5.24.2008
5.19.2008
that's the way the cookie crumbles
"one of the side effects of work on the heart of gold was a whole string of pretty meaningless coincidences."
how true.
how true.
how true.
how true.
5.11.2008
blood donation: pretty badass until band-aid removal
yesterday i got stabbed in an RV on the side of the road.
actually, i gave blood in a mobile donation van parked curbside on roscoe. not as exciting as the first, but maybe a bit more sanitary.
i like giving blood. it makes me feel justified in refusing to give money to people that hang around outside the chicago red line stop each morning. no, i will not give you $.50 and you can call me a bitch for it, but if you were to get stabbed in an RV on the side of the road, my blood might be there for you. how's that for an altruistic look at life?
the most painful part of blood donation is the finger prick, which they administer to check iron levels. after a second test, i was allowed to donate because my iron came in just above the 12.6 requirement at 12.9. i'm guessing this is the main reason as to why i came close to passing out in my chair. the woman comes up to me and says,
you're almost done, how do you feel?
good.
--30 seconds later--
do you have any water? i'm really hot.
do you think you're going to throw up?
maybe.
then i closed my eyes or they closed for me, and tried to keep my breakfast inside while ignoring the sweat rolling down my back. at this point one woman is pulling the needle out of my arm while another nurse is putting two ice packs on my neck and chest. i drink some water and pull back from the edge of the black twinkly world of which i'd glimpsed. ten minutes later i was eating some animal cookies and walking back home. i napped hard core for a good two hours.
a friend called asking me to go out, and since it'd been the prescribed 4-6 hours with my band-aid on, i decided to remove it. come to find out, the nurse had put not only a band-aid on but also a folded sheet of gauze secured by about 7" of surgical tape that nearly wrapped all the way around my arm. i attempted to tear it off but couldn't do it myself. i went to my roommate who boldly took on the task.
woah, are you okay? you're not going to pass out on me, are you?
no, i'm fine. let's do this. just make it quick.
--insert sound of surgical adhesive ripped away from stretch skin--
ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. god! that hurt.
are you ready for the next one?
yes, go. fast.
--insert sound of fine, delicate arm hair torn from soft skin--
ahhhhhhhhhh.
i was left with an attractive stripe of red, swollen, hairless skin where said bandage had been. it's surprising my vein didn't collapse at that point. then i took of the band-aid only to realize all the torment had caused the hole to start bleeding again, thus requiring a new band-aid.
now here i sit attempting to rip it off. my roommate is gone, so i'm going to have to suck it up.
or wait until she comes home. oh the cyclical nature of life.
actually, i gave blood in a mobile donation van parked curbside on roscoe. not as exciting as the first, but maybe a bit more sanitary.
i like giving blood. it makes me feel justified in refusing to give money to people that hang around outside the chicago red line stop each morning. no, i will not give you $.50 and you can call me a bitch for it, but if you were to get stabbed in an RV on the side of the road, my blood might be there for you. how's that for an altruistic look at life?
the most painful part of blood donation is the finger prick, which they administer to check iron levels. after a second test, i was allowed to donate because my iron came in just above the 12.6 requirement at 12.9. i'm guessing this is the main reason as to why i came close to passing out in my chair. the woman comes up to me and says,
you're almost done, how do you feel?
good.
--30 seconds later--
do you have any water? i'm really hot.
do you think you're going to throw up?
maybe.
then i closed my eyes or they closed for me, and tried to keep my breakfast inside while ignoring the sweat rolling down my back. at this point one woman is pulling the needle out of my arm while another nurse is putting two ice packs on my neck and chest. i drink some water and pull back from the edge of the black twinkly world of which i'd glimpsed. ten minutes later i was eating some animal cookies and walking back home. i napped hard core for a good two hours.
a friend called asking me to go out, and since it'd been the prescribed 4-6 hours with my band-aid on, i decided to remove it. come to find out, the nurse had put not only a band-aid on but also a folded sheet of gauze secured by about 7" of surgical tape that nearly wrapped all the way around my arm. i attempted to tear it off but couldn't do it myself. i went to my roommate who boldly took on the task.
woah, are you okay? you're not going to pass out on me, are you?
no, i'm fine. let's do this. just make it quick.
--insert sound of surgical adhesive ripped away from stretch skin--
ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. god! that hurt.
are you ready for the next one?
yes, go. fast.
--insert sound of fine, delicate arm hair torn from soft skin--
ahhhhhhhhhh.
i was left with an attractive stripe of red, swollen, hairless skin where said bandage had been. it's surprising my vein didn't collapse at that point. then i took of the band-aid only to realize all the torment had caused the hole to start bleeding again, thus requiring a new band-aid.
now here i sit attempting to rip it off. my roommate is gone, so i'm going to have to suck it up.
or wait until she comes home. oh the cyclical nature of life.
5.09.2008
shameless self-promotion is ok when there's no audience
for reasons nostalgic, vain, and sentimental, i wrote to a professor at the good old alma mater and asked if he might possibly dig through stacks of submitted goldman applications, find mine, and return it to its author. he agreed and in a marvel of not-so-modern technology it arrived in my postbox this day.
what's a goldman application you ask? well it's an application to apply for the joanna jackson goldman memorial prize, and this probably describes it best. last year, my 12 credit-hour schedule allowed me enough free time to find the above link and feel guilty enough about my slacker semester to decide to dream and write up a proposal. the process falls into the category "if i had known how much work this was going to be before, i would have never started it". but then again, that solved my developing under-achiever complex. be careful what you wish for, i suppose.
anyway, long story short, i applied, made it to the final round, sat through the scariest interview of my life to date, (i use the word "sat" intentionally. i fielded questions from 10 professors and 2 students for 45 minutes, which felt like eternity during the inquisition and like 4.5 nanoseconds upon its completion. when i exited the interview so did all my memories of the event. it was out of body. i like to stay in my body. it's comfortable there.), and (now back from the aside [and example of why i'm a proponent of the oxford comma]) i didn't get the prize. but the heroine of this story did learn many life lessons, explore herself, and form new relationships.
all this back story for what? simply to lead to more inane writing.
after opening up the package that contained my application, i skimmed through the little baby, and remembered about this gem.
going back to something you wrote months or years ago has the potential to frighten. does the fact that i didn't groan or roll my eyes when reading these posts mean i've developed as a writer? probably, it means i haven't developed at all as a person.
(who did win the prize you might be wondering? this girl. saving a language. big deal.)
what's a goldman application you ask? well it's an application to apply for the joanna jackson goldman memorial prize, and this probably describes it best. last year, my 12 credit-hour schedule allowed me enough free time to find the above link and feel guilty enough about my slacker semester to decide to dream and write up a proposal. the process falls into the category "if i had known how much work this was going to be before, i would have never started it". but then again, that solved my developing under-achiever complex. be careful what you wish for, i suppose.
anyway, long story short, i applied, made it to the final round, sat through the scariest interview of my life to date, (i use the word "sat" intentionally. i fielded questions from 10 professors and 2 students for 45 minutes, which felt like eternity during the inquisition and like 4.5 nanoseconds upon its completion. when i exited the interview so did all my memories of the event. it was out of body. i like to stay in my body. it's comfortable there.), and (now back from the aside [and example of why i'm a proponent of the oxford comma]) i didn't get the prize. but the heroine of this story did learn many life lessons, explore herself, and form new relationships.
all this back story for what? simply to lead to more inane writing.
after opening up the package that contained my application, i skimmed through the little baby, and remembered about this gem.
going back to something you wrote months or years ago has the potential to frighten. does the fact that i didn't groan or roll my eyes when reading these posts mean i've developed as a writer? probably, it means i haven't developed at all as a person.
(who did win the prize you might be wondering? this girl. saving a language. big deal.)
5.06.2008
a year ago today
one year ago i graduated from college.
i've survived my first year of post-undergraduate.
at times, it really did feel like survival, but those are the times. it's not that the past year went so fast or slow. yes, time did strange things like light speed through thrilling weeks with someone new only to expand infinitely through months of unemployment.
the startling part about the last year, however, wasn't the time but the events themselves. it is their striking contrast that makes the time since graduation inexplicable and difficult to capture.
like most opposites, the beginning and the end often act the same. i ended my time at miami by spending the last missing out on several hours of sleep getting to know someone amazing. i packed up four years and moved them home by myself on a two-day drive home.
i unpacked.
i packed for a six-week trip through europe with my best friend from college. we drove a rented stick-shift through crete at 6am, slept with a homeless woman in florence, bicycled through amsterdam. we did a stereotypical post-college tour of europe. while we had done something many others our age had done, and will do, we did it just a little differently because it was us doing it.
i flew to columbus to see friends.
i flew to chicago to find an apartment.
i flew to kansas city to unpack.
i packed for what, in many ways, would be the last family vacation of its kind. the three of us embarked on a two-week road trip of the west. i was fascinated by that which i had never seen before. it wasn't europe but it amazed me just as much. we spent time together as a family. we laughed. we drove each other a little nuts. we watched the landscape change and counted animals. we appreciated each other. we returned home in time for me to pack.
i moved to chicago.
i started a new job.
i met new friends.
i ran into a guy.
i worked trade shows.
i quit the job.
i searched for new employment.
i explored the city.
i volunteered as a tutor.
i went to concerts.
i offered parts of myself.
i ate brunch.
i felt optimistic.
i interviewed.
i felt rejected.
i felt defeated.
i cried.
i ached.
i received a phone call.
i worried.
i stressed.
i gave up.
i received another phone call.
i celebrated.
i worked.
i grew.
i decided.
i reflected.
i don't think i can articulate the next part without sounding like the moral of the story.
a lot has happened in the past year, but pain of some events don't diminish the joy of others. i've experienced both emotions vividly and frequently since leaving miami and while that has made it an almost incongruous, disjointed year it has been complete. i could not ask for more.
i've survived my first year of post-undergraduate.
at times, it really did feel like survival, but those are the times. it's not that the past year went so fast or slow. yes, time did strange things like light speed through thrilling weeks with someone new only to expand infinitely through months of unemployment.
the startling part about the last year, however, wasn't the time but the events themselves. it is their striking contrast that makes the time since graduation inexplicable and difficult to capture.
like most opposites, the beginning and the end often act the same. i ended my time at miami by spending the last missing out on several hours of sleep getting to know someone amazing. i packed up four years and moved them home by myself on a two-day drive home.
i unpacked.
i packed for a six-week trip through europe with my best friend from college. we drove a rented stick-shift through crete at 6am, slept with a homeless woman in florence, bicycled through amsterdam. we did a stereotypical post-college tour of europe. while we had done something many others our age had done, and will do, we did it just a little differently because it was us doing it.
i flew to columbus to see friends.
i flew to chicago to find an apartment.
i flew to kansas city to unpack.
i packed for what, in many ways, would be the last family vacation of its kind. the three of us embarked on a two-week road trip of the west. i was fascinated by that which i had never seen before. it wasn't europe but it amazed me just as much. we spent time together as a family. we laughed. we drove each other a little nuts. we watched the landscape change and counted animals. we appreciated each other. we returned home in time for me to pack.
i moved to chicago.
i started a new job.
i met new friends.
i ran into a guy.
i worked trade shows.
i quit the job.
i searched for new employment.
i explored the city.
i volunteered as a tutor.
i went to concerts.
i offered parts of myself.
i ate brunch.
i felt optimistic.
i interviewed.
i felt rejected.
i felt defeated.
i cried.
i ached.
i received a phone call.
i worried.
i stressed.
i gave up.
i received another phone call.
i celebrated.
i worked.
i grew.
i decided.
i reflected.
i don't think i can articulate the next part without sounding like the moral of the story.
a lot has happened in the past year, but pain of some events don't diminish the joy of others. i've experienced both emotions vividly and frequently since leaving miami and while that has made it an almost incongruous, disjointed year it has been complete. i could not ask for more.
5.04.2008
to pee or not to pee
i pee a lot.
it's not a health condition or a problem. it's just who i am. as a result, i'm tuned in to the functioning of my apartment's toilet and, thus, i realized immediately that something was wrong when the flush cycle ran longer than usual yesterday afternoon.
peering into the tank, i noticed the flush ball had almost completely broken off from the arm. with the buoy-as-balance-as-water-level-indicator idea shot, this resulted in the water continuing to run at an excessive rate. using making tape, i jimmied the arm up, took some photos for the hardware store, and realized i 1). knew nothing about toilet parts or reconstruction and 2). could be in a very sad, lonely place if this toilet was out of commission for more than, well, an hour.
the man at the hardware store hardly glanced at my artfully taken toilet shots before announcing, "well you need all new guts." i assumed he was talking about the toilet and not me, accepted the packaged guts into my open hand, and rode home wondering if 9-step instructions could possibly detail what to do with all the parts included in this kit.
returning home i weighed my options. my list of home-repair is not too lengthy. i've doctored up a scratch on my car, unclogged a shower drain, and fixed a running toilet by discovering the screw in the fill valve was a litte loose. and while i can boast installing my bed, dresser drawers, coffee table, and bookshelf single-handedly, none of that involves massive amounts of running water that could potentially flood my apartment and the two below me.
long story short, my landlord returned my call late last night and it was decided his father would come fix it around 10 am. (it's now 11:24...) in the meantime i've discovered the multiple ways we can continue to use our porcelain appliance while still avoiding the irritating, wasteful running water issue. i detail it in a note i left for my roommate:
Hi There--
You've got 3 choices:
1). Pretend the toilet is a chamber pot-- touch nothing (except ass to seat) use it, and i'll take care of it in the morning. Please don't poop with this option.
2). Use it like a normal:
A). Right now the water is OFF, so toilet doesn't run and waste water.
B). So, first do your business. easy.
C). Look at toilet-- down by floor on the left is a silver knob. Turn it to the left (you'll quickly hear the water start running.) Turn about 4 or 5 times or until you see white tube showing.
D). Flush toilet like normal. Wait for water in tank to refill. (Might have to help the big ball rise to top by gently pulling up on the arm it's connected to.)
E). When tank is full, go down to silver knob, turn opposite way as before until water stops running.
3). Put on your shoes. Cross street. Use Port-a-Potty. (i.e. "The Homeless Option.")
it's not a health condition or a problem. it's just who i am. as a result, i'm tuned in to the functioning of my apartment's toilet and, thus, i realized immediately that something was wrong when the flush cycle ran longer than usual yesterday afternoon.
peering into the tank, i noticed the flush ball had almost completely broken off from the arm. with the buoy-as-balance-as-water-level-indicator idea shot, this resulted in the water continuing to run at an excessive rate. using making tape, i jimmied the arm up, took some photos for the hardware store, and realized i 1). knew nothing about toilet parts or reconstruction and 2). could be in a very sad, lonely place if this toilet was out of commission for more than, well, an hour.
the man at the hardware store hardly glanced at my artfully taken toilet shots before announcing, "well you need all new guts." i assumed he was talking about the toilet and not me, accepted the packaged guts into my open hand, and rode home wondering if 9-step instructions could possibly detail what to do with all the parts included in this kit.
returning home i weighed my options. my list of home-repair is not too lengthy. i've doctored up a scratch on my car, unclogged a shower drain, and fixed a running toilet by discovering the screw in the fill valve was a litte loose. and while i can boast installing my bed, dresser drawers, coffee table, and bookshelf single-handedly, none of that involves massive amounts of running water that could potentially flood my apartment and the two below me.
long story short, my landlord returned my call late last night and it was decided his father would come fix it around 10 am. (it's now 11:24...) in the meantime i've discovered the multiple ways we can continue to use our porcelain appliance while still avoiding the irritating, wasteful running water issue. i detail it in a note i left for my roommate:
Hi There--
You've got 3 choices:
1). Pretend the toilet is a chamber pot-- touch nothing (except ass to seat) use it, and i'll take care of it in the morning. Please don't poop with this option.
2). Use it like a normal:
A). Right now the water is OFF, so toilet doesn't run and waste water.
B). So, first do your business. easy.
C). Look at toilet-- down by floor on the left is a silver knob. Turn it to the left (you'll quickly hear the water start running.) Turn about 4 or 5 times or until you see white tube showing.
D). Flush toilet like normal. Wait for water in tank to refill. (Might have to help the big ball rise to top by gently pulling up on the arm it's connected to.)
E). When tank is full, go down to silver knob, turn opposite way as before until water stops running.
3). Put on your shoes. Cross street. Use Port-a-Potty. (i.e. "The Homeless Option.")
5.03.2008
these ain't yo' gramma's cupcakes.
in honor of my cupcaking loving friend's 23rd birthday, three of us dreamed up what few women have dared to do and what shall from her on out be known as Tour de Cupcake. really, this is exactly what it sounds like.
we started off the day with a little safety session at Roscoe Village Bikes. both friends had had minor biking altercations the week prior, so instead of risking life and limb for cupcakes, one of us bought a helment, the other two filled tires, and then we rode. do you know how much easier bicycle riding is when one's tires are properly filled? good god! i was flying. effortless.
the tour commenced at southport grocery, where a round of safe favorites in the flavor of vanilla cupcakes started the sugar high. we split some solid food then rolled down to molly's cupcakes on clark. the fare included strawberry shortcake, carrot cake, and red velvet cake. the only disappointment was we couldn't sit on the swings installed inside. spirits were high, blood sugar even higher.
next stop, sweet mandy b's. we sat at the counter and watched the assembly line of baked goods. so much frosting, baking, selling, and caking i've never seen. i split a banana chocolate-chip cupcake and tried a bite of the creamsicle. both were delicious. the birthday girl struck up a conversation with this young lady and her curly curls. (imagine her turned 90 degrees.) later in the evening when coming off the high, we wished we would've asked, "hey little girl. didja momma wig ya?!"
then we fled the accumulating accusations of pedophilia. in my haste i ended up completing the bermuda triangle of biking accidents for the week. unfortunately, mine was the only one inflicted upon myself by myself. somehow in the course of attempting to use my bike peddle as a skateboard and cruise down the sidewalk, i got distracted (probably by my sugar shakes) and ran over my own foot. luckily, i avoided the large wood planter and didn't wipe out completely. i think my chuck's are a little pissed i took out part of their sole.
stop 4 was on belmont at bittersweet. european cafe style, we all split one mocha cupcake. probably the least inspired stop on the tour, their other desserts did look delicious, and i still haven't met a cupcake i won't eat.
for the grand finale we rode into bleeding heart, guns blazing and teeth gnashing.
to finish our cupcake-neutral friend got a piece of fresh strawberry pie. birthday girl got a vanilla cupcake with carmalized eggplant,cilantro,jalapeno and green curry, lemongrass frosting. woah. and i ended with one fine piece of cake-- white chocolate wasabi. this wasn't no traditional birthday party. smiles, sugar comas, and sore legs were had by all.
we started off the day with a little safety session at Roscoe Village Bikes. both friends had had minor biking altercations the week prior, so instead of risking life and limb for cupcakes, one of us bought a helment, the other two filled tires, and then we rode. do you know how much easier bicycle riding is when one's tires are properly filled? good god! i was flying. effortless.
the tour commenced at southport grocery, where a round of safe favorites in the flavor of vanilla cupcakes started the sugar high. we split some solid food then rolled down to molly's cupcakes on clark. the fare included strawberry shortcake, carrot cake, and red velvet cake. the only disappointment was we couldn't sit on the swings installed inside. spirits were high, blood sugar even higher.
next stop, sweet mandy b's. we sat at the counter and watched the assembly line of baked goods. so much frosting, baking, selling, and caking i've never seen. i split a banana chocolate-chip cupcake and tried a bite of the creamsicle. both were delicious. the birthday girl struck up a conversation with this young lady and her curly curls. (imagine her turned 90 degrees.) later in the evening when coming off the high, we wished we would've asked, "hey little girl. didja momma wig ya?!"
then we fled the accumulating accusations of pedophilia. in my haste i ended up completing the bermuda triangle of biking accidents for the week. unfortunately, mine was the only one inflicted upon myself by myself. somehow in the course of attempting to use my bike peddle as a skateboard and cruise down the sidewalk, i got distracted (probably by my sugar shakes) and ran over my own foot. luckily, i avoided the large wood planter and didn't wipe out completely. i think my chuck's are a little pissed i took out part of their sole.
stop 4 was on belmont at bittersweet. european cafe style, we all split one mocha cupcake. probably the least inspired stop on the tour, their other desserts did look delicious, and i still haven't met a cupcake i won't eat.
for the grand finale we rode into bleeding heart, guns blazing and teeth gnashing.
to finish our cupcake-neutral friend got a piece of fresh strawberry pie. birthday girl got a vanilla cupcake with carmalized eggplant,cilantro,jalapeno and green curry, lemongrass frosting. woah. and i ended with one fine piece of cake-- white chocolate wasabi. this wasn't no traditional birthday party. smiles, sugar comas, and sore legs were had by all.
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