As in, I am the epitome of.
Or not, as evidenced by my swan dive onto the subway tracks yesterday. Mug of tea in hand, backpack securely on both shoulders, I was crossing the subway tracks in order to reach the 'inbound' platform. For those of you not intimately familiar with Boston subway systems, the green line is one of the only remaining streetcar style subway lines - the rest go through more metropolitan areas so they more closely resemble the NYC subway system than the trolleys down St. Charles.
I love the green line. It goes through the outerlying suburbs, some lovely parks, lots of green places for dogs to run, next to the campus of Boston College. Just beautiful, especially in the snow. But when it is above ground, you have to cross over the actual subway tracks in order to reach the opposing platform. I do this every day, usually without any incident of major injury, but yesterday was my day. So, proceeding slowly as to not catch my foot on the inside of the track, what did I do. I caught my foot on the track and went down square on my left knee, on top of the subway track, also managing to hit my right hip. Oh the joys of gravity.
I'm not usually a clumsy person. I've never broken, twisted, fractured, sprained, or any of the like injuries that occur to ankles or knees or whatnot. But I have to tell you, Monet would be jealous of the color palate that's decorating my knee right now. As the school nurse said to me, "Yep, you sure did it good."
But since when did I ever do anything half-ass?
Talked to the parents yesterday. They have halfway moved into their FEMA trailer. You know, the one that's been sitting in front of the house for a month now but only in the last week did FEMA see fit to come out and hook up the electricity, water, and sewer. Truly, my folks are handling this remarkably well. Mom has not yet cussed out their insurance agent, and the only person who has sustained any injuries as of late is Oma. Something about a satellite television thing and how she was trying to dismantle it - getting details out of her is like trying to get a musicologist to admit they like the Bee Gees - and it ended with her breaking her arm and having to have surgery. It's heartening to know that she's persnickety as ever and determined to go home as soon as possible. At the same time, any possibility of her being well enough to travel for the wedding is out of the question. This means the reigning matriarch present will be Amparo. I can't wait to see the looks on the Pesci family's faces when I introduce her as my grandmother. HI-larious.
Hope everyone is well this week. And if anyone feels compelled to write twenty-five pages on medieval pageantry and Benjamin Britten, let me know.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Flashbacks
So Stacey suggested this interesting meme - songs from the year you graduated high school. Now keep in mind, I'm a die-hard 80's fan so my idea of a good time was still listening to New Order, old Depeche Mode and slow dancing to Berlin (dreaming of a much younger than he is now Tom Cruise) but that's me. As instructed, my favorites are italicized.
Most popular songs of 1997
1. Candle In The Wind 1997, Elton John
2. Foolish Games / You Were Meant For Me, Jewel
3. I'll Be Missing You, Puff Daddy and Faith Evans
4. Un-Break My Heart, Toni Braxton
5. Can't Nobody Hold Me Down, Puff Daddy
6. I Believe I Can Fly, R. Kelly
7. Don't Let Go (Love), En Vogue
8. Return Of The Mack, Mark Morrison
9. How Do I Live, LeAnn Rimes
10. Wannabe, Spice Girls
11. Quit Playing Games (With My Heart), Backstreet Boys
12. MMMBop, Hanson
13. For You I Will, Monica
14. You Make Me Wanna..., Usher
15. Bitch, Meredith Brooks
16. Nobody Keith Sweat
17. Semi-Charmed Life, Third Eye Blind
18. Barely Breathing, Duncan Sheik
19. Hard To Say I'm Sorry, Az Yet Featuring Peter Cetera
20. Mo Money Mo Problems, Notorious B.I.G.
21. The Freshmen, Verve Pipe
22. I Want You, Savage Garden
23. No Diggity, BLACKstreet Featuring Dr. Dre
24. I Belong To You (Every Time I See Your Face), Rome
25. Hypnotize, Notorious B.I.G.
26. Every Time I Close My Eyes, Babyface
27. In My Bed, Dru Hill
28. Say You'll Be There, Spice Girls
29. Do You Know (What It Takes), Robyn
30. 4 Seasons Of Loneliness, Boyz II Men
31. G.H.E.T.T.O.U.T., Changing Faces
32. Honey, Mariah Carey
33. I Believe In You And Me, Whitney Houston
34. Da' Dip, Freaknasty
35. 2 Become 1, Spice Girls
36. All For You, Sister Hazel
37. Cupid, 112
38. Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?, Paula Cole
39. Sunny Came Home, Shawn Colvin
40. It's Your Love, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill
41. Ooh Aah... Just A Little Bit, Gina G
42. Mouth, Merril Bainbridge
43. All Cried Out, Allure Featuring 112
44. I'm Still In Love With You, New Edition
45. Invisible Man, 98 Degrees
46. Not Tonight, Lil' Kim
47. Look Into My Eyes, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
48. Get It Together, 702
49. All By Myself, Celine Dion
50. It's All Coming Back To Me Now, Celine Dion
51. My Love Is The Shhh!, Somethin' For The People
52. Where Do You Go, No Mercy
53. I Finally Found Someon, Barbra Streisand and Bryan Adams
54. I'll Be, Foxy Brown Featuring Jay-Z
55. If It Makes You Happy , Sheryl Crow
56. Never Make A Promise, Dru Hill
57. When You Love A Woman, Journey
58. Up Jumps Da Boogie, Magoo And Timbaland
59. I Don't Want To / I Love Me Some Him, Toni Braxton
60. Everyday Is A Winding Road, Sheryl Crow
61. Cold Rock A Party, Mc Lyte
62. Pony, Ginuwine
63. Building A Mystery, Sarah McLachlan
64. I Love You Always Forever, Donna Lewis
65. Your Woman, White Town
66. C U When U Get There, Coolio
67. Change The World, Eric Clapton
68. My Baby Daddy, B-Rock and The Bizz
69. Tubthumping, Chumbawamba
70. Gotham City, R. Kelly
71. Last Night, Az Yet
72. ESPN Presents The Jock Jam, Various Artists
73. Big Daddy, Heavy D
74. What About Us, Total
75. Smile, Scarface
76. What's On Tonight, Montell Jordan
77. Secret Garden, Bruce Springsteen
78. The One I Gave My Heart, w Aaliyah
79. Fly Like An Eagle, Seal
80. No Time, Lil' Kim
81. Naked Eye, Luscious Jackson
82. Macarena (Bayside Boys Mix), Los Del Rio
83. On and On, Erykah Badu
84. Don't Wanna Be A Player, Joe
85. I Shot The Sheriff, Warren G
86. You Should Be Mine (Don't Waste Your Time), Brian McKnight Featuring Mase
87. Don't Cry For Me Argentina, Madonna
88. Someone, SWV
89. Go The Distance, Michael Bolton
90. One More Time, Real McCoy
91. Butta Love, Next
92. Coco Jamboo, Mr. President
93. Twisted, Keith Sweat
94. Barbie Girl, Aqua
95. When You're Gone / Free To Decide, Cranberries
96. Let Me Clear My Throat, DJ Kool
97. I Like It, Blackout Allstars
98. You're Makin' Me High / Let It Flow, Toni Braxton
99. You Must Love Me, Madonna
100. Let It Go, Ray J
I'd forgotten how much everything on the radio sucked that year. Going to Jazzfest and seeing the Indigo Girls later that summer somehow erased my memory of "I put my hand up on your hip, when I dip, you dip, we dip" which still sort of reads to me like an easy way to learn foreign language conjugations. I wonder what the German infinitive for "to dip" is...
Looking at the other lists on musicoutfitters.com I now realize when my tastes in music made the full conversion into mindless pop - in 2001, the same year I began a masters degree in musicology - I was listening to Eve, Destiny's Child, and Kylie Minogue like there was no tomorrow. I suppose one could justify that by saying that, in the other fourteen waking hours of the day, I was transcribing 15th century violin music from arcane notation and writing essays on spirituality in Irish lyric poetry as they pertained to the music of Samuel Barber, but that's really no excuse for a doctoral student in music to like ABBA as much as I do.
Will they take away my degree for admitting that I liked the Spice Girls?
Most popular songs of 1997
1. Candle In The Wind 1997, Elton John
2. Foolish Games / You Were Meant For Me, Jewel
3. I'll Be Missing You, Puff Daddy and Faith Evans
4. Un-Break My Heart, Toni Braxton
5. Can't Nobody Hold Me Down, Puff Daddy
6. I Believe I Can Fly, R. Kelly
7. Don't Let Go (Love), En Vogue
8. Return Of The Mack, Mark Morrison
9. How Do I Live, LeAnn Rimes
10. Wannabe, Spice Girls
11. Quit Playing Games (With My Heart), Backstreet Boys
12. MMMBop, Hanson
13. For You I Will, Monica
14. You Make Me Wanna..., Usher
15. Bitch, Meredith Brooks
16. Nobody Keith Sweat
17. Semi-Charmed Life, Third Eye Blind
18. Barely Breathing, Duncan Sheik
19. Hard To Say I'm Sorry, Az Yet Featuring Peter Cetera
20. Mo Money Mo Problems, Notorious B.I.G.
21. The Freshmen, Verve Pipe
22. I Want You, Savage Garden
23. No Diggity, BLACKstreet Featuring Dr. Dre
24. I Belong To You (Every Time I See Your Face), Rome
25. Hypnotize, Notorious B.I.G.
26. Every Time I Close My Eyes, Babyface
27. In My Bed, Dru Hill
28. Say You'll Be There, Spice Girls
29. Do You Know (What It Takes), Robyn
30. 4 Seasons Of Loneliness, Boyz II Men
31. G.H.E.T.T.O.U.T., Changing Faces
32. Honey, Mariah Carey
33. I Believe In You And Me, Whitney Houston
34. Da' Dip, Freaknasty
35. 2 Become 1, Spice Girls
36. All For You, Sister Hazel
37. Cupid, 112
38. Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?, Paula Cole
39. Sunny Came Home, Shawn Colvin
40. It's Your Love, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill
41. Ooh Aah... Just A Little Bit, Gina G
42. Mouth, Merril Bainbridge
43. All Cried Out, Allure Featuring 112
44. I'm Still In Love With You, New Edition
45. Invisible Man, 98 Degrees
46. Not Tonight, Lil' Kim
47. Look Into My Eyes, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
48. Get It Together, 702
49. All By Myself, Celine Dion
50. It's All Coming Back To Me Now, Celine Dion
51. My Love Is The Shhh!, Somethin' For The People
52. Where Do You Go, No Mercy
53. I Finally Found Someon, Barbra Streisand and Bryan Adams
54. I'll Be, Foxy Brown Featuring Jay-Z
55. If It Makes You Happy , Sheryl Crow
56. Never Make A Promise, Dru Hill
57. When You Love A Woman, Journey
58. Up Jumps Da Boogie, Magoo And Timbaland
59. I Don't Want To / I Love Me Some Him, Toni Braxton
60. Everyday Is A Winding Road, Sheryl Crow
61. Cold Rock A Party, Mc Lyte
62. Pony, Ginuwine
63. Building A Mystery, Sarah McLachlan
64. I Love You Always Forever, Donna Lewis
65. Your Woman, White Town
66. C U When U Get There, Coolio
67. Change The World, Eric Clapton
68. My Baby Daddy, B-Rock and The Bizz
69. Tubthumping, Chumbawamba
70. Gotham City, R. Kelly
71. Last Night, Az Yet
72. ESPN Presents The Jock Jam, Various Artists
73. Big Daddy, Heavy D
74. What About Us, Total
75. Smile, Scarface
76. What's On Tonight, Montell Jordan
77. Secret Garden, Bruce Springsteen
78. The One I Gave My Heart, w Aaliyah
79. Fly Like An Eagle, Seal
80. No Time, Lil' Kim
81. Naked Eye, Luscious Jackson
82. Macarena (Bayside Boys Mix), Los Del Rio
83. On and On, Erykah Badu
84. Don't Wanna Be A Player, Joe
85. I Shot The Sheriff, Warren G
86. You Should Be Mine (Don't Waste Your Time), Brian McKnight Featuring Mase
87. Don't Cry For Me Argentina, Madonna
88. Someone, SWV
89. Go The Distance, Michael Bolton
90. One More Time, Real McCoy
91. Butta Love, Next
92. Coco Jamboo, Mr. President
93. Twisted, Keith Sweat
94. Barbie Girl, Aqua
95. When You're Gone / Free To Decide, Cranberries
96. Let Me Clear My Throat, DJ Kool
97. I Like It, Blackout Allstars
98. You're Makin' Me High / Let It Flow, Toni Braxton
99. You Must Love Me, Madonna
100. Let It Go, Ray J
I'd forgotten how much everything on the radio sucked that year. Going to Jazzfest and seeing the Indigo Girls later that summer somehow erased my memory of "I put my hand up on your hip, when I dip, you dip, we dip" which still sort of reads to me like an easy way to learn foreign language conjugations. I wonder what the German infinitive for "to dip" is...
Looking at the other lists on musicoutfitters.com I now realize when my tastes in music made the full conversion into mindless pop - in 2001, the same year I began a masters degree in musicology - I was listening to Eve, Destiny's Child, and Kylie Minogue like there was no tomorrow. I suppose one could justify that by saying that, in the other fourteen waking hours of the day, I was transcribing 15th century violin music from arcane notation and writing essays on spirituality in Irish lyric poetry as they pertained to the music of Samuel Barber, but that's really no excuse for a doctoral student in music to like ABBA as much as I do.
Will they take away my degree for admitting that I liked the Spice Girls?
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
paging Dr. Hurlburt
Okay. So you know how I said it snowed? All day Saturday it snowed?
Today it's 70 and sunny. Not a trace of snow, or even cold weather. My lovely green scarf has been relegated to the backpack because it's actually too warm to even wear a coat outside. And I thought Louisiana had schizophrenic weather.
To the DP, I need a graph or something from Harley.
Hope everyone is having a marvelous week - I'm off to my voice lesson and an hour of Handel's Messiah, beating my head against six pages of runs and fioratura to try and sound like the musical embodiment of the angel of the Lord.
Today it's 70 and sunny. Not a trace of snow, or even cold weather. My lovely green scarf has been relegated to the backpack because it's actually too warm to even wear a coat outside. And I thought Louisiana had schizophrenic weather.
To the DP, I need a graph or something from Harley.
Hope everyone is having a marvelous week - I'm off to my voice lesson and an hour of Handel's Messiah, beating my head against six pages of runs and fioratura to try and sound like the musical embodiment of the angel of the Lord.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Snow!
Okay, so as of November 1, we are not allowed to park on the street because of the beginning of snow season.
Snow season came early this year - it began sprinkling earlier today and now we are in the midst of a full fledged snow storm! Going outside with the dog to play!
Snow season came early this year - it began sprinkling earlier today and now we are in the midst of a full fledged snow storm! Going outside with the dog to play!
Act II - exeunt Tosca
As most of you already know, there is a new car in my life. About half an hour ago, we picked up Lakme, our new Honda Civic. She's a good girl, handles well, and gets bitchin gas mileage, but it made me sad to walk away from Tosca. She looked so forlorn. And then, it began to snow.
Yes, I said snow.
It didn't snow long, but I have to tell you, when an unexpected snowflake hits your glasses, it gives you a moment's pause.
So that was one part of my week. The other part of my week was going to NYC to visit my friend Sherri and to sing for the Marilyn Horne Foundation. After many initial mishaps involving the Fung Wah Bus (it's only $30 round trip and now I know why) and a large band of teenaged German tourists, I had a marvelous time with Sherri, a luscious lunch in Little Italy and, if I do say so myself, a pretty kick-ass audition. Yesterday I received an email inviting me to take part in these master classes which means:
1. they will pay for me to take the train, an infinitely more civilized mode of transport
2. they will feed me and put me up in a nice hotel across the street from the concert venue which happens to be...
3. CARNEGIE HALL!!!
That's right kids, yours truly is going to sing at Carnegie Hall. I'm still tingling - between that and the smell of the new car, I need to pour myself a drink! Hope everyone is doing well on this glorious weekend.
Yes, I said snow.
It didn't snow long, but I have to tell you, when an unexpected snowflake hits your glasses, it gives you a moment's pause.
So that was one part of my week. The other part of my week was going to NYC to visit my friend Sherri and to sing for the Marilyn Horne Foundation. After many initial mishaps involving the Fung Wah Bus (it's only $30 round trip and now I know why) and a large band of teenaged German tourists, I had a marvelous time with Sherri, a luscious lunch in Little Italy and, if I do say so myself, a pretty kick-ass audition. Yesterday I received an email inviting me to take part in these master classes which means:
1. they will pay for me to take the train, an infinitely more civilized mode of transport
2. they will feed me and put me up in a nice hotel across the street from the concert venue which happens to be...
3. CARNEGIE HALL!!!
That's right kids, yours truly is going to sing at Carnegie Hall. I'm still tingling - between that and the smell of the new car, I need to pour myself a drink! Hope everyone is doing well on this glorious weekend.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
ooooooooooh, the Lord is good to me!
So yesterday was a poopy day. I didn't get an audition for Glimmerglass opera, my car's transmission started acting funny, and I seriously contemplated changing my major to choral conducting and giving the opera world the finger.
And then.....as He always does in His own time (yes Lord I know that I am not a patient person and this will be my life long lesson)...a wonderful email showed up from the Britten-Pears program. For those of you who do not know of what I speak, the Britten-Pears program is run by a huge foundation that originated as a music festival in England and performances are held at the Snape Maltings Hall(you only thought that Harry Potter character name was made up).
This is a big deal. They are doing a fully staged Rake's Progress and I have an audition. I HAVE AN AUDITION!!! And if, big IF, I get a part, then they will fly me over to merry England for six weeks of lovely opera. Hooray! I'm going off to frolic!
And then.....as He always does in His own time (yes Lord I know that I am not a patient person and this will be my life long lesson)...a wonderful email showed up from the Britten-Pears program. For those of you who do not know of what I speak, the Britten-Pears program is run by a huge foundation that originated as a music festival in England and performances are held at the Snape Maltings Hall(you only thought that Harry Potter character name was made up).
This is a big deal. They are doing a fully staged Rake's Progress and I have an audition. I HAVE AN AUDITION!!! And if, big IF, I get a part, then they will fly me over to merry England for six weeks of lovely opera. Hooray! I'm going off to frolic!
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Taking Stacey's lead, things I've learned about myself today
One of my better features is my ability to catch on quickly. This however does not apply when dealing with the opposite sex.
I am a subversive, pragmatic rule follower.
I do love beer. As only a woman can love a beer.
I am a classy, refined Hindrichs (German for snob) something else
I have cried in front of half of the western hemisphere - but lately it's been onstage so at least the venue is more specific!
I am both funny sarcastic and funny ha-ha, but mostly sarcastic.
And most people, upon first glance, noticed that I am tall.
All persons on the distribution list knew that I am in love with a special someone (though Casey maintains that she doesn't know if he ever had an association with a short bus so she refrains from applying the term "special" - smart ass) and that when pressed to name a homosapien (funny guy, you know I love my dog) they came up with the name of the fiancee (and kudos to Stacey for getting all three names, though I suspect that's because she's holding an invitation)
And finally, that I have a flair for the nerdy. Honey, I don't have flair for the nerdy, I wrote the book on nerdy. Have you seen the thickness of my glasses?
Love to y'all, hope you're having a good day. I have a scholarship interview in an hour, cross those fingers!
I am a subversive, pragmatic rule follower.
I do love beer. As only a woman can love a beer.
I am a classy, refined Hindrichs (German for snob) something else
I have cried in front of half of the western hemisphere - but lately it's been onstage so at least the venue is more specific!
I am both funny sarcastic and funny ha-ha, but mostly sarcastic.
And most people, upon first glance, noticed that I am tall.
All persons on the distribution list knew that I am in love with a special someone (though Casey maintains that she doesn't know if he ever had an association with a short bus so she refrains from applying the term "special" - smart ass) and that when pressed to name a homosapien (funny guy, you know I love my dog) they came up with the name of the fiancee (and kudos to Stacey for getting all three names, though I suspect that's because she's holding an invitation)
And finally, that I have a flair for the nerdy. Honey, I don't have flair for the nerdy, I wrote the book on nerdy. Have you seen the thickness of my glasses?
Love to y'all, hope you're having a good day. I have a scholarship interview in an hour, cross those fingers!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Forays into technology and other signs of the apocalypse
So along with Drew's mom buying a cell phone, I am here to forecast another sign of the apocalypse.
I agree with Ann Coulter on something. Duck and cover people.
Just for fun, I was perusing her website and came across this little ditty. I especially like the part where she says that Miers isn't even qualified to play a Supreme Court justice on "The West Wing."
In other news, a FEMA trailer showed up unexpectedly at the parents' homestead so they will be living in front of their house while it's under construction. This seems to make mom happy - living with my dad is interesting enough, but living with my dad, and the dog, and a hospital full of people is a little much, even for the fortitude of Miss Jean. They got married 33 years ago, moved out of their parents' houses and into their apartment, and have not lived in any kind of communal lifestyle since 1972, with the exception of a few summer beach excursions with family for three or four days at a time. Suffice it to say that 'the more the merrier' is not their motto. I just hope that State Farm stops dragging its feet and gets on the proverbial ball, otherwise they will be the recipients of yet another unpleasantly frequent letter-writing campaign by yours truly.
Sent out all of the wedding invites today. Huzzah!
I agree with Ann Coulter on something. Duck and cover people.
Just for fun, I was perusing her website and came across this little ditty. I especially like the part where she says that Miers isn't even qualified to play a Supreme Court justice on "The West Wing."
In other news, a FEMA trailer showed up unexpectedly at the parents' homestead so they will be living in front of their house while it's under construction. This seems to make mom happy - living with my dad is interesting enough, but living with my dad, and the dog, and a hospital full of people is a little much, even for the fortitude of Miss Jean. They got married 33 years ago, moved out of their parents' houses and into their apartment, and have not lived in any kind of communal lifestyle since 1972, with the exception of a few summer beach excursions with family for three or four days at a time. Suffice it to say that 'the more the merrier' is not their motto. I just hope that State Farm stops dragging its feet and gets on the proverbial ball, otherwise they will be the recipients of yet another unpleasantly frequent letter-writing campaign by yours truly.
Sent out all of the wedding invites today. Huzzah!
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Tagged again - what is this, third grade playground?
So the DP tagged me to do another 7 things blog list, but since I find this one interesting, I will humor her. Besides, she's in Switzerland and has to deal with Swiss Germans. The girl has to find entertainment somewhere.
7 people I admire:
1. My grandparents on both sides, for leaving their homelands in search of the proverbial better life for their children. And also for keeping their native tongues and not trying to go totally American with the polyester suits and the jell-o mold desserts. Herring salad is a little scary, but I'll be damned if it's not German.
2. My voice teacher - he's a badass but doesn't say so.
3. Ray Nagin
4. Hilary Clinton - for staying married to her husband and managing to maintain her dignity.
5. Benjamin Britten and Samuel Barber - for not making their sexual preferences a musicological topic as pertains to their music
6. Organists - the hands and feet, no matter how much I practice, they just don't jive
7. My mom - for not sending me to a convent and/or asylum
7 things I plan to do in the next year:
1. Get married (you're saving the date, right?)
2. Learn Conjunctive II in German
3. Submit one of my articles for publication
4. Give a recital
5. Go back home for at least a week or two
6. See my brother graduate high school (someone hand me a sedative)
7. Go back to England
7 books I love:
1. Credo - William Sloane Coffin
2. The letters of James Agee to Father Flye
3. The BFG - Roald Dahl
4. East of Eden - Steinbeck
5. Pride and Prejudice - Austen
6. Fairy tales in the original German
7. Homegrown Democrat - Garrison Keillor
7 movies I have to own:
1. When Harry Met Sally (done)
2. 7 brides for 7 brothers (done)
3. The remains of the day
4. Howard's End
5. Gone with the wind
6. Lady and the tramp (only on VHS - curse you Disney!)
7. Moonstruck (done)
7 places I want to visit (excluding places I've already been)
1. Anywhere in Italy
2. Switzerland
3. Argentina
4. Cuba
5. Anchorage
6. Moscow
7. The Netherlands
7 places I've already been:
1. Paris
2. Nice
3. London (lots)
3. Berlin
4. Victoria, BC
5. Marburg
6. Monterrey, Mexico
7. Tickfaw, LA (ten points if you know where this is!)
7 websites I love:
1. The New Yorker's website www.newyorker.com
2. Prairie Home Companion www.prairiehome.publicradio.org
3. The New York Times www.nytimes.com
4. The Weather Channel www.weather.com
5. New Orleans www.nola.com
6. Trinity Boston www.trinityboston.org
7. Southern Miss (gotta keep up with the old digs) www.usm.edu
I tag: Drew, Stacey (that's twice for you kids), Emily, Casey, Sheralyn and Rebecca (if they're keeping up)
7 people I admire:
1. My grandparents on both sides, for leaving their homelands in search of the proverbial better life for their children. And also for keeping their native tongues and not trying to go totally American with the polyester suits and the jell-o mold desserts. Herring salad is a little scary, but I'll be damned if it's not German.
2. My voice teacher - he's a badass but doesn't say so.
3. Ray Nagin
4. Hilary Clinton - for staying married to her husband and managing to maintain her dignity.
5. Benjamin Britten and Samuel Barber - for not making their sexual preferences a musicological topic as pertains to their music
6. Organists - the hands and feet, no matter how much I practice, they just don't jive
7. My mom - for not sending me to a convent and/or asylum
7 things I plan to do in the next year:
1. Get married (you're saving the date, right?)
2. Learn Conjunctive II in German
3. Submit one of my articles for publication
4. Give a recital
5. Go back home for at least a week or two
6. See my brother graduate high school (someone hand me a sedative)
7. Go back to England
7 books I love:
1. Credo - William Sloane Coffin
2. The letters of James Agee to Father Flye
3. The BFG - Roald Dahl
4. East of Eden - Steinbeck
5. Pride and Prejudice - Austen
6. Fairy tales in the original German
7. Homegrown Democrat - Garrison Keillor
7 movies I have to own:
1. When Harry Met Sally (done)
2. 7 brides for 7 brothers (done)
3. The remains of the day
4. Howard's End
5. Gone with the wind
6. Lady and the tramp (only on VHS - curse you Disney!)
7. Moonstruck (done)
7 places I want to visit (excluding places I've already been)
1. Anywhere in Italy
2. Switzerland
3. Argentina
4. Cuba
5. Anchorage
6. Moscow
7. The Netherlands
7 places I've already been:
1. Paris
2. Nice
3. London (lots)
3. Berlin
4. Victoria, BC
5. Marburg
6. Monterrey, Mexico
7. Tickfaw, LA (ten points if you know where this is!)
7 websites I love:
1. The New Yorker's website www.newyorker.com
2. Prairie Home Companion www.prairiehome.publicradio.org
3. The New York Times www.nytimes.com
4. The Weather Channel www.weather.com
5. New Orleans www.nola.com
6. Trinity Boston www.trinityboston.org
7. Southern Miss (gotta keep up with the old digs) www.usm.edu
I tag: Drew, Stacey (that's twice for you kids), Emily, Casey, Sheralyn and Rebecca (if they're keeping up)
Monday, October 03, 2005
Starbucks and the New Yorker
This is why I am a closet yuppie.
Not only did I get on the train this morning holding a fresh latte made by the lovely folks at the train station Starbucks, but I read the New Yorker the whole way while listening to The Last Five Years on my minidisc player. I realize that having an MD player makes me a little behind on the technology revolution, but it allows me to record my voice lessons without dragging around a tape recorder or purchasing the very expensive attachment for the iPod, a gadget I am still reluctant to purchase.
I love the New Yorker. I'm finishing up the food issue from a few weeks ago - my daily commute now leaves me about an hour a day to sit and read whatever I please and that's just about the best thing ever. For the first time in my life, I can read in a moving vehicle, drink my coffee, and not get honked at or motion sick.
And the New Yorker does funny cartoon drawings of George Bush that make him resemble one of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. Which really, he is. But I think the monkeys had more personality. *sigh*
Going to dance class, then acting. Have a dress rehearsal tonight for our scenes program tomorrow night. Mom and Dad are back from Natchitoches, seeing the brother, with newly purchased underwear and clothes.
When people, in casual conversation, as me where I'm from, I am now reluctant to say "New Orleans" because the inevitable piteous looks and inquisitive comments follow. Even the Starbucks girl this morning, after checking my ID against my debit card, asked if I had family in New Orleans. I was chatting with a co-worker at my church job the other day and sharing my most recent conquest against capitalism - the victorious low hotel rate for the wedding. She asked me if I had to "play the New Orleans card."
I am not a victim in the direct sense of the word. My things were not taken from me by a natural disaster, the domicile in which I live was not under four feet of water, but I would be in denial to say that my family has not been affected and that I have undergone tremendous stress as a result of coordinating my familial whereabouts with one another and generating lists of replacement values for my mom via patchy telephone connections. I do not share this information with every random acquaintance who asks me where I'm from - though I suppose by posting it on my blog I am sharing it with random strangers. These days, I'm inclined to say "Indiana" just to avoid the conversation.
I don't want pity from strangers. I don't want special treatment. When I seek comfort, it's from my friends and my fiancee who share the same grief that I do about the destruction of our favorite place. So why did it strike some very offensive chord in me that this girl asked me if I "played the New Orleans card?"
Still thinking, must go to class.
Not only did I get on the train this morning holding a fresh latte made by the lovely folks at the train station Starbucks, but I read the New Yorker the whole way while listening to The Last Five Years on my minidisc player. I realize that having an MD player makes me a little behind on the technology revolution, but it allows me to record my voice lessons without dragging around a tape recorder or purchasing the very expensive attachment for the iPod, a gadget I am still reluctant to purchase.
I love the New Yorker. I'm finishing up the food issue from a few weeks ago - my daily commute now leaves me about an hour a day to sit and read whatever I please and that's just about the best thing ever. For the first time in my life, I can read in a moving vehicle, drink my coffee, and not get honked at or motion sick.
And the New Yorker does funny cartoon drawings of George Bush that make him resemble one of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. Which really, he is. But I think the monkeys had more personality. *sigh*
Going to dance class, then acting. Have a dress rehearsal tonight for our scenes program tomorrow night. Mom and Dad are back from Natchitoches, seeing the brother, with newly purchased underwear and clothes.
When people, in casual conversation, as me where I'm from, I am now reluctant to say "New Orleans" because the inevitable piteous looks and inquisitive comments follow. Even the Starbucks girl this morning, after checking my ID against my debit card, asked if I had family in New Orleans. I was chatting with a co-worker at my church job the other day and sharing my most recent conquest against capitalism - the victorious low hotel rate for the wedding. She asked me if I had to "play the New Orleans card."
I am not a victim in the direct sense of the word. My things were not taken from me by a natural disaster, the domicile in which I live was not under four feet of water, but I would be in denial to say that my family has not been affected and that I have undergone tremendous stress as a result of coordinating my familial whereabouts with one another and generating lists of replacement values for my mom via patchy telephone connections. I do not share this information with every random acquaintance who asks me where I'm from - though I suppose by posting it on my blog I am sharing it with random strangers. These days, I'm inclined to say "Indiana" just to avoid the conversation.
I don't want pity from strangers. I don't want special treatment. When I seek comfort, it's from my friends and my fiancee who share the same grief that I do about the destruction of our favorite place. So why did it strike some very offensive chord in me that this girl asked me if I "played the New Orleans card?"
Still thinking, must go to class.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Raining
It's pouring outside. I found this out the hard way, by having to leave Filene's (desperately in search of a dress to wear for the Marilyn Horne master class at Juilliard) in the midst of the torrential downpour, of course without an umbrella.
What do you do when it's raining outside? I prefer to stay in with a huge book and a mug of tea. I finally purchased (Tuesday) and finished (Wednesday) the new Harry Potter book and I have to say that they just keep getting better. Anyone who needs an idea about a wedding present for me can put any of the British edition Harry Potter books on the list - I can't believe I actually gave mine to the charity shop when I left England. Of all the things I could have left behind....sigh.
The familial units are doing better. Mom and Pop are moving in with their crazy friends Peter and Barbara. I don't know how well this is going to work as both of my parents are type A+ and PBJ (peter and barbara jean) are whatever the opposite of type A is - but I keep telling mom, it's better than living on the concrete floors with no sinks in the house and seeing through the walls, I know Peter and Barb don't clean the way you do, but it's a house with beds and showers and things like a fridge so you don't have to live out of the ice chest and it's only for a few months *yes, I did say MONTHS* until the builders say you can go back to the house.
One step at a time. Deep breathing. Going to Starbucks.
What do you do when it's raining outside? I prefer to stay in with a huge book and a mug of tea. I finally purchased (Tuesday) and finished (Wednesday) the new Harry Potter book and I have to say that they just keep getting better. Anyone who needs an idea about a wedding present for me can put any of the British edition Harry Potter books on the list - I can't believe I actually gave mine to the charity shop when I left England. Of all the things I could have left behind....sigh.
The familial units are doing better. Mom and Pop are moving in with their crazy friends Peter and Barbara. I don't know how well this is going to work as both of my parents are type A+ and PBJ (peter and barbara jean) are whatever the opposite of type A is - but I keep telling mom, it's better than living on the concrete floors with no sinks in the house and seeing through the walls, I know Peter and Barb don't clean the way you do, but it's a house with beds and showers and things like a fridge so you don't have to live out of the ice chest and it's only for a few months *yes, I did say MONTHS* until the builders say you can go back to the house.
One step at a time. Deep breathing. Going to Starbucks.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
fun with makeup
Today is my stage makeup class. There are few things that make me laugh more than stage makeup, largely because you end up looking like a painted doll with the false eyelashes and such, and then you get to take it all off and paint up as another character. And anyone who's never had on false eyelashes is truly missing out - I told the fiancee that if he's not careful, I'm going to get the Halloween eyelashes with the pieces of shiny tinsel mixed in and wear them on our wedding day, just for amusement purposes. Mischief mischief.
In other news, my parents are getting royally screwed by State Farm. Everything over 20 years old is considered 'valueless' in the eyes of flood insurance, all things antique are excluded from the policy, and everything else is depreciated for time. So after all of this bullshit and paying premiums for the last nearly twenty years, they will be lucky to go to IKEA and purchase an endtable and a bean bag chair. Crank up your typing fingers ladies, I smell another letter-writing campaign coming on.
I asked the fiancee the other night if he thought we would ever be able to fulfill our dream of moving back to the city, taking our kids to City Park to feed the ducks, sitting on my grandmother's porch in Metairie the way we always wanted to.
He said that we would be able to, in time, and that hopefully the city will become a better version of its former self, safer, cleaner, better protected. It just hurts my heart to think about not being able to go home for a year, two years, and then seeing the remains of what was my favorite city.
Pray hard y'all, I don't trust Rita, sitting out there waiting to strike.
In other news, my parents are getting royally screwed by State Farm. Everything over 20 years old is considered 'valueless' in the eyes of flood insurance, all things antique are excluded from the policy, and everything else is depreciated for time. So after all of this bullshit and paying premiums for the last nearly twenty years, they will be lucky to go to IKEA and purchase an endtable and a bean bag chair. Crank up your typing fingers ladies, I smell another letter-writing campaign coming on.
I asked the fiancee the other night if he thought we would ever be able to fulfill our dream of moving back to the city, taking our kids to City Park to feed the ducks, sitting on my grandmother's porch in Metairie the way we always wanted to.
He said that we would be able to, in time, and that hopefully the city will become a better version of its former self, safer, cleaner, better protected. It just hurts my heart to think about not being able to go home for a year, two years, and then seeing the remains of what was my favorite city.
Pray hard y'all, I don't trust Rita, sitting out there waiting to strike.
Monday, September 19, 2005
One great hour of levity
Just got out of my acting class to find that I've been tagged. I don't know exactly what this means, but I think it means that Stacey wants me to do this little online "whatcha know whatcha don't know" thing. So here goes.
7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Sing on the stage of a major opera house
2. Swim with dolphins
3. Rebuild my mother's photo collection
4. Grow out my hair and donate it
5. Become fluent in German
6. Have and/or adopt children
7. Live in New Orleans with my family
7 things I can do
1. Sing in French, German, Italian and English convincingly
2. Make pies, cakes, cookies, pralines
3. Walk in funny shoes
4. Process medical insurance
5. Argue any price lower than it should be
6. Fall asleep anywhere
7. Peel shrimp and crawfish without instructions
7 things I cannot do
1. Play tennis, softball, or any sport involving a racket or bat
2. Touch cats without sneezing
3. Argue with my mother and feel okay about it
4. Sing mezzo pants roles
5. Cook normal food
6. Sit next to smokers and not intentionally (and sometimes unintentionally) cough
7. Eat take-out chinese
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex
1. A good vocabulary
2. A good sense of humor
3. Love handles, general cuddlyness
4. A good smile
5. Patience
6. Wit
7. Mischief
7 things I say most often
1. I know
2. HI-larious
3. I'm late for the train
4. Word (to your proverbial mother)
5. SAM!
6. Are we out of ice cream?
7. What's for dinner?
7 celebrity crushes
1. Harry Connick Jr. (like Stacey, since I was old enough to hear him sing)
2. Roberto Alagna
3. Colin Firth
4. Kevin Kline
5. My opera teacher (he's sort of a celebrity, very gay and unattainable)
6. David Letterman
7. Wayne Brady
7 people I want to do this:
1. Cristi
2. Drew
3. Alex (If he read my blog....I don't even think he believes in blogs)
4. Armand
5. eMac
6. Casey
7. Leontyne Price
7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Sing on the stage of a major opera house
2. Swim with dolphins
3. Rebuild my mother's photo collection
4. Grow out my hair and donate it
5. Become fluent in German
6. Have and/or adopt children
7. Live in New Orleans with my family
7 things I can do
1. Sing in French, German, Italian and English convincingly
2. Make pies, cakes, cookies, pralines
3. Walk in funny shoes
4. Process medical insurance
5. Argue any price lower than it should be
6. Fall asleep anywhere
7. Peel shrimp and crawfish without instructions
7 things I cannot do
1. Play tennis, softball, or any sport involving a racket or bat
2. Touch cats without sneezing
3. Argue with my mother and feel okay about it
4. Sing mezzo pants roles
5. Cook normal food
6. Sit next to smokers and not intentionally (and sometimes unintentionally) cough
7. Eat take-out chinese
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex
1. A good vocabulary
2. A good sense of humor
3. Love handles, general cuddlyness
4. A good smile
5. Patience
6. Wit
7. Mischief
7 things I say most often
1. I know
2. HI-larious
3. I'm late for the train
4. Word (to your proverbial mother)
5. SAM!
6. Are we out of ice cream?
7. What's for dinner?
7 celebrity crushes
1. Harry Connick Jr. (like Stacey, since I was old enough to hear him sing)
2. Roberto Alagna
3. Colin Firth
4. Kevin Kline
5. My opera teacher (he's sort of a celebrity, very gay and unattainable)
6. David Letterman
7. Wayne Brady
7 people I want to do this:
1. Cristi
2. Drew
3. Alex (If he read my blog....I don't even think he believes in blogs)
4. Armand
5. eMac
6. Casey
7. Leontyne Price
Saturday, September 17, 2005
goodnight moon
Goodnight moon, a staple of my childhood, was among the books in a large box sitting in the bottom of our hall closet in the old house. Along with Runaway Bunny, Charlotte's Web, and the favorite out of print Acorn Magic Readers, which I have no doubt were instrumental in the development of my reading skills, my father's copy of Stuart Little was also destroyed.
Tomorrow is my brother's birthday. He will be 17 and he will spend it in the dorm with his friends and a cake that he ordered himself from Wal-Mart. My mother and father are sleeping on an airbed in the shell of their house waiting for the insurance adjustor to show up on Monday morning so they can discuss the value of what used to be our home. Mom and I spent two hours on the phone tonight, me on the internet, searching for replacement values of furniture purchased thirty years ago, a desk my father has owned since childhood, piano music I learned when I was six.
I'm not even there, and I feel so incredibly depressed I can't even breathe. I don't know how they are even there, seeing the house every day, remembering the former life that we had, sighing and throwing away piles of soggy photos that chronicled our lives, the birth of my brother, graduations, family trips, surly looks from my teenaged face, generational photos with my grandmother and great-grandmother.
The brother is nonchalant about his birthday. He mentions only that there is a stupid girl who has wronged him in some fashion which he refuses to enumerate and tells me to "chill out" because he's handling it.
I want to go home.
Tomorrow is my brother's birthday. He will be 17 and he will spend it in the dorm with his friends and a cake that he ordered himself from Wal-Mart. My mother and father are sleeping on an airbed in the shell of their house waiting for the insurance adjustor to show up on Monday morning so they can discuss the value of what used to be our home. Mom and I spent two hours on the phone tonight, me on the internet, searching for replacement values of furniture purchased thirty years ago, a desk my father has owned since childhood, piano music I learned when I was six.
I'm not even there, and I feel so incredibly depressed I can't even breathe. I don't know how they are even there, seeing the house every day, remembering the former life that we had, sighing and throwing away piles of soggy photos that chronicled our lives, the birth of my brother, graduations, family trips, surly looks from my teenaged face, generational photos with my grandmother and great-grandmother.
The brother is nonchalant about his birthday. He mentions only that there is a stupid girl who has wronged him in some fashion which he refuses to enumerate and tells me to "chill out" because he's handling it.
I want to go home.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Sleepless in Seattle
You know that part in Sleepless in Seattle where Meg Ryan and Bill Pullman are getting ready for bed and he's got the humidifier and the nasal spray and the Kleenex dangling from his nose?
That's what I look like. I had an allergy attack sometime on Sunday and, true to form, it's turning into a full-blown cold. And yes, I do have kleenes dangling from my nose. I've reached the point where the skin on my nose is so red from the rubbing and dabbing and nose-blowing and my ears pop every time I yawn.
The fiancee has been very sweet, tucking me up on the couch and bringing me tea and such. He even vacuumed the house yesterday because I was too tired. Sweet man.
And for those of you who don't know, Trinity Church (the link to the right) has agreed to host our wedding, nice people that they are. Mile and a half of aisle, here I come!
Once I can breathe through my nose again, that is. Why oh why must I have allergies?!
The folks are doing better. There is now electricity running to the house, even if there are no walls or appliances. But at least it means they can go there in the evening and turn on the lights. I think. I just hope that the house begins to look more like a house soon - mom's getting edgy sleeping on the hospital floor.
My family is so blessed. Not only did they have a safe, clean, dry and secure place to stay during the hurricane, they had cooked food to eat, and a host of people around them who were in the same boat. No one suffered any physical harm, and though it seems that my once totally New Orleans-based family is going to have to scatter for a while until houses and jobs return to normal, everyone is safe and accounted for. I saw a story on the news about these parents who put their two children on a rescue helicopter - ages 6 and 2, I believe. The parents ended up at the Astrodome. The children ended up as part of a "children's troop" led by the 6 year old, walking down Causeway boulevard with a bunch of other children who were otherwise unsupervised. All's well that ends well, but how would you feel if you had to put your children on a helicopter just to get them out of the water and then hope for the best? The damage done to lives and families is not over. It's not over just because Bush took responsibility (which I'll address at a later time) and Michael Brown resigned. It's not over because the rain stopped. And it won't be over until all of the people displaced have buried their dead, cleaned out their houses, hopefully put their houses back together, and several sets of birthdays and holidays have passed. And even then, it won't be the same.
I miss my home.
That's what I look like. I had an allergy attack sometime on Sunday and, true to form, it's turning into a full-blown cold. And yes, I do have kleenes dangling from my nose. I've reached the point where the skin on my nose is so red from the rubbing and dabbing and nose-blowing and my ears pop every time I yawn.
The fiancee has been very sweet, tucking me up on the couch and bringing me tea and such. He even vacuumed the house yesterday because I was too tired. Sweet man.
And for those of you who don't know, Trinity Church (the link to the right) has agreed to host our wedding, nice people that they are. Mile and a half of aisle, here I come!
Once I can breathe through my nose again, that is. Why oh why must I have allergies?!
The folks are doing better. There is now electricity running to the house, even if there are no walls or appliances. But at least it means they can go there in the evening and turn on the lights. I think. I just hope that the house begins to look more like a house soon - mom's getting edgy sleeping on the hospital floor.
My family is so blessed. Not only did they have a safe, clean, dry and secure place to stay during the hurricane, they had cooked food to eat, and a host of people around them who were in the same boat. No one suffered any physical harm, and though it seems that my once totally New Orleans-based family is going to have to scatter for a while until houses and jobs return to normal, everyone is safe and accounted for. I saw a story on the news about these parents who put their two children on a rescue helicopter - ages 6 and 2, I believe. The parents ended up at the Astrodome. The children ended up as part of a "children's troop" led by the 6 year old, walking down Causeway boulevard with a bunch of other children who were otherwise unsupervised. All's well that ends well, but how would you feel if you had to put your children on a helicopter just to get them out of the water and then hope for the best? The damage done to lives and families is not over. It's not over just because Bush took responsibility (which I'll address at a later time) and Michael Brown resigned. It's not over because the rain stopped. And it won't be over until all of the people displaced have buried their dead, cleaned out their houses, hopefully put their houses back together, and several sets of birthdays and holidays have passed. And even then, it won't be the same.
I miss my home.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Prosaic anger
So here's the question of the day: Was Michael Brown removed as the on-site director of hurricane relief because he's a blithering idiot and now the entire Western Hemisphere knows it, or because they didn't find as many bodies as they thought?
Talk amongst yourselves.
I'll go ahead and give Bush a few props for getting the aid bill taken care of quickly. He is taken off of the nasty letter list for today. Spoke to the mother today - she was sitting on the concrete slab in the house going through the disaster of pictures. My mother's organization system for pictures was not highly advanced and it usually involved her throwing everything into the bottom drawer of the bookcase in the living room. This means that everything in that drawer, including vacation photos, family pictures, childhood birthdays, etc, is stuck together and mildewing as we speak. Now those of you who know Miss Jean know that she is the pillar of strength. The rock of ages, as it were. And when Miss Jean sits there and cries on the phone with me about how her wedding photos are unrecognizable, something's got to be done.
A few days ago, Stacey wrote me about some Arschlog who thought it would be a good idea to trash New Orleans on an advice blog. I believe he actually referred to it as a "craphole" and one of the least beautiful cities he's ever visited. What I want to know is where people get off trashing my hometown. Even if you're from French Lick, Indiana you have some pride about your hometown. You have attachments to the places you went when you were a kid - can we say Old Town Soda Shop - and even if you don't live there anymore, there is a lingering sense of belonging. If I had to go back to Slidell, I know that I could be okay there. It's home, in a sense, and that's non-transferable. You can't touch that, and for someone to suggest that not only does New Orleans suck (where does he live, under a rock?) but that it's not worth rebuilding is like forsaking the last two hundred years of culture and history and saying it doesn't matter because I have my Ipod.
These are the people who should be pulling bodies out of the water and cleaning up the oil leaks in St. Bernard Parish because they are obviously a waste of oxygen. Somewhere, an asthmatic is gasping for air because this piece of processed meat is breathing and spewing his poisonous opinions.
Call your mother, tell her you love her. Send her some nice peppermint foot cream and a gift certificate for a pedicure. And if you see Miss Jean before I do, kiss her face.
Talk amongst yourselves.
I'll go ahead and give Bush a few props for getting the aid bill taken care of quickly. He is taken off of the nasty letter list for today. Spoke to the mother today - she was sitting on the concrete slab in the house going through the disaster of pictures. My mother's organization system for pictures was not highly advanced and it usually involved her throwing everything into the bottom drawer of the bookcase in the living room. This means that everything in that drawer, including vacation photos, family pictures, childhood birthdays, etc, is stuck together and mildewing as we speak. Now those of you who know Miss Jean know that she is the pillar of strength. The rock of ages, as it were. And when Miss Jean sits there and cries on the phone with me about how her wedding photos are unrecognizable, something's got to be done.
A few days ago, Stacey wrote me about some Arschlog who thought it would be a good idea to trash New Orleans on an advice blog. I believe he actually referred to it as a "craphole" and one of the least beautiful cities he's ever visited. What I want to know is where people get off trashing my hometown. Even if you're from French Lick, Indiana you have some pride about your hometown. You have attachments to the places you went when you were a kid - can we say Old Town Soda Shop - and even if you don't live there anymore, there is a lingering sense of belonging. If I had to go back to Slidell, I know that I could be okay there. It's home, in a sense, and that's non-transferable. You can't touch that, and for someone to suggest that not only does New Orleans suck (where does he live, under a rock?) but that it's not worth rebuilding is like forsaking the last two hundred years of culture and history and saying it doesn't matter because I have my Ipod.
These are the people who should be pulling bodies out of the water and cleaning up the oil leaks in St. Bernard Parish because they are obviously a waste of oxygen. Somewhere, an asthmatic is gasping for air because this piece of processed meat is breathing and spewing his poisonous opinions.
Call your mother, tell her you love her. Send her some nice peppermint foot cream and a gift certificate for a pedicure. And if you see Miss Jean before I do, kiss her face.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Near catastrophic events
Why Michael Brown actually IS as dumb as he looks
What, by definition, is a catastrophe?
Dictionary.com says catastrophe is:
1. A great, often sudden calamity.
2. A complete failure; a fiasco
3. The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy, following the climax and containing a resolution of the plot.
4. A sudden violent change in the earth's surface; a cataclysm.
What, in the realm of all things plausible and implausible, led FEMA Director Michael Brown to characterize the wake of the hurricane as "near catastrophic events," pray tell? Was it the part where the storm was a Category 5? Or the part where, despite a mandatory evacuation, large quantites of people were still stuck on the interstate? Or was it the storm surge that threatened to put New Orleans under water? Do these strike anyone as "near catastrophic" events, or is that someone's guilty conscience trying to downplay the fact that they dropped the ball.
In that case, since the hurricane was not actually a catastrophe, I will then elaborate on what seems to be the real catastrophe, as described so succintly by the dictionary.
See definition two: a complete failure, a fiasco. The cluster f*ck that was federal response
See definition three: The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy. What will happen when the people of New Orleans descend upon Michael Brown and go Greek on his ass - you want to sell us out? You only THINK Agamemnon had it bad. And all he did was sacrifice his daughter.
You want this to just be a near catastrophe, Michael Brown? It's about to get a hell of a lot more near than you'd like.
What, by definition, is a catastrophe?
Dictionary.com says catastrophe is:
1. A great, often sudden calamity.
2. A complete failure; a fiasco
3. The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy, following the climax and containing a resolution of the plot.
4. A sudden violent change in the earth's surface; a cataclysm.
What, in the realm of all things plausible and implausible, led FEMA Director Michael Brown to characterize the wake of the hurricane as "near catastrophic events," pray tell? Was it the part where the storm was a Category 5? Or the part where, despite a mandatory evacuation, large quantites of people were still stuck on the interstate? Or was it the storm surge that threatened to put New Orleans under water? Do these strike anyone as "near catastrophic" events, or is that someone's guilty conscience trying to downplay the fact that they dropped the ball.
In that case, since the hurricane was not actually a catastrophe, I will then elaborate on what seems to be the real catastrophe, as described so succintly by the dictionary.
See definition two: a complete failure, a fiasco. The cluster f*ck that was federal response
See definition three: The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy. What will happen when the people of New Orleans descend upon Michael Brown and go Greek on his ass - you want to sell us out? You only THINK Agamemnon had it bad. And all he did was sacrifice his daughter.
You want this to just be a near catastrophe, Michael Brown? It's about to get a hell of a lot more near than you'd like.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Someone else who's on the nasty letter list
Just got this link from Stacey:
Don't Blame Bush
Now I'm not going to say this is all Bush's fault. This may strike some of my readers as odd, because on most issues I'm not a W fan, but I'll say that he's getting on the ball. He was not on the ball, and why FEMA waited for an engraved invitation (because you were obviously on holiday in Tuscany without television and unaware, if the executives of FEMA would be so kind as to send in relief, the people of New Orleans would be most grateful. You see, while you were sipping your Mai Tai, that Category 5 just snuck up on us...) to show up and do their f-ing jobs is beyond me, but the man is trying to make things right.
That being said, Christopher Ruddy has just added himself to my nasty letter list. Read the article - he's a few steps shy of being a sadist. Sure, I'm convinced that the Louisiana State officials could have taken care of themselves and would have not required federal help.
IF:
1. the phone lines in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
2. the power in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
3. the city of New Orleans had not been under water
4. the good Witch of the North had showed up with her magic f*cking wand and made it all right
What's that? You can't help yourself? You mean you weren't completely prepared for a Category 5 hurricane? Obviously you're sleeping on the job, Mayor Nagin. I can't even believe this kind of shit gets published.
Ruddy says, "Common sense suggests that local and state governments are best able to prepare and plan for local disasters." Well that's all good and fine mister, but when your resources are UNDER WATER you're kind of at a disadvantage. We'll remember that the next time your house is on fire.
Who are these soul-less bastards? And how do they sleep at night, I want to know.
The Today Show has already received two nasty emails about Campbell Brown, that turncoat hosebag who tried to point the finger at Ray Nagin on television. Yeah, real smooth there Campbell - point the finger at the mayor of New Orleans who's been down there pulling bodies out of the water. I'm sorry, what were you doing? Getting a pedicure? Going to your Pilates class? Doing the Times crossword? Don't even try to hold that candle to Ray Nagin honey, your cheap suit will catch on fire and it will take FEMA a week to get to your charred ass.
What happened to the sense of humanity? To reach out and help your neighbor? To help and protect those less fortunate? Why should the poor, sick and elderly be allowed to participate in social cleansing because no one feels like it's their responsibility to help? IT'S JUST WRONG. You don't wait for a city in need to ask for help. No one waited for the citizens of New York to say, "Excuse us, but could someone please send help? Lunatics have crashed planes into the World Trade Center." Why should this be any different? We even saw it coming.
And I'm not talking about Christian sentiment here. This is a sentiment that supercedes all lines of organized religion. This is a sentiment that says, "If I'm in serious trouble, someone will have the decency to reach out and help me."
As my beloved would say from time to time, "F*ck you, nasty letter to follow."
And my nasty letters only get nastier when I don't get a response.
Don't Blame Bush
Now I'm not going to say this is all Bush's fault. This may strike some of my readers as odd, because on most issues I'm not a W fan, but I'll say that he's getting on the ball. He was not on the ball, and why FEMA waited for an engraved invitation (because you were obviously on holiday in Tuscany without television and unaware, if the executives of FEMA would be so kind as to send in relief, the people of New Orleans would be most grateful. You see, while you were sipping your Mai Tai, that Category 5 just snuck up on us...) to show up and do their f-ing jobs is beyond me, but the man is trying to make things right.
That being said, Christopher Ruddy has just added himself to my nasty letter list. Read the article - he's a few steps shy of being a sadist. Sure, I'm convinced that the Louisiana State officials could have taken care of themselves and would have not required federal help.
IF:
1. the phone lines in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
2. the power in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
3. the city of New Orleans had not been under water
4. the good Witch of the North had showed up with her magic f*cking wand and made it all right
What's that? You can't help yourself? You mean you weren't completely prepared for a Category 5 hurricane? Obviously you're sleeping on the job, Mayor Nagin. I can't even believe this kind of shit gets published.
Ruddy says, "Common sense suggests that local and state governments are best able to prepare and plan for local disasters." Well that's all good and fine mister, but when your resources are UNDER WATER you're kind of at a disadvantage. We'll remember that the next time your house is on fire.
Who are these soul-less bastards? And how do they sleep at night, I want to know.
The Today Show has already received two nasty emails about Campbell Brown, that turncoat hosebag who tried to point the finger at Ray Nagin on television. Yeah, real smooth there Campbell - point the finger at the mayor of New Orleans who's been down there pulling bodies out of the water. I'm sorry, what were you doing? Getting a pedicure? Going to your Pilates class? Doing the Times crossword? Don't even try to hold that candle to Ray Nagin honey, your cheap suit will catch on fire and it will take FEMA a week to get to your charred ass.
What happened to the sense of humanity? To reach out and help your neighbor? To help and protect those less fortunate? Why should the poor, sick and elderly be allowed to participate in social cleansing because no one feels like it's their responsibility to help? IT'S JUST WRONG. You don't wait for a city in need to ask for help. No one waited for the citizens of New York to say, "Excuse us, but could someone please send help? Lunatics have crashed planes into the World Trade Center." Why should this be any different? We even saw it coming.
And I'm not talking about Christian sentiment here. This is a sentiment that supercedes all lines of organized religion. This is a sentiment that says, "If I'm in serious trouble, someone will have the decency to reach out and help me."
As my beloved would say from time to time, "F*ck you, nasty letter to follow."
And my nasty letters only get nastier when I don't get a response.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Damn Yankees
Okay, I am officially furious. I watched this interview on MSNBC.com between Mayor Ray Nagin and Campbell Brown:
The help did not come
Click the link, and scroll down to the "More Katrina Videos" section to the interview of the above name.
I already sent one scathing email to the Today Show blasting them for having such a moron as Campbell Brown covering this event when she PLAINLY has no idea what she is talking about, but have also sent a group email to my friends with the link.
Watch the interview. I especially like the part where she asks him, and I'm quoting,
"Well Mr. Mayor, why didn't you do anything? You're the mayor of the city...Don't you bear some responsibility for what's happened here?"
Well Campbell Brown, why didn't YOU do anything. Why didn't YOU go down to the ninth ward and knock on doors and tell people to leave the city. Why didn't YOU volunteer for the Red Cross and donate your salary to the Hurricane Relief? And HOW DARE YOU stand in judgment over Ray Nagin when you have not been there since day one, when you have not stood alongside him and pulled bodies out of the water and smelled the stench of flesh and human waste inside the Superdome.
It's so easy to sit back in your New York office and look at New Orleans and say "Those people should have gotten themselves out of the city. They should have gotten out when they had the time. It's their own fault." And that is the response of anyone who has never set foot in New Orleans, or tried to drive out of it during a hurricane evacuation. Yes, contraflow was a good idea, but when it only goes as far as Baton Rouge, all it does is create a giant traffic jam in the middle of the city of Baton Rouge. I suppose the theory is that BR is far enough inland to be safe but sorry people, BR is NOT big enough to house every person who lives in the greater New Orleans area last time I checked.
Unmitigated ignorance, audacity, and sheer gall. When I get Campbell Brown's address I'm going to write her a personal letter and ask her if she feels she's done enough now. If she feels it's enough to go on television and point the finger at the Mayor of New Orleans. I don't see her pulling out her carpet knife and going house to house helping people. I don't see her feeding the refugees or offering up her house to house them. She should just go ahead and donate her salary now because that would be the only worthwhile thing she could possibly do to redeem her status from a soul-less damn Yankee.
Take your f*cking carpetbag and go back up North, drink your mochaccino and think you're superior. Don't come back, we don't want your kind around to suck up the oxygen. Bottom feeder.
The help did not come
Click the link, and scroll down to the "More Katrina Videos" section to the interview of the above name.
I already sent one scathing email to the Today Show blasting them for having such a moron as Campbell Brown covering this event when she PLAINLY has no idea what she is talking about, but have also sent a group email to my friends with the link.
Watch the interview. I especially like the part where she asks him, and I'm quoting,
"Well Mr. Mayor, why didn't you do anything? You're the mayor of the city...Don't you bear some responsibility for what's happened here?"
Well Campbell Brown, why didn't YOU do anything. Why didn't YOU go down to the ninth ward and knock on doors and tell people to leave the city. Why didn't YOU volunteer for the Red Cross and donate your salary to the Hurricane Relief? And HOW DARE YOU stand in judgment over Ray Nagin when you have not been there since day one, when you have not stood alongside him and pulled bodies out of the water and smelled the stench of flesh and human waste inside the Superdome.
It's so easy to sit back in your New York office and look at New Orleans and say "Those people should have gotten themselves out of the city. They should have gotten out when they had the time. It's their own fault." And that is the response of anyone who has never set foot in New Orleans, or tried to drive out of it during a hurricane evacuation. Yes, contraflow was a good idea, but when it only goes as far as Baton Rouge, all it does is create a giant traffic jam in the middle of the city of Baton Rouge. I suppose the theory is that BR is far enough inland to be safe but sorry people, BR is NOT big enough to house every person who lives in the greater New Orleans area last time I checked.
Unmitigated ignorance, audacity, and sheer gall. When I get Campbell Brown's address I'm going to write her a personal letter and ask her if she feels she's done enough now. If she feels it's enough to go on television and point the finger at the Mayor of New Orleans. I don't see her pulling out her carpet knife and going house to house helping people. I don't see her feeding the refugees or offering up her house to house them. She should just go ahead and donate her salary now because that would be the only worthwhile thing she could possibly do to redeem her status from a soul-less damn Yankee.
Take your f*cking carpetbag and go back up North, drink your mochaccino and think you're superior. Don't come back, we don't want your kind around to suck up the oxygen. Bottom feeder.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Do you know what it means?
Okay, I have finally reached my breaking point. DP talked about not being able to cry, feeling dammed up inside and not knowing when it was going to give way. Tonight was my undoing. It's bad enough that everywhere I turn on the T, someone is reading a copy of the Boston Globe with the giant pictures of my beloved city in ruin and the headling "DESTRUCTION" screaming out at me, but tonight when NBC aired their hurricane relief concert, not only was I subjected to Aaron Neville, but Harry Connick Jr. went on TV and sang "Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?"
Now I have a little speech that I give to foreigners about how to pronounce the name of my hometown. And one is only allowed to say "New Orleens" when singing the aforementioned song. And I have to say that I bawled like a baby.
The whole city is hurting. And I'm hurting with it.
Now I have a little speech that I give to foreigners about how to pronounce the name of my hometown. And one is only allowed to say "New Orleens" when singing the aforementioned song. And I have to say that I bawled like a baby.
The whole city is hurting. And I'm hurting with it.
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