level now.

I'm jealous of China Mieville because I want to write well, I want to write stories that stick with you. I want to have an imagination that can make things up like black windows, binja (ninja trash bins), an ungun...I guess people have different styles, I doubt Charles Dickens could have written Un Lun Dun either, but that doesn't mean he wasn't a kick-butt writer.

When I read a really good book it leaves me with two feelings. I have the feeling of "I love this book!" coupled with the feeling of, "Crap, I'm not good enough." Who knows if I'll ever get published, I hope that I do, I would really, really like to have that happen some day. I'll do what I do and I guess we'll see.

I am beneath all of you, but nothing is beneath me!*

I am not dead. I suppose every once in a while a person could get to a point where they have nothing to say. This doesn't happen to me often because when I have nothing new to say, I find old things to say. And when I have neither new nor old, I just make crap up. Theories, syndromes, caste systems. The possibilities are endless with an overactive mind like mine. But lately I just haven't felt like writing. Seeing as how today I have completely caught up on all my work and have nothing to do for the next half hour...I write.

So once upon a time, back in eighth grade land (let's not talk about how many years ago that was) I was in my puke green gym suit playing ultimate Frisbee on the soccer field at school. Small groups of eighth graders were playing against small groups of seventh graders in a forced, non-competitive environment. Except one thing, I am competitive no matter what the dictates of my environment are and I despise cheaters.

What should appear amongst the throng of seventh graders playing against us? A cheater. Now...I can't remember details, and I refuse to believe that it is due to this event being so long ago, but rather that my mind has blocked it. It began to block it seconds into the confrontation because my friends will swear up and down that I said things that I don't recall saying. In retrospect, this all seems petty, but when I'm right - I'm right. In ultimate (at least middle school rules) you catch the Frisbee and can take three steps. This seventh grader took 4 or 5 and swore that she did not. We all saw it, we all knew it, but I apparently was the one to stand up about it (which is really actually, completely unlike me). The seventh grader and I got in a little verbal scrap - my first and final official fight within the school system. I do remember having to go to the guidance counselor and then sitting in her office crying and trying to get her to let me change schools, cause the grass is really greener on the other side (always). It didn't even have to do with the seventh grader at that point, I just wanted to change schools. No go on the school change. Anyway, that was the very randomly pieced together story of my bad experience with ultimate Frisbee. I avoided the sport for years.

A few years back however (and maybe it was just last year) I started to join the group of Ultimaters. A friend invited me, I went to just get some physical exercise. I figured I'd run up and down the field but nothing else. When someone on my team had the Frisbee I pointed out who they could pass it to - I had no desire to actually touch the Frisbee. Every once in a while someone would throw it to me, I'd most likely miss it, but when I caught it I felt really good inside. Pretty soon, I started to catch it more and more.

This year I've really enjoyed it. We play twice a week and I run up and down that field trying to get the Frisbee. I have even chosen it over basketball on more than one occasion. Last night was probably the best I've ever played (no seriously, not being cocky, just speaking seriously) it was awesome! My new goal had been to dive. I watched in awe as some of the guys would dive, tuck and roll, slide, etc. all in the name of catching the Frisbee. I am happy to report that I did all of those last night. It wasn't intentional, it was like the grass was wet, or the bottom of my shoes had lost all traction, but I was sliding all over the place, luckily 92% of the time I caught the Frisbee. I knocked down someone once too (all accidental). At one point the Frisbee was coming towards me, I thought for sure that a person on the other team was going to get it because there was no way that Frisbee was going to make it all the way to me, so I started to run forward as it started its descent towards the ground. I fell down on my knees so that my hands would be low enough to catch the Frisbee. My fingers slid under the Frisbee but my body was still in motion and as I grasped the Frisbee I did a little somersault and when that was done the Frisbee was still in my hand! I was shocked! It was exciting and I am happy to report that I absolutely love Frisbee, despite that bad experience back in middle school land.

Also, as with any sport, I am happy to report that I have a bruise right below my left eyebrow (from when the Frisbee said 'hello' to my face) and both of my knees are red and bruised. I love it!

I've been shot!*

I was going to write "I've been hacked!" but that isn't the quote and I've seen what happens to the guessing when I change the quotes. I would have gotten guesses for movies about computers, and that's just not where it's from. So...anyway. I've been hacked! Thanks Sarah for bringing it to my attention.

My hotmail e-mail took on a mind of it's own and started to e-mail some link to everyone in the contacts list. Since I no longer use my hotmail account I had no idea it was happening. So I signed in to over 2,000 new e-mails (almost all junk, maybe four or five were from real people and those were to tell me I've been hacked). I had failure to deliver notices up the wazoo, so I could tell when an e-mail had been sent...I even got the e-mail (because apparently I had myself in my contacts list...I don't know what that was all about).

Anyway, so I composed an e-mail and just sent it to everyone in my contacts list...as I know that I actually don't know everyone in my contacts list (I don't know where they came from, but I've seen names I don't recoonize) I threw in a stranger clause at the end. Here is what I said:

Hello,

It has come to my attention that my e-mail has been sending out spam. I don't even check this e-mail so you can imagine that I am upset that it has taken on a mind of it's own. I apologize for it's delinquency. In any case I will no longer be using this e-mail address (since I haven't really been using it for over a year now anyway). If you need to contact me, or would like to get back in touch my e-mail is @gmail.com (removed to prevent further spam). If you are receiving this e-mail and don't know who I am, that's fine, I probably don't know who you are either. In that case, let's just pretend this never happened. Thanks everyone!

So, that should take care of that. ...I hope.

In other news, in an effort to go green (which usually just means - spend less money and bulk up our profit) my company has decided to give us our choice of a coffee mug or a water bottle. Being the non-coffee drinker I am I went with the water bottle (plus, I already have a mug, it's holding my discolored sweatarts). Anyway, I got my water bottle today, and the sad thing is, it's probably the highlight of my morning. I was so happy, I went and washed it and filled it up with water and while I was walking back to my desk my arms were swinging, I was smiling, and little cartoon birds and squirrels sang a happy tune.

Yup - despite the e-mail hacking life is good.

What an unexpected rainstorm.*

Reminiscent Wednesday! (Because you guys love living my glory days with me right?)
This is the story of my very first DVD player. Yes, I am old enough to have a story like this.

I was in college, in good ole' Rexburg, living at Normandy apartments. I had recently lost my car to an automobile accident (that might be a whole different story). I'm a bit foggy on the details but something tells me I was trying to get back at Tami for a lame surprise (Tami - if you remember feel free to correct me). I had told her that I had a surprise for her, more that a surprise person was coming. So she nervously hung out at my apartment waiting for our surprise guest, trying to guess who it might be. "Is it a boy or a girl?" I shrugged my shoulders (because I didn't know). Finally there was a knock at the door, I can only imagine the excitement Tami felt as I went to the door, swung it open, and there was the pizza dude. Yes - my surprise visitor was the pizza delivery person.

So we ate pizza and then we wanted to watch Shanghai Knights...my very first DVD...but there was one problem. No DVD player. I had bought the DVD because it was on sale and I figured eventually I needed to start changing over my movie collection to those, but I didn't think how you need a player to view them. Since my car was gone we got Sara to give us a ride to the Wal-Mart, I made my selection (the cheapest) and we went through the line. Sara (and I believe Cassie) were already in the car as we approached it. Sara, ever the prankster, decided that she would drive away a little bit. Tami and I, ever the ticked off type, started to walk towards our apartments. Sara drove out of the parking lot and onto the street, she stopped near us to give us a ride back but we refused, at this point our pride had really kicked in and there was no getting around it. Sara said, "Fine" and was gone. I kept telling myself, and I think also telling Tami that Sara would come back. There was no way that she would not come back and make us walk home all the way from The Wal-Mart.
...But folks, Sara didn't come back. We stayed on the main road for quite some time in case she decided to come back for us, but finally we went the back roads - less cars and it was probably quicker. Below is a map showing our travels:

A DVD box is no easy thing to carry, the thing is very awkward. I had to keep switching arms as one arm would fall asleep. Did I mention it was summertime too? So it was hot, I had an awkward bulk, and our friend

just

left

us.

We were almost home, we could see the funky brick of the back wall of Normandy Apartments. Our legs and arms were exhausted, we were thirsty and hot, and home never looked so good. We were almost home and with our eyes on our home we failed to see the sprinklers in the lawn pop up (sprinklers are indicated with blue dots on the map above). We had to act fast and run with our weary legs and arms to the safety of the other side of the lawn. We finally made it back to my apartment, exhausted, and we still had to hook up the DVD player.

But...I don't remember the details of the rest of the night. I know we kept giving Sara a hard time about it for the rest of the summer, but that is kind of where my memory cuts off. I must have suppressed them due to the trauma.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

This weekend...this weekend...hmm...let's see.

Saturday morning I slept in until close to 9 o'clock...that means I clocked in close to 9 hours of sleep! What the Amazing? It was great. I finally got up, cooked up some breakfast and then laid in bed, cause I could. I finally got up for real and took a shower and got ready for the day. I had a date at 1 o'clock and I was meeting him downtown at the Edgar Allen Poe Museum. I had been there before but I tried to play it off like I hadn't. My pride got the best of me because we couldn't go upstairs in one of the buildings because there was going to be a wedding there and the room was reserved for the wedding party. My date wondered aloud what was up there and I said, "I know!" So...then I had to say, 'yeah, I've been here before'. It's the room where the voice over reads "The Raven", and on the other side of the teeny, tiny hallway is the boyhood room (replica) of Edgar Allen Poe...where it is said that a ghost resides. I was actually grateful to be looking at the lower level without hearing that super creepy voice coming from upstairs, and the boyhood room...creeps me out a little too, so all was well with me. I did learn something new, you see, there are so many things written in the museum that if I had a little more patience I would have read it all by now, but instead, being impatient, I get to learn something new each time I go.

Edgar Allen Poe was actually a little bit of an athlete! Who would have guessed, he doesn't strike me as an athlete- I guess because he writes or something, I don't know, it's possible.

Anyway, he swam six miles in the James River, which, according to the little plaque, has never been repeated. That's impressive.

That took a total of 30 minutes, so as we were leaving the museum we decided maybe we would get ice-cream (I had already eaten lunch). Neither of us really knew what was around, I knew of the River City Diner, and that was it, so we started to walk towards the Canal Walk because I remember seeing some shops down there last time I went. We stopped though because we saw the Holocaust Museum (I have been there before too, and admitted it this time). I guess this was kind of a macabre date.

I'm all for learning about history, but the Richmond Holocaust Museum has to be one of the scariest places that I have ever been...yet I keep going back. I think because it's free, therefore the people I am with always want to go. I jumped a few times and acted like a real pansy a few others. No matter how many times I am there that place will do it to me. It's eerie and I don't expect sunshine and butterflies, but I also don't like feeling like I'm in some scary movie. I did finally go through the tunnel. See, there is a tunnel in one of the rooms to demonstrate what it was like for one Jewish family that lived several weeks underground. I cheated and used my cell phone to light the way. Once to the main part of the tunnel there is a display set up with red light and a about a dozen plastic mannequins and a German audio recording ready to go once you get to a certain point...that point happened to be as I first noticed the dozen or so plastics looking at me. I don't think I screamed, but I can't say for certain that I didn't.

I am hesitant to say that it was fun, rather, it is always a sobering experience. Especially as you get to the liberation section and you read the stories of those who survived and those who found the survivors. I held my ground though, and didn't cry, but I mentally made it a point to finally finish reading Izzy's Fire, a book I bought at the gift shop there about...5 years ago. (P.S. I have been crying while I read that book...in the privacy of my own home of course). World War II just seemed to display the worst in people. The Americans were dropping A-bombs, the Germans were committing genocide, the Japanese were doing death marches and who knows what else because to be quite honest I don't know all that much. I know about the big things that they teach you in school and they make movies about. You look at all that was wrong and then you read about the soldiers coming in and pretty much saving those people and you think of all the soldiers that died just to get the armies there and how some of those prisoners were barely hanging on, to their lives, to their faith. Many of them having already lost all that they had. I read about soldiers, nurses, resistance fighters, one woman who left her daughter at a Catholic convent while she helped with the underground, helping Jewish families escape Nazi controlled countries. The best and the worst displayed in relatively a few short years. I wonder how our history will sum us up.

I didn't mean to get deep there, I was planning to go on and on about how when I got home I slept the rest of the day and go into a silly diatribe about how I must have contracted African Sleeping Sickness. African Sleeping Sickness (I was going to reduce that to just letters but thought better of it, and quickly) Diatribe averted. Rather, I would like to thank anyone who has ever devoted their time to serving our country, who knows how many lives they have affected with their service whether directly or indirectly. Thanks for all that you do!