May 2007 Archives
"No, I cannot take our logo and turn it into a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle graphic in isometric perspective for the cover of the report when the actual report isn't finished, Illustrator isn't my strong suit, and the entire shebang needs to be done and at the printer by 5:00 and it's now 2:15 pm."
Sheesh, folks, I'm good -- but I'm not magic.
: doing a small dance ; I had four days off...I had four days off...I had four days off...and now I'm BACK AT WORK! :D
First half of the weekend was utterly groovy; second half, not so much. First half of the weekend was hanging out, spending lots of quality time with R, a lovely dinner on Saturday night, and some smoochin'. :)
The only odd spot in the first half was getting stuck in our apartment... We're up on the 16th floor, and our elevators went out as we were headed off to a diner midday Saturday. R would not let me hop all the way down 16 flights of stairs in the cast (wise man), so we had some hotdogs instead, and hung out for another hour while we waited for things to be fixed. :D
Second half of the weekend was me being sick -- what I thought was a hangover (see "lovely dinner," above) actually turned out to be a stomach virus...or those hotdogs were older than we'd thought. :( I spent Sunday not going out with friends as planned, but leveling fishing -- yes, FISHING -- in World of Warcraft, while being hot and trying not to hurl. The fishing worked out, as I don't think I could have had an actual fight with anything. My poor Gnome would have said, "Know what? You win," and barfed on her enemies.
Monday we spent questing (more WoW) -- I felt a little better, but it was best that I hung out in the nice air conditioning, sitting down, etc. I'm still not 100% today, but certainly not as bad as Sunday!
Porcupine Tree
Pretty sure I didn't mention seeing Porcupine Tree last weekend. They're another one of R's bands -- a lot of progressive fans like them, but they're actually quite metally in some spots, and electronic in others. I hadn't heard anything from them...ever...but the concert was quite good, and I've got some of their albums on my iPod now. They're not as perky as Spock's Beard (who are still perky even when they're singing a sadder song) -- Tree has a different feel altogether.
All good. Go listen to both bands; turn off that radio!
I'm sure I came off as a bit rude to a gentleman this morning, but honestly, I just couldn't help it. While I was waiting for a (very crowded) 6 train, a man came up to me and said, "Excuse me?" Blinking up at him from my book, I said, "Yes?" He then proceeded to tell me that he needed laser surgery on his knee, and did I know anything about it, since I was in a cast? "No, I'm sorry..." "But was your surgery on your toes? Did you have laser surgery..." "No, no," I said, interrupting him, "I haven't had any surgery. It's tendonitis. I don't know anything about laser surgery." "But..." "No, I'm sorry -- I really don't know anything about it."
He seemed nice enough, but asking a random stranger in a cast about laser surgery for your knee is about as good as asking a random stranger where your car keys are. It's surgery on a body part -- don't leave it to chance!
This has been a public service announcement. With guitars! :)
Most exciting thing to happen today: this very site got pinged for a Google search on "lap-dancing nun."
...
Yeah, beats me, too. Oh, but -- BUT -- it provides a nice segue to my friend Sharon, who reminded me in an e-mail today that my high school (private, Catholic, nuns, 'member?) used to have something called "Field Day." ZOMG! I haven't thought about Field Day for...uh...erm...20 years. Eeps. So, Field Day! Yay, for Field Day...urm...hrm. Did I like Field Day? We spent the day in the sun (bad) doing sports (worse)...maybe not so much. :D Ah, the memories...
If I ever have kids, they'll attend a school that has "Geek Day," where they spend the entire day playing video games! Yeah, that'll learn 'em!
I've had one or two experiences where projects I've built have been taken away and given to someone else -- restructuring, new personnel, or just plain office politics. It's always hurt some. To have an entire magazine, though, built from the ground up suddenly decide to go "revisionist history"...to the point where you have to leave...that's got to be a killer. That's happened, though, to Derek and Heather -- they are no longer with JPG magazine, a publication that started with a walk through a park.
Derek has been on the Web since forever-ago, first starting out with Fray. He's been building communities ever since, even writing the book on them -- literally. Heather has also been rockin' for the longest time, starting up her Mirror Project and lately working with communities (there's that word again!) on Flickr.
I look forward to seeing what they do next. It'll be genius, I'm sure. Meantime, I need to think about whether I can support -- or submit -- to a publication that takes these kind of actions.
Gang: My brother-in-law is starring in a MTV movie spoof called..."The Defarted." People can come to the site and vote for their favorite spoof -- winner gets to go to the awards. The spoof is funny, and deserves your vote -- I'm pimpin' for the fam. :)
Had a pretty good weekend. :) R and I celebrated my birthday on Friday night (the official day was Saturday), then we drove out to R's grandparents in Greenport, Long Island on Saturday morning. We had great weather for a drive, plus we'd gotten a little red Mini Cooper from Zipcar -- cuteness abounded. :) However, we'd rented the Mini Cooper before we knew I'd have the boot on my leg. Let me tell you, those are small cars. Me trying to get in it for the first time? Pure comedy gold, baby.
We did Saturday with R's family and stayed over that night -- R and I went out for dinner in town. Greenport is a little port town on the tip of Long Island's North Fork. We hung out in a pub called the "Chowder Pot" -- I had some amazing seafood and nice red wine. Dangit, I miss hanging out in port towns...the Steamroom in Pt. Jefferson is one of my favorite places to go. We got up the next morning, spent some more time with his grandparents, and then walked around Greenport for a few hours before heading in to see my family for dinner. Coolest thing? We got to see the camera obscura they have there in Mitchell Park. You could see everything once the lights were out -- amazing. (Yes, I have pictures of the pictures...these are better, though.)
Traffic back home last night blew the big one, though -- since that was the worst thing about the entire weekend, I certainly can't complain. :)
Something about this weekend...I have an absolute need, craving, jones, you name it, to lay in bed and hear rain pound outside the window, preferably wrapped in my down comforter. Our apartment is the first place I've ever been in that doesn't have a window in the bedroom, and I really, really miss it. Just to hear some rain... : shiver :
The photo up top is the result of the self-portrait assignment I had last week -- figured I may as well show it. There are two others: here and here, too. And for my geek buddies, here's my World of Warcraft alter-ego: Cake on her own, and with her Talbuk, Inky (who, yes, is almost comically taller than she).
Yes, folks, another shining example of subway haiku!
Man, it smells down here
Someone pissed in the corner
Go pee somewhere else!
Biiiiig giant WTF moment this evening. Class and teacher liked the self-portraits, but then I had a wee bit of a dustup with my instructor which so annoyed me that I really didn't absorb what he had to say. What really sucks is that it was our last class.
I don't respond well when someone who's known me for all of four weeks (or 8 days, depending on how you see it) decides they know who I am and what I'm about and tries to analyze me accordingly. My friends and family get to do that...and they get to tell me all about it...even if it's something I don't want to hear. :) But my instructor simply doesn't get to do that, and especially when he's analyzing me, not necessarily the work I presented.
(Yes, I know, what I see and take pictures of is all about who I am as a person. I do believe that when you take a picture, you are presenting your view, your opinion. But this definitely went beyond analysis of self as evidenced in output...)
What really got me is that he wouldn't stand down. He made some comment, I was taken aback and "???," and then it seemed to just escalate. At one point, he'd made some comment, then tried to explain it -- I took it to mean he was being soothing, and jokingly made the "bullshit shoveling" sign. I don't think he took it as me joking with him -- I think he took it as me saying his entire deal was bullshit, which actually, I didn't think it was. He really wanted me to take his analysis and accept his views, but I was totally unable to even listen openly, and really think about what he wanted to say, because by then I was just way too pissed off.
I dunno, there's been some weird...thing throughout this class, but tonight it went from playful busting to something else, and I'm not sure how or even why.
Class dismissed...
How I spent last night: running around my apartment, looking in a small hand mirror, and screaming. Over. And over.
Why'd this sad state of events come to pass? Because I am an utter spaz who should never play poker. Ever. See, in one of my photography workshop classes, we had to do portraits. Easiest way to do portraits is to take them of each other...which led to someone first trying to take one of me on the fly...which led to my reflex action of throwing my arm in front of my face and screaming, "Gaaaaah, don't DO that!" in the middle of the street.
From that single moment of extreme subtlety, my teacher managed to discern that I really, really, really don't like having my picture taken. I don't! I'm not overly fond of my face, I've gained weight from not being able to walk (and from, ya know, food), and I just don't like being exposed in that way. Mind, I didn't like having my picture taken when I was 21 and a size 3, so I've pretty much always been picture-avoidant. It's just my thing. My nose is funny, I have no chin (from the cleft palate, I have an abnormally small jaw -- I really do have no chin) and...gah!
I did make it through the portrait class, and even sat through the critique with my face blown up on a big screen...cringing...behind my hair. Moment of Subtlety #2: When one is hiding behind one's hair and muttering "ebbeh," there might be an issue! It was then that my teacher began muttering about self-portraits, in a general kind of way.
The muttering reached a dull roar the next week, when I made the mistake of wearing a bright orange shirt to class. Here is how some of my classmates' minds worked: "Hmmm, this street is dreary. Oh, there is a bright spot of color! It's Roe and her orange shirt! Must take a picture of her!" Lather, rinse, repeat, hide behind hair and mutter during critique.
Then came Saturday, when we were running (or, in my case, gimping) around Central Park and at one point, my teacher decided to take pictures of me. He thought they were flattering, I was my usual "Gah!" : hide :. At the end of class, he came up to me and said, "You. Self-portrait for Thursday."
!!!
I did ask him if it needed to be literal or figurative...I'd had some demented notion about the shoes of cuteness poised on a windowsill...but decided it was too twee. And the answer I got was really, "Do your face." Hence, running around, screaming, calls of panic to trusted friends. I did quash my immature impulse to shoot myself wearing a mask, or any other means of concealment. Aren't y'all proud that at almost-39, I'm so mature? >:P
So I shot some stuff last night -- I got two that might be usable -- but they were shot on auto so I know I'll get creamed for that. I threw it on auto because I was freaking and wanted to make some part of this a little easier. However, I've since realized that I should try it on manual for integrity's sake...and it might even be a little easier since the camera will keep its focus when I try to see what it looks like, rather than refocusing over and over again.
But, so help me, this is making me cringe.
Last night I noticed that my arms were killing me...straight from wrists to elbows. Couldn't figure out why, and was pretty puzzled until I started drumming along to Rasputina.
For those who haven't seen me in the flesh, I am infamous for banging on things at the drop of a hat -- music not actually necessary. The best example was in our high school cafeteria -- think private, think Catholic, think nuns -- where we'd just gotten our class rings, and I was banging on the table to see what it sounded like. My friends all grew extremely quiet as I was tapping away like a demented Muppet, until finally, our psych teacher stood behind me and said, "Roe, what ARE you doing," while everyone else basically fell about with laughter. "Oh...um...hi!" :)
(On the other hand, a friend of mine asked me to marry him after drumming on his back to Celtic drinking songs in an Irish pub. :D It takes a lot of hooch to make me lose time.)
So...end of Saturday night, and where was I? Listening to some cover band in the basement of a bar, and, you guessed it, banging on the hard, hard table. Idiot. My hands are bruised, and I didn't even know it.
Moral, kids? Don't drink and drum!
So, last night. Out for a friend's birthday in a bar in the Village. The bar had this scent, one of old houses, friend's apartments in college in Poughkeepsie, the ones with the slanted floors and creaking walls. Half-drunk, upstairs, hearing a New Order song coming from below -- total college flashback. Where am I, again? And who?!
Perched on a stool in the bathroom, putting band-aids on my toes. Woman on her cell phone in the other room, by the sink. Pretty, lots of hair, lots of jewelry, full skirt, toes in sparkly sandals. "No. No. What, are you going to get another slipped disc again? We're going to kill each other. We both have restraining orders. We can't do this again. What is it going to take?" Mental jaw dropping with every word. Took all I had not to say, "Whatever that was, GET OUT OF IT." She did not look like she wanted interference.
As she was leaving, she took one look at me, and said softly, "Oh, someone's feet hurt." I smiled, nodded. She left, to her life.
:: Not nearly as bad as your heart... ::
I was asked, yesterday, who my big concerts were in high school, and then in college. Those who saw said shows with me (and you know who you are) will be amused to know that I had a really hard time remembering -- I was mortified!
So here's a rough accounting...guys, if I'm leaving anything out, let me know. Brain hurty. Hungover, ya know.
High school: U2 and the Cure (Jones Beach). First concert ever was U2's "Unforgettable Fire" tour, which is a good way to start off, no? :D
College (where things get really hazy...went to school at Marist, in Poughkeepsie, so saw shows around there):
The Cure (Madison Square Garden -- hi, Sharon! -- remember singing the Femmes on the train?), the Cure (Giants Stadium), Love and Rockets, Pixies, Shellyann Orphan (all at that Cure show, it was an all-day), Violent Femmes at some pier in NYC (where we bought, god help us, *Alexi Vodka* in Penn Station -- yeeeeeuch), Howard Jones (shaddup), Depeche Mode (Violator Tour), They Might Be Giants (Vassar), Ramones (Vassar, the Chance), Sonic Youth, Butthole Surfers, the Replacements (we MET them, they said "hi" as they stumbled in from the bar across the street), the Fixx...oh, ZEBRA...heh heh, that was my roomate trying to spy on her boyfriend... I know there's more in there, I'm a little appalled that I'm spacing it. If The Chance had an archive list... :D
Post-college: R.E.M. (3 times), Echo & the Bunnymen, New Order, Gene Loves Jezebel (two drunk hippies with a *wineskin* screaming, "Echo Houston!"), the Cure (duh...Nassau Collesium, Jones Beach, Randall's Island), Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Ministry, Lollapalooza, Depeche Mode (about 3-4 times since college), Fishbone, Rasputina, Beastie Boys, They Might be Giants, Rush, Spock's Beard, Nick Cave, Metallica, Lisa Germano, Black Sabbath, Tori Amos, Joan Osbourne, Lillith Fair, on and on and on... Oh, Lush, can't forget them since it's where I met my ex-husband -- on line outside of Irving Plaza...
Yeah, this list is so not complete. Can't forget my friend's bands, either. Oh, and, uh, me. Hey, you guys get to say you saw me! :D
Edited to add: Soul Asylum! (I *heart* Dave Pirner. Such a crush...) Cheap Trick! INXS!
Edited again: Pink Martini! Foo Fighters!
Fucking hell. Saw the orthopedist this morning. What I expected: cortisone shot, I walk out dancing and carrying a bouquet of flowers, having been crowned queen. What I got: two new pieces of footwear as an almost-birthday gift, neither cute. In fact, the polar opposite of the shoes of cuteness. It's the anti-cute.
So, the new footwear? A VERY LARGE BOOT...for the next four weeks...that has a pump in it, even. There's a nighttime version, too, for added fun. Both shoes are slanted in such a way that they will force the leg muscles not to contract...it's meant to hold it all in place to forcibly stretch it all out. Apparently, my doc won't do cortisone shots -- he feels that it could weaken the tendons of my foot, causing them to rupture, and leading to surgery. Uh, I'd rather not, thanks.
How bad looking is the boot? Lessee...my officemate said, "Wow, it's the bionic leg lady." Boss: "Hey, you going skiing on one leg?" And R, the one who loves me the most: "Did you hijack a stormtrooper from Star Wars?"
: sigh :
I'll start wearing it Sunday. I simply refuse to gimp around in that thing tomorrow while trying to keep a camera steady...or a drink, for that matter, since we're going out tomorrow night. It'll be my last day in halfway-decent footwear.
You may get pictures Sunday afternoon, depending on my mortification level.
: grumbles : Frickin' boot.
Someone stole our "friendly planet" laundry detergent out of the washroom. :( Downright un-neighborly, that is.
