Welcome back to the blog. I can't remember the last time you looked so stunning... and you smell fantastic.
Had I known you'd show up looking so fabulous, I'd have run a comb through my hair (maybe even have fired up the curling iron), and made myself look a bit more presentable. Although, looks can be deceiving: even though I may be donning an old pair of worn out blue jeans and a scraggly ragamuffin tee, I am nonetheless "dressed for success." Ladies and gentlemen, today I came face to face with a pivotal national crisis--a potential catastrophe to all mankind: a terror so perilous, it would have driven a lesser man to solemn tears of defeat... and through all unspeakable odds, I victoriously prevailed!
Today... yes, today...I lost my Visa check card. And that's not the only thing I lost--I went crazy trying to find it. I looked absolutely everywhere, including places I knew, with absolute certainty, that it was not. There is a general process that every person goes through when they have lost something of significant importance:
You complete your shopping routine and head to the checkout counter, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that is about to rear its ugly head. After unloading your items, the clerk gives you a total. You open your wallet and realize disaster has stricken. This is known as the "oh crap" moment. Whether or not you have anyone with you, you always declare your misfortune-- and always out loud:
"Where's my check card?" you say. "I know it was in here yesterday...?"
You look to the cashier for emotional support--she's not having it, she's witnessed this on 3 separate occasions this morning alone. Realizing this is a troublesome situation, you turn to the person standing in line behind you with that uneasy "I'm not sure how this happened" smile. He doesn't care either, he's got places to be and people to see. He returns your non-verbal communication and responds with the standard "Lady, you better figure out something real quick" eyebrow lift and eye-roll (this is also accompanied with an intentionally louder than normal inhale/exhale combination). Your attention now revolves back to the clerk, but you don't have to murmur a word, as she's already putting your bagged belongings below the counter for re-shelving. When a quick but thorough body check yields no results, you admit defeat and head back to the parking lot.
As your mind races with possible Visa card locations, you furrow your eyebrows in worry and quickly walk back to your vehicle. At each intersection, one eye is kept on the changing stoplight while the other frantically searches the console of the front seat. At major intersections, both hands come entirely off of the steering wheel, and a full vehicle cavity search is performed within an arms-length radius. The process continues the entire way: searchsearchsearchsearchsearch--green light! ... ... ... ... searchsearchsearchsearchsearch--green light! ... ... ... ... searchsearch--where on earth is this th--green light!
When you reach your final destination, you mumble incessantly...repeatedly recalling aloud each and every step taken since you last saw your plastic life-source...
"Okay. I know I had it at Walmart yesterday. I'm almost sure I remember putting it back in my purse after that. Did I go anywhere else? Oh yeah, I swung through the drive-through. I'm sure I would have realized if I didn't get it back from him, you'd think I would have noticed. Walmart, drive-through... I mean where else could it be? I know I had it at the checkout counter last time, and I'm sure I put it back...".
Immediately marching inside,you check every possible nick and cranny of your home, in this order:
1) your wallet.
2) your car.
3) your wallet.
4) the kitchen table.
5) the table by the door.
6) your car.
7) every pocket of the pants you are currently wearing.
8)the couch cushions.
9) every pocket of the pants you wore yesterday.
10) the computer desk.
11) your wallet.
12) the refrigerator.
13) the kitchen cupboards.
14) every pocket of the pants you wore 2 days ago.
15) the car.
--pause to yell at everyone for not helping you look--
16) the computer desk.
17) the junk drawer in the kitchen.
18) your winter coat.
19) the garbage.
20) your bedroom floor.
21) every pocket of every pair of pants you've ever worn.
22) your wallet.
23) the computer desk.
24) the couch cushions.
25) the kitchen cupboards.
26) the laundry room, including the washing machine, dryer, and lint trap.
27) your underwear drawer.
28) your car.
29) your wallet.
30) the refrigerator.
Then, as if a bulb literally bursts into light above your noggin, it dawns on you--the exact location of your beloved Visa Check Card: the top dresser drawer, precisely 2 inches from where you last placed it. Immediately upon retrieval, the card is hoisted into the air, and from the bellows of your innards, you triumphantly shout: "I FOUND IT!!!" In a voice so loudly that those you've corralled to double check the basement can hear your victorious battle cry. Family members roll their eyes and continue on in their normal lives. As a calming relief soothes every fiber of your being, you feel as though you can conquer anything.
With another crisis averted, I can now ease into bed, knowing I'll be able to charge another day. Attention world: you have my permission to start spinning again.
Peace out,
H
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
When life hands you lemons...
Oh, hi there! I didn't see you come in. This really is a pleasant surprise! Come on in out of the rain and dry off ...stay a while.
According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA)'s National Severe Storms Laboratory (NSSL) based in Norman, Oklahoma, and also renowned Weather Channel Meteorologist Kristina Abernathy: it rained today. I suspected such an atmospheric behavior when I looked out my window this morning, and that suspicion has indeed since been
confirmed. While I do adore a ferocious thunderstorm (although the concept of "hail" was much more exhilarating before I upgraded from "big wheels" to 4wheel drive), I do believe it is time yet again, for bright and cheery skies.
The summer season seems to bring with it a nostalgic feeling of simpler times. I have always looked forward to the warmth of the sun, and carefree days spent soaking in it. When the sweltering sun is too much to bear, and cash is sparse, 6 year old marketing geniuses line the streets with refreshing beverages, for a mind-blowing 10 cents a cup. The real money makers will charge extra for the straws... that's where the real profits are. I know this, because I, too, was a young sidewalk entrepreneur.
Take my advice, kids, because I learned the ropes the hard way, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life:
Years ago, on a peaceful summer day, I drug our old wooden kiddie-sized picnic table (hey whatever happened to that thing, anyways?) to the corner slab of boulevard outside our house. This spot had huge potential - a corner lot - catching traffic not only travelling north to south, but east to west, as well. The stage was set; all I needed was the perfect elixir of sugar, water, and an "ade." The most important decision: would it be "lemon"? The safe choice? Or dare I make a clever switch to "kool"? The general public would surely never see it coming! I threw on my star-shaped sunglasses, hopped on my pink flowered banana seat and sped off to B&D Market. The faster I rode, the 'tinking' sound of plastic flowers sliding up and down my spokes dwindled to the mere whir of rubber on concrete.
By the time I reached the store, I had already confidently pinpointed the perfect summer potion: pink lemonade. How could I go wrong?? I threw my purchase in my plastic faux wicker basket, and rode home with the same raw fury as before. My mother (under my instructions, of course) carefully mixed the rosy concoction to a tee. It was as though she had done this a thousand times. Meanwhile, I grabbed the finest white lined paper money could buy, and the necessary Crayolas to accurately portray my product. In mere minutes, I created a masterpiece: "Lemonade - 10 cents." In my eyes, the adjacent depiction of a glass of pink lemonade was uncanny. The ice cubes seemed to dance on the page. What simple-minded passerby with any common sense could pass up such an irresistible bargain? I grabbed a jar of change and boldly marched into place.
It was a hot day... I knew it would be hook, line, and sinker. A short moment had passed, and I quickly made my first sale (not surprisingly). Shortly thereafter, a young couple stopped to quench their thirst-- already I was up 30 cents!! Then... I saw it... bright, shiny, and green: the station wagon of all station wagons; and she was packed full of parched men, women, and children. JACKPOT! I waited there on the curb, cool and collected, pretending not to notice as the mother approached my humble stand. Out of the corner of my eye, I estimated at least 8 bodies in the backseat of the car, give or take a few - I can't be sure, this was no time to gawk.
"It's 10 cents?" she asked.
"Yep!" I said. "10 cents."
"Ooh, looks pretty good!" she kindly remarked. On the outside, I smiled and accepted the compliment. On the inside, I thought,
"Of course it looks good, lady, this is the best lemonade stand within 5 blocks of here. You'd be hard pressed to come across nectar this good again in a very long time."
[On a side note, sometimes my perception of myself in my own thoughts takes on a "newsies" character, standing on a dim-lit alley corner flipping a nickel in the air with one hand, the other in my pocket, talking out the side of my mouth-- I'm not sure why.]
"I'll take 6 cups!" She said with delight. I vigorously began to fill 6 cups of pink lemonade 3/4 of the way full, handing her each one as I finished. Soon, every child in the wagon had a cool drink. I awaited my prize. She opened her black snap coin purse as I extended my hands in anticipation. As she placed a shimmering dime in my hand, I reached for my jar of change to seal transaction number one. I placed the silver in the jar and began to extend my hand once more, (by now, giving her plenty of time to rummage for 5 more coins) only to find the coin purse not only closed, but hastily being stuffed back into its larger counterpart...I was speechless. I stood there in disbelief, my mind stirring - She couldn't possibly think that it was all 10 cents!? Could She?? She knew it was 10 cents a cup - didn't she?? How could she make that mistake? It's so obvious! Maybe she's getting more change in her car?? I gave her the benefit of the doubt while I stood there, stunned.
"Thank-you!!" She waved, as she closed her car door.
"Thank you!" I answered back, unable to come up with anything better to say.
I was duped! A cute little 6 year old like me! Taken advantage of, by a nice lady in a Ford Station Wagon! I waited until the car was out of sight to pull the sign from the table. I marched back inside, enraged by the previous events. I grabbed my trusty Crayola Marker and altered the sign to it's true intentions: "Lemonade - 10 cents a cup." I sold a few more lemonades before wrapping up sales for the day. I gathered up my meager profits and closed up shop. The recollection of that day's tragic events will forever haunt my memory. I like to think that at some point, sometime, somewhere, she remembers me too - a cute little girl with pigtails, just trying to make ends meet, in the sweltering heat of summer.
Sometimes when life hands you lemons, it's not so easy to make lemonade...I guess you have to hope life also hands you a whole lot of sugar.
Peace out,
H
According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA)'s National Severe Storms Laboratory (NSSL) based in Norman, Oklahoma, and also renowned Weather Channel Meteorologist Kristina Abernathy: it rained today. I suspected such an atmospheric behavior when I looked out my window this morning, and that suspicion has indeed since been
confirmed. While I do adore a ferocious thunderstorm (although the concept of "hail" was much more exhilarating before I upgraded from "big wheels" to 4wheel drive), I do believe it is time yet again, for bright and cheery skies.
The summer season seems to bring with it a nostalgic feeling of simpler times. I have always looked forward to the warmth of the sun, and carefree days spent soaking in it. When the sweltering sun is too much to bear, and cash is sparse, 6 year old marketing geniuses line the streets with refreshing beverages, for a mind-blowing 10 cents a cup. The real money makers will charge extra for the straws... that's where the real profits are. I know this, because I, too, was a young sidewalk entrepreneur.
Take my advice, kids, because I learned the ropes the hard way, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life:
Years ago, on a peaceful summer day, I drug our old wooden kiddie-sized picnic table (hey whatever happened to that thing, anyways?) to the corner slab of boulevard outside our house. This spot had huge potential - a corner lot - catching traffic not only travelling north to south, but east to west, as well. The stage was set; all I needed was the perfect elixir of sugar, water, and an "ade." The most important decision: would it be "lemon"? The safe choice? Or dare I make a clever switch to "kool"? The general public would surely never see it coming! I threw on my star-shaped sunglasses, hopped on my pink flowered banana seat and sped off to B&D Market. The faster I rode, the 'tinking' sound of plastic flowers sliding up and down my spokes dwindled to the mere whir of rubber on concrete.
By the time I reached the store, I had already confidently pinpointed the perfect summer potion: pink lemonade. How could I go wrong?? I threw my purchase in my plastic faux wicker basket, and rode home with the same raw fury as before. My mother (under my instructions, of course) carefully mixed the rosy concoction to a tee. It was as though she had done this a thousand times. Meanwhile, I grabbed the finest white lined paper money could buy, and the necessary Crayolas to accurately portray my product. In mere minutes, I created a masterpiece: "Lemonade - 10 cents." In my eyes, the adjacent depiction of a glass of pink lemonade was uncanny. The ice cubes seemed to dance on the page. What simple-minded passerby with any common sense could pass up such an irresistible bargain? I grabbed a jar of change and boldly marched into place.
It was a hot day... I knew it would be hook, line, and sinker. A short moment had passed, and I quickly made my first sale (not surprisingly). Shortly thereafter, a young couple stopped to quench their thirst-- already I was up 30 cents!! Then... I saw it... bright, shiny, and green: the station wagon of all station wagons; and she was packed full of parched men, women, and children. JACKPOT! I waited there on the curb, cool and collected, pretending not to notice as the mother approached my humble stand. Out of the corner of my eye, I estimated at least 8 bodies in the backseat of the car, give or take a few - I can't be sure, this was no time to gawk.
"It's 10 cents?" she asked.
"Yep!" I said. "10 cents."
"Ooh, looks pretty good!" she kindly remarked. On the outside, I smiled and accepted the compliment. On the inside, I thought,
"Of course it looks good, lady, this is the best lemonade stand within 5 blocks of here. You'd be hard pressed to come across nectar this good again in a very long time."
[On a side note, sometimes my perception of myself in my own thoughts takes on a "newsies" character, standing on a dim-lit alley corner flipping a nickel in the air with one hand, the other in my pocket, talking out the side of my mouth-- I'm not sure why.]
"I'll take 6 cups!" She said with delight. I vigorously began to fill 6 cups of pink lemonade 3/4 of the way full, handing her each one as I finished. Soon, every child in the wagon had a cool drink. I awaited my prize. She opened her black snap coin purse as I extended my hands in anticipation. As she placed a shimmering dime in my hand, I reached for my jar of change to seal transaction number one. I placed the silver in the jar and began to extend my hand once more, (by now, giving her plenty of time to rummage for 5 more coins) only to find the coin purse not only closed, but hastily being stuffed back into its larger counterpart...I was speechless. I stood there in disbelief, my mind stirring - She couldn't possibly think that it was all 10 cents!? Could She?? She knew it was 10 cents a cup - didn't she?? How could she make that mistake? It's so obvious! Maybe she's getting more change in her car?? I gave her the benefit of the doubt while I stood there, stunned.
"Thank-you!!" She waved, as she closed her car door.
"Thank you!" I answered back, unable to come up with anything better to say.
I was duped! A cute little 6 year old like me! Taken advantage of, by a nice lady in a Ford Station Wagon! I waited until the car was out of sight to pull the sign from the table. I marched back inside, enraged by the previous events. I grabbed my trusty Crayola Marker and altered the sign to it's true intentions: "Lemonade - 10 cents a cup." I sold a few more lemonades before wrapping up sales for the day. I gathered up my meager profits and closed up shop. The recollection of that day's tragic events will forever haunt my memory. I like to think that at some point, sometime, somewhere, she remembers me too - a cute little girl with pigtails, just trying to make ends meet, in the sweltering heat of summer.
Sometimes when life hands you lemons, it's not so easy to make lemonade...I guess you have to hope life also hands you a whole lot of sugar.
Peace out,
H
Sunday, June 8, 2008
The Room Was Filled With Clapter
HERE YOU ARE! I've been looking for you everywhere! ...I should have known you were here all along.
Let me first address the hideous elephant in the website: It has been a while since my last post. I was swamped. I still am, but you are far more important to me than that, and nothing should ever come between us like that again, don't you agree? You made dinner for two and set the table; I said I would call if I was going to be late, and I never did. I do sincerely apologize. I feel as though we are at that place in this literate relationship of ours, where we can forgive and move on...a year from now I imagine we'll all think of this silly happenstance and laugh--you'll see.
In order to regain your gracious trust and faithful attendance, I give a nod today, to you, the reader. Give yourselves a round of applause. Rarely in life do you get the opportunity to applaud your own self, so I suggest you really let loose and give yourself a downright standing ovation; really let yourself have it, really make a scene. You deserve it. Throw in a cheer--a little "woo, woo!" There's no need to explain your completely rational behavior to others. Proudly applaud, and let applaud.
I think there are 3 times in life when we can deservedly and acceptably applaud our behavior...
The first phase of rooting for ourselves begins in our first years of existence, from womb to age 2. As infants, small accomplishments become seemingly enormous and practically super-human feats of strength and agility to our nurturers. The mumbling of a little one's first comprehensive words engages parents, now elated by their little prodigy's new talent, into a raging fit of encouragement--"Look how smart you are! Momma's little Punkin! Yayy!! [clap-clap-clap] Can you say it again? Can you say it again? Yayy! [clap-clap-clap]" Again, the young bundle of joy delivers an encore performance and applauds his new-found skill. The glorious cycle of praise, clapping, and laughter (clapter, if you will), continues: a valid excuse for self-applause.
Perhaps had I known, at such a young age, that being "so big!" was merely an amusing game, I may not have vigorously applauded myself as I did, each time I threw my drool laden hands in the air.
Let me first address the hideous elephant in the website: It has been a while since my last post. I was swamped. I still am, but you are far more important to me than that, and nothing should ever come between us like that again, don't you agree? You made dinner for two and set the table; I said I would call if I was going to be late, and I never did. I do sincerely apologize. I feel as though we are at that place in this literate relationship of ours, where we can forgive and move on...a year from now I imagine we'll all think of this silly happenstance and laugh--you'll see.
In order to regain your gracious trust and faithful attendance, I give a nod today, to you, the reader. Give yourselves a round of applause. Rarely in life do you get the opportunity to applaud your own self, so I suggest you really let loose and give yourself a downright standing ovation; really let yourself have it, really make a scene. You deserve it. Throw in a cheer--a little "woo, woo!" There's no need to explain your completely rational behavior to others. Proudly applaud, and let applaud.
I think there are 3 times in life when we can deservedly and acceptably applaud our behavior...
The first phase of rooting for ourselves begins in our first years of existence, from womb to age 2. As infants, small accomplishments become seemingly enormous and practically super-human feats of strength and agility to our nurturers. The mumbling of a little one's first comprehensive words engages parents, now elated by their little prodigy's new talent, into a raging fit of encouragement--"Look how smart you are! Momma's little Punkin! Yayy!! [clap-clap-clap] Can you say it again? Can you say it again? Yayy! [clap-clap-clap]" Again, the young bundle of joy delivers an encore performance and applauds his new-found skill. The glorious cycle of praise, clapping, and laughter (clapter, if you will), continues: a valid excuse for self-applause.
Perhaps had I known, at such a young age, that being "so big!" was merely an amusing game, I may not have vigorously applauded myself as I did, each time I threw my drool laden hands in the air.
Soon the tot's first birthday arrives, and, of course, this incredible achievement merits an elaborate party. Every year, living rooms across America are filled with droopy Mylar balloons, blue crepe paper that is constantly being re-taped to the textured ceiling, donkey tails pinned in error as a random assortment on the wall, and a clueless 1-year old who has no idea that today is his birthday. "Today is your birthday," we all tell him, "These are your friends." "Yayy!! [clap-clap-clap]" All applaud, the youngster again finds himself gleaming with adoration of his big day. Again, clapping for ones self is in order. And why not? After all, you didn't make it to this day just by inadvertently filling your pants and committing acts of pervasive drooling; it was hard work, and should be rightly rewarded with applause. The cake is wheeled out soon thereafter, with an edible image imprinted into the frosting. "Today is your birthday," he is reminded. Cameras flash from all angles as the birthday boy jubilantly delves into his cake, pausing to applaud his efforts between shoveling cake into every crease of his skin. After Mom whips a freshly damp washcloth from her hip holster, the crowd and the guest of honor again applaud his cleanliness.
Every word of this example, by the way, is strikingly identical to your last few birthdays in life..."Today is your birthday, these are your friends." And you you didn't make it to that day just by inadvertently filling your pants and committing acts of pervasive drooling, either (Depend, anyone?). Again, one's own applause is completely acceptable.
The second acceptable self-applause phase is when the child grows up and enters the world of business. Approximately 1/4 of a working man's work week is consumed by meetings (although more often than not, 3/4 of the attendees have no idea why they are there). With suit and tie in check, a keynote speaker enters the room. All involved scribble notes into a notepad (always with a "clicky" style pen, never another kind), and exchange ideas on how to improve the net growth of banana sales, or how to reduce the environmental impact of plastic wrappers, or why clicky-style pens are such a necessity. The discussion ends, and the room breaks out in every one's own applause, which is always preceded by "Nice work, everyone. Let's break for lunch [clap-clap-clap]."
The third phase, of course, is when you faithfully return here to frequently read by daily shenanigans. My fellow readers, I thank you. Give yourselves a round of applause. You deserve it.
Peace out,
H
Every word of this example, by the way, is strikingly identical to your last few birthdays in life..."Today is your birthday, these are your friends." And you you didn't make it to that day just by inadvertently filling your pants and committing acts of pervasive drooling, either (Depend, anyone?). Again, one's own applause is completely acceptable.
The second acceptable self-applause phase is when the child grows up and enters the world of business. Approximately 1/4 of a working man's work week is consumed by meetings (although more often than not, 3/4 of the attendees have no idea why they are there). With suit and tie in check, a keynote speaker enters the room. All involved scribble notes into a notepad (always with a "clicky" style pen, never another kind), and exchange ideas on how to improve the net growth of banana sales, or how to reduce the environmental impact of plastic wrappers, or why clicky-style pens are such a necessity. The discussion ends, and the room breaks out in every one's own applause, which is always preceded by "Nice work, everyone. Let's break for lunch [clap-clap-clap]."
The third phase, of course, is when you faithfully return here to frequently read by daily shenanigans. My fellow readers, I thank you. Give yourselves a round of applause. You deserve it.
Peace out,
H
Friday, May 2, 2008
With Deepest Sympathy
Welcome back!
With finals coming up, I regretfully failed to update the blog for today... I will post a double post tonight.
Peace Out,
H
With finals coming up, I regretfully failed to update the blog for today... I will post a double post tonight.
Peace Out,
H
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
This doesn't look too dangerous...
Welcome back! I was wondering what took you so long!
Today was a gorgeous day... the temperature reached a cool 64 degrees fahrenheit (Go USA!) low winds, high visibility, barometric pressure was at "who knows, who cares" inches, humidity at 46%, dew point was "does it really matter?"degrees, UV index was low, and we had a delightful and light sprinkling of rain this morning. These are the prime ingredients for a delicious cookie of a day.
I was thinking these very thoughts as I made my way to my truck in the MSU parking lot after class today, when they were confirmed by a fellow passer-by:
"Beautiful day today, isn't it?!"
I turned my head to soak up his words and saw an elderly gentleman with a blue vest and a green flannel shirt. He looked like a friendly old codger.
I agreed, "It's a gorgeous day! I hope it stays this way now, until summer."
"Ha!" he quipped. "Famous last words."
We parted ways.
I spent a rather large chunk of the day analyzing his final comment. Everyone who ever lived and died has said his or her last words. What did they choose? Why are some famous? It seems as though the most famous of all last words are one of three things: 1) profound, 2)hilarious, or 3) idiotic. The great minds of this earth have muttered famous soliloquies with their final heartbeats. Great comedians thought quickly on their feet even when they were not, and left the world with their comedic legacy in-tact. This being said, the latter of the three, I can only imagine, would be the easiest to accomplish in a near-death situation (bear in mind, as well, that the idiotic phrase that was said, is usually an indication of the cause of death in the first place). Let's examine these probable last words:
Which wire was I supposed to cut?
I wonder where the mother bear is.
I've seen this done on TV a thousand times.
These are the good kind of mushrooms.
Ok, I'll hold it and you light the fuse.
You look just like Charles Manson.
Let it down slowly...
So, you're a cannibal.
This tastes funny.
Are you kidding me? I can do that with my eyes closed.
Bring me that knife, I want to try something.
Oh, don't be so superstitious.
Watch this!
I can pass this guy.
Nice Doggy.
I think it's trying to communicate!
Of course it's sturdy, I built it myself!
I don't think it's as deep as it looks.
Ooh... this thing has got to be dead.
I don't know, press the button and find out.
Let's split up, we'll cover more ground.
Don't worry, it's not contagious.
And you're sure the power is off?
How do you work this thing?
Trust me, I know what I'm doing.
Don't worry, we outnumber them.
What's that beeping sound?
What's this do?
I'm sure it's just the wind.
There's no way this could get any worse.
Well! There's only one way to find out!
I know this great short-cut we can take.
I'll fix it, I'll fix it.
The expiration date was yesterday, I'm sure it's still fine.
No, we're not stopping to ask for directions.
Does this look infected to you?
Just patch it for now.
I think we can wait and fill up at the next station.
Don't worry, this thing hasn't worked in a long time.
Just get up on the cabinet and reach as far as you can.
Don't turn it on until I tell you to.
If you're concerned you will not memorably leave your mark on this world, you could do what I do...I say idiotic things all the time, just incase they are my last, I have a greater chance of them reaching fame status. "I'm just leaving my mark on the world!" Perhaps your last words will be "Wow, that was such a great blog."
Peace out,
H
Today was a gorgeous day... the temperature reached a cool 64 degrees fahrenheit (Go USA!) low winds, high visibility, barometric pressure was at "who knows, who cares" inches, humidity at 46%, dew point was "does it really matter?"degrees, UV index was low, and we had a delightful and light sprinkling of rain this morning. These are the prime ingredients for a delicious cookie of a day.
I was thinking these very thoughts as I made my way to my truck in the MSU parking lot after class today, when they were confirmed by a fellow passer-by:
"Beautiful day today, isn't it?!"
I turned my head to soak up his words and saw an elderly gentleman with a blue vest and a green flannel shirt. He looked like a friendly old codger.
I agreed, "It's a gorgeous day! I hope it stays this way now, until summer."
"Ha!" he quipped. "Famous last words."
We parted ways.
I spent a rather large chunk of the day analyzing his final comment. Everyone who ever lived and died has said his or her last words. What did they choose? Why are some famous? It seems as though the most famous of all last words are one of three things: 1) profound, 2)hilarious, or 3) idiotic. The great minds of this earth have muttered famous soliloquies with their final heartbeats. Great comedians thought quickly on their feet even when they were not, and left the world with their comedic legacy in-tact. This being said, the latter of the three, I can only imagine, would be the easiest to accomplish in a near-death situation (bear in mind, as well, that the idiotic phrase that was said, is usually an indication of the cause of death in the first place). Let's examine these probable last words:
Which wire was I supposed to cut?
I wonder where the mother bear is.
I've seen this done on TV a thousand times.
These are the good kind of mushrooms.
Ok, I'll hold it and you light the fuse.
You look just like Charles Manson.
Let it down slowly...
So, you're a cannibal.
This tastes funny.
Are you kidding me? I can do that with my eyes closed.
Bring me that knife, I want to try something.
Oh, don't be so superstitious.
Watch this!
I can pass this guy.
Nice Doggy.
I think it's trying to communicate!
Of course it's sturdy, I built it myself!
I don't think it's as deep as it looks.
Ooh... this thing has got to be dead.
I don't know, press the button and find out.
Let's split up, we'll cover more ground.
Don't worry, it's not contagious.
And you're sure the power is off?
How do you work this thing?
Trust me, I know what I'm doing.
Don't worry, we outnumber them.
What's that beeping sound?
What's this do?
I'm sure it's just the wind.
There's no way this could get any worse.
Well! There's only one way to find out!
I know this great short-cut we can take.
I'll fix it, I'll fix it.
The expiration date was yesterday, I'm sure it's still fine.
No, we're not stopping to ask for directions.
Does this look infected to you?
Just patch it for now.
I think we can wait and fill up at the next station.
Don't worry, this thing hasn't worked in a long time.
Just get up on the cabinet and reach as far as you can.
Don't turn it on until I tell you to.
If you're concerned you will not memorably leave your mark on this world, you could do what I do...I say idiotic things all the time, just incase they are my last, I have a greater chance of them reaching fame status. "I'm just leaving my mark on the world!" Perhaps your last words will be "Wow, that was such a great blog."
Peace out,
H
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go
Welcome back to the blog. It's just not the same without you here.
It seems as though the sun rose ferociously early this morning. I broke out in a lash of disgust and anguish for my tormentingly sweltering covers as I felt Mr. Sun's fiery rays bearing down on me in my state of sleep. I glared out the window with one eye partially open, my right cheek still smashed into my pillow, "I bet you think you're funny, don't you, sun?!" I said with reluctance. He just beamed. Being the morning person that I am, I followed suit and awoke at the crack of dawn: a stifling 10:30am. I say if people were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters. "Morning People" as they are lovingly referred to, only comprise approximately 10% of Earth's population...that's 1 out of every 10 people...one of whom, lives with me. I'm not convinced they are a necessary breed...perhaps only so there is someone to tell me 'good morning' as I awake...but tell me 'good morning' before I awake and you're in for a rude awakening... mine. Years ago while traveling, I was once greeted with a 6:00am 'Carpe Diem!'. Well, 'Carpe Diem' at 6:00am does not make me want to seize the day. It makes me want to slap a dead poet.
There is a story of a Chinese man who had himself wakened three times every morning simply for the pleasure of being told it was not yet time to get up. I don't know who or where you are sir, but brav-o. There is no greater sigh of relief after throwing yourself awake to the possible horror of oversleeping, only to discover the clock reads a heavenly 2:00am... we've all been there at some point.
The only time I am fine with dawn, is if I'm still up. Benjamin Franklin said, "Early morning hath gold in its mouth." ...Gold? More like bad breath.
Nonetheless by the grace of God, I miraculously found my way out of my bedroom and into the hallway. I grabbed the fluffiest towel I could find (the fluffier, the better...naturally) and stumbled into the bathroom for my daily cleansing ritual, known to some as a "shower". I ran the water to my desired temperature, and the ritual began. I squeezed the shampoo bottle (attention shampoo/conditioner manufacturers: If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: If you want me to lather, rinse, and in fact repeat, make the bottle out of a substance that ensures maximum grip. A lathered hand is a slippery hand), and began step one as directed. As my Garnier Fructis Fortifying Shampoo began to work its magic (you're welcome, Garnier), I reasoned that I could tolerate the water temperature to be kicked up a few notches. I clumsily decided that the perfect moment to adjust the knob was the exact moment that the sudsy wash oozed into my eyes and partially blinded me. I blindly reached for the knob and turned it. In a flash, I turned from contently humming "zip-a-dee-doo-dah" to a unbelievably frigid state of bodily shock in an icy rain. Almost instantaneously, I shrieked from the depths of my lungs and leaped out of the shower in a way that would have put Kermit to an embarrassing shame. After regaining my breath, my composure, and my normal flesh color, I--quite thoroughly alert now, mind you--returned the knob up to its originally intended degree and brought my cleansing session to a close. I swaddled myself in the fluffy towel, shuffled back to my room, and believe it or not, found something to wear. I grabbed my school bag, hopped in the car, rolled the window down, cranked up the radio (mostly so I look cool while driving), stopped at the holy temple called Pita Pit, and cruised off to school.
Today is Tuesday--SEM lab day: I sit in a dark room and recalculate mineral equations based on x-ray microanalyses graphs from the energy dispersive spectrometer for my sample. In layman's terms: I squint at the computer for a few hours. Each day I comprehend a little bit more, and that is sufficient for me...one thing at a time. I will continue to take life one day at a time until I don't have any more days left...or until I run out of mornings, whichever comes first.
Peace out,
H
It seems as though the sun rose ferociously early this morning. I broke out in a lash of disgust and anguish for my tormentingly sweltering covers as I felt Mr. Sun's fiery rays bearing down on me in my state of sleep. I glared out the window with one eye partially open, my right cheek still smashed into my pillow, "I bet you think you're funny, don't you, sun?!" I said with reluctance. He just beamed. Being the morning person that I am, I followed suit and awoke at the crack of dawn: a stifling 10:30am. I say if people were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters. "Morning People" as they are lovingly referred to, only comprise approximately 10% of Earth's population...that's 1 out of every 10 people...one of whom, lives with me. I'm not convinced they are a necessary breed...perhaps only so there is someone to tell me 'good morning' as I awake...but tell me 'good morning' before I awake and you're in for a rude awakening... mine. Years ago while traveling, I was once greeted with a 6:00am 'Carpe Diem!'. Well, 'Carpe Diem' at 6:00am does not make me want to seize the day. It makes me want to slap a dead poet.
There is a story of a Chinese man who had himself wakened three times every morning simply for the pleasure of being told it was not yet time to get up. I don't know who or where you are sir, but brav-o. There is no greater sigh of relief after throwing yourself awake to the possible horror of oversleeping, only to discover the clock reads a heavenly 2:00am... we've all been there at some point.
The only time I am fine with dawn, is if I'm still up. Benjamin Franklin said, "Early morning hath gold in its mouth." ...Gold? More like bad breath.
Nonetheless by the grace of God, I miraculously found my way out of my bedroom and into the hallway. I grabbed the fluffiest towel I could find (the fluffier, the better...naturally) and stumbled into the bathroom for my daily cleansing ritual, known to some as a "shower". I ran the water to my desired temperature, and the ritual began. I squeezed the shampoo bottle (attention shampoo/conditioner manufacturers: If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: If you want me to lather, rinse, and in fact repeat, make the bottle out of a substance that ensures maximum grip. A lathered hand is a slippery hand), and began step one as directed. As my Garnier Fructis Fortifying Shampoo began to work its magic (you're welcome, Garnier), I reasoned that I could tolerate the water temperature to be kicked up a few notches. I clumsily decided that the perfect moment to adjust the knob was the exact moment that the sudsy wash oozed into my eyes and partially blinded me. I blindly reached for the knob and turned it. In a flash, I turned from contently humming "zip-a-dee-doo-dah" to a unbelievably frigid state of bodily shock in an icy rain. Almost instantaneously, I shrieked from the depths of my lungs and leaped out of the shower in a way that would have put Kermit to an embarrassing shame. After regaining my breath, my composure, and my normal flesh color, I--quite thoroughly alert now, mind you--returned the knob up to its originally intended degree and brought my cleansing session to a close. I swaddled myself in the fluffy towel, shuffled back to my room, and believe it or not, found something to wear. I grabbed my school bag, hopped in the car, rolled the window down, cranked up the radio (mostly so I look cool while driving), stopped at the holy temple called Pita Pit, and cruised off to school.
Today is Tuesday--SEM lab day: I sit in a dark room and recalculate mineral equations based on x-ray microanalyses graphs from the energy dispersive spectrometer for my sample. In layman's terms: I squint at the computer for a few hours. Each day I comprehend a little bit more, and that is sufficient for me...one thing at a time. I will continue to take life one day at a time until I don't have any more days left...or until I run out of mornings, whichever comes first.
Peace out,
H
Monday, April 28, 2008
Procrastinators Unite! ...Tomorrow
Welcome back. I'm glad you're here again, I missed seeing your smiling face.
Who doesn't love a Monday?!? It's a day to start fresh, a day to organize tasks for the week ahead, a day to prepare. It's also a day to work faster than the Andretti boys to hurry up and finish what you should have completed Friday afternoon. I myself am no stranger to this thing we call procrastination. In fact, I like to think I excel at it...one of the greats, if you will (and indeed, you will)...I am the Wayne Gretzky, Michael Jordon, Babe Ruth, Socrates, and Walt Disney himself of "saving tasks for a later date." One day perhaps others will be known as the "Heather Fogarty" of hockey, basketball, baseball, philosophy, and imagination.
I like to think of procrastination as something of an art form, to be perfected. It is the art of keeping up with yesterday. I feel it is the key to prolonging life; the sooner I fall behind, the more time I have to catch up. It is the greatest labor-saving invention of all time! I hope Mr. Procrast is a rich and happy man, may we all pay homage. "Someday" is, in fact, a day of the week.
It is imperative that skeptics understand the notion that if not for the last minute, we procrastinators would finish nothing. I do my best work under pressure. If deadlines are met, there is no issue of a problem. We procrastinators--the good ones--have calculated to the exact hundredth of a second, precisely how much time we have until we do need to desperately get to work, and will not lift a finger until such a moment. It is an exact science of pure quantitative analyses of time. I am therefore a scientist, a procrastologist, and have no quibbles regarding other procrastinators out there, who call themselves the same. Paging Doctor Fogarty...
For those of you students who favor the last minute lifestyle, I have compiled a timeline that will aid you in your next assignment. Take Notes:
1)Sit in a straight, comfortable chair in a well lit setting in front of your computer.
2)Log onto MSN and Yahoo messenger (on "away" status, of course).
3)Read over the assignment carefully, to make certain you understand it.
4)Check the fridge and cupboard to obtain the snacks and drinks necessary to aid in concentration of completing your project.
5)Check your email--Any important messages should be taken care of immediately... You don't need that hanging over your head while you try to focus on your work.
6)Call up a friend and ask if he/she wants to go to grab a cup of Joe. There is certainly no use in getting started if you don't have enough fuel to make it through the night.
7)When you get back to your room...sit straight, comfortable chair, well lit place.
8)Read over the assignment again to make absolutely certain you understand it. You would hate to do all that work for nothing.
9)Check your email.
10)You know, you haven’t written to that kid you met at camp since fourth grade. You’d better write that letter now and get it out of the way so you can concentrate.
11) You notice there is something in your teeth, better extract that or it will bother you the whole time. 5 minutes in the mirror will suffice.
12)Download a few new tunes off of itunes... the atmosphere has to promote work.
13)Check your email.
14) Check Time and Temp. Maybe it will snow tonight and school will be cancelled.
15)Check your email.
16)Check your phone - no one is urgently trying to reach you, are they?
17)Call another friend with the same assignment and ask if she’s started writing yet. Exchange derogatory remarks about your professor, the course, the college, the world at large.
18)Walk to the store and buy a pack of gum. You’ve probably run out by now.
19)While you’ve got the gum you may as well buy a magazine and read it, you hate to break a $20 just for a pack of gum. It's nice to stretch your legs, anyway.
20)Check your email.
21)Check the newspaper listings to make sure you aren’t missing something truly worthwhile on TV.
22)Play some solitaire.
23)Stretch.
24)Refill your beverage.
25)Call up a friend to see how much they have done, probably haven’t started either.
26)Check email.
27)Sit down and do some serious thinking about your plans for the future. It's never to early to start thinking about that!
28)Check your school's webpage. There could be some important information on there that you need to know.
29)Check your email.
30)You should be rebooting by now, assuming that windows is crashing on schedule.
31)Read over the assignment one more time, just for the heck of it.
32)Scoot your chair across the room to the window and watch the sunrise.
33)Lie face down on the floor and moan.
34)Visualize yourself doing the project.
35)Check your email.
36)Mumble.
37)5am - start hacking on the paper without stopping. 6am -paper is finished.
38)Complain to everyone that you didn’t get any sleep because you had to stay up all night to write that stupid paper.
39) Hand it in.
40) Sleep the rest of the day.
This is how it's done. If you truly want to be a procrastologist, you may have to learn a thing or 2 from me. But there's no need to start now... try a Monday.
Peace out,
H
Who doesn't love a Monday?!? It's a day to start fresh, a day to organize tasks for the week ahead, a day to prepare. It's also a day to work faster than the Andretti boys to hurry up and finish what you should have completed Friday afternoon. I myself am no stranger to this thing we call procrastination. In fact, I like to think I excel at it...one of the greats, if you will (and indeed, you will)...I am the Wayne Gretzky, Michael Jordon, Babe Ruth, Socrates, and Walt Disney himself of "saving tasks for a later date." One day perhaps others will be known as the "Heather Fogarty" of hockey, basketball, baseball, philosophy, and imagination.
I like to think of procrastination as something of an art form, to be perfected. It is the art of keeping up with yesterday. I feel it is the key to prolonging life; the sooner I fall behind, the more time I have to catch up. It is the greatest labor-saving invention of all time! I hope Mr. Procrast is a rich and happy man, may we all pay homage. "Someday" is, in fact, a day of the week.
It is imperative that skeptics understand the notion that if not for the last minute, we procrastinators would finish nothing. I do my best work under pressure. If deadlines are met, there is no issue of a problem. We procrastinators--the good ones--have calculated to the exact hundredth of a second, precisely how much time we have until we do need to desperately get to work, and will not lift a finger until such a moment. It is an exact science of pure quantitative analyses of time. I am therefore a scientist, a procrastologist, and have no quibbles regarding other procrastinators out there, who call themselves the same. Paging Doctor Fogarty...
For those of you students who favor the last minute lifestyle, I have compiled a timeline that will aid you in your next assignment. Take Notes:
1)Sit in a straight, comfortable chair in a well lit setting in front of your computer.
2)Log onto MSN and Yahoo messenger (on "away" status, of course).
3)Read over the assignment carefully, to make certain you understand it.
4)Check the fridge and cupboard to obtain the snacks and drinks necessary to aid in concentration of completing your project.
5)Check your email--Any important messages should be taken care of immediately... You don't need that hanging over your head while you try to focus on your work.
6)Call up a friend and ask if he/she wants to go to grab a cup of Joe. There is certainly no use in getting started if you don't have enough fuel to make it through the night.
7)When you get back to your room...sit straight, comfortable chair, well lit place.
8)Read over the assignment again to make absolutely certain you understand it. You would hate to do all that work for nothing.
9)Check your email.
10)You know, you haven’t written to that kid you met at camp since fourth grade. You’d better write that letter now and get it out of the way so you can concentrate.
11) You notice there is something in your teeth, better extract that or it will bother you the whole time. 5 minutes in the mirror will suffice.
12)Download a few new tunes off of itunes... the atmosphere has to promote work.
13)Check your email.
14) Check Time and Temp. Maybe it will snow tonight and school will be cancelled.
15)Check your email.
16)Check your phone - no one is urgently trying to reach you, are they?
17)Call another friend with the same assignment and ask if she’s started writing yet. Exchange derogatory remarks about your professor, the course, the college, the world at large.
18)Walk to the store and buy a pack of gum. You’ve probably run out by now.
19)While you’ve got the gum you may as well buy a magazine and read it, you hate to break a $20 just for a pack of gum. It's nice to stretch your legs, anyway.
20)Check your email.
21)Check the newspaper listings to make sure you aren’t missing something truly worthwhile on TV.
22)Play some solitaire.
23)Stretch.
24)Refill your beverage.
25)Call up a friend to see how much they have done, probably haven’t started either.
26)Check email.
27)Sit down and do some serious thinking about your plans for the future. It's never to early to start thinking about that!
28)Check your school's webpage. There could be some important information on there that you need to know.
29)Check your email.
30)You should be rebooting by now, assuming that windows is crashing on schedule.
31)Read over the assignment one more time, just for the heck of it.
32)Scoot your chair across the room to the window and watch the sunrise.
33)Lie face down on the floor and moan.
34)Visualize yourself doing the project.
35)Check your email.
36)Mumble.
37)5am - start hacking on the paper without stopping. 6am -paper is finished.
38)Complain to everyone that you didn’t get any sleep because you had to stay up all night to write that stupid paper.
39) Hand it in.
40) Sleep the rest of the day.
This is how it's done. If you truly want to be a procrastologist, you may have to learn a thing or 2 from me. But there's no need to start now... try a Monday.
Peace out,
H
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