Dear Barack,
Thank you so much for taking the time to email me yesterday. I know how busy you must be dealing with all those dips–ts in Congress.
Reading your email, I believe in the possibilities ahead of us all over again. I can almost hear you speaking the words, heartfelt and powerful. And though I hate the word “management,” I’ve still got your back.
Thank you,
i’m so not a hipster
Right now there’s this “25 things” going around Facebook — I’ve received three in the past week alone. The idea is you write down 25 things (typically quirky) about yourself, tag 25 of your friends, and then they read your list and make their own. So, here’s mine, Facebook-free.
1. I hate Facebook.
2. Ok, I kinda like it sometimes. I like knowing what friends who don’t ever email are doing, or where they are in the world. And it’s nice to see their pics.
3. But more often than not, I hate it.
4. Apparently almost 1.5 million others also hate it, and they’ve joined the I Hate the New Facebook group on Facebook.
5. Why do people email THROUGH Facebook? I’m not sure what this accomplishes, except possibly giving details contained in our emails to corporations.
6. I don’t buy that Facebook is no longer doing what they used to be doing (see No. 4). Even if they’re not doing it intentionally. It can’t be that hard to skim the content off my pages and emails.
7. One thing the email feature does accomplish is getting me to waste a lot of time. I go there to respond to an email and end up spending more time than I’m willing to admit looking at friend’s photos.
8. CNN cohosted debates with Facebook in November. How is this still a relevant site?! CNN is so not cool.
9. What the hell is a Slayer’s Invitation?
10. Facebook statuses: I never update mine. As in, not since I joined Facebook in 2007 as a way to share photos. So, no, I’m not still in Ecuador. I could make up anything on these. In fact, I’m going to change my sex to Male and age to 50 and see if anyone comments on it.
11. About two months ago, business networking invaded Facebook — at least, my Facebook. I’ve received friend requests from old clients. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but, come on! Again, how is this still a cool site to be on?
12. What are the ads in the sidebar based on? Right now, I have an ATV ad, a guitar course ad and a domain name registration ad. All in Spanish.
13. When you don’t click Ignore or Accept to an invite to add someone as your friend, is that worse than clicking Ignore? I just don’t know what to do with people I’ve met once or twice who have found me on Facebook. I’m not that comfortable with them knowing that much about me.
14. I’ve heard of Facebook friend contests. I’ve also heard that Burger King ran a promo recently that gave you a free burger or something if you de-friended 10 Facebook friends. Brilliant.
15. Writing on walls: I hate that everyone (in your friends) can read what everyone else writes. No privacy!
16. When I declared Facebook was no longer cool in November (see No. 6), my coworkers exclaimed, “You’re such a hipster!” My response: I’M NOT A HIPSTER!
17. Ok, 25 things is waaay too many. I guess I don’t hate Facebook that much. Just 17 or so much.
My desk at home faces a window, which looks out onto the street in front of our house and the neighbor’s driveway. From that driveway, the neighbor’s little puffy dog bolts down from the house sometime every morning, and then wanders around the yard, chasing squirrels and barking high-pitched, wanna-be tough yips at cars. Last week, a couple people walked along their sidewalk while he was out, and sure enough, when the little fur ball spotted them, he bee-lined their way, yapping away at their heels until they left the neighbor’s property line.
I’m pretty sure I’ve seen stuffed animals that could double for him. He’s pretty brave until Hanu, who’s about five times his size, comes bowling over to say hello.
Walking into the PSU campus yesterday morning, I felt like I was 10 again, trudging through the snow-covered sidewalks in Minnesota to reach the bus stop. Having lived out of the snow for several years, I’m enjoying some of the gorgeous, quiet winter moments I had forgotten.
The still silence of a snowfall.
The sparkling flakes falling through a streetlight at night, looking for all the world as if there was glitter coming from the sky.
Branches heavy with snow, bowing under the weight.
The feathered frost that creeps across your window.
The first step into the frigid air that takes your breath away.
I went into Backspace while I was in Portland in December to look for hipsters I could sneakily take pictures of. Apparently, 9 a.m. is too early for the usual hipster scene at Backspace. I did get a photo of the awesome art that was up.
“What do you think?” the barista asked me.
“I think the artist must have been angry,” I said. “Looks like blood coming from their heads cut off.”
“Umm, actually it’s about the creativity inside you and everything you have to offer,” he said.
Oh. Either way, pretty cool.
After finishing my second round with the GRE, I headed toward Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for a tango festival and stopped for the night in Bedford, PA.
Driving into the town (pop. 3,000) off I-76, a roller rink’s old-fashioned sign beckoned for a photo op. A bit further, I spotted Judy’s Motel, where I would be staying, but decided to keep going to see the downtown. I was rewarded with the sight of a Jesus is King neon sign, and a cute, compact downtown that was mostly closed. After motel check-in, I headed back downtown for some grub. I hit up Giant Eagle, and found their deli had only three pieces of chicken and sides of things covered in mayonnaise. On to Bedford Hotel and Tavern, I sat down to reward my months of study with a good meal.
1. A beer to fit in. Granted, I didn’t see anyone else drinking beer, but coca-cola didn’t seem celebratory enough.
2. Crab legs. I did see other people ordering these! And thanks to my aunt from Georgia, I knew (kinda) how to eat them. Although they didn’t give me the little tiny fork thing, so I ended up cracking, pulling and dripping all over myself. I’m pretty sure eating crab legs are made out to be sexy in movies, but my experiences was more like the scene from Naked Gun 2 1/2 when Det. Frank Drebin tries splitting the crab legs and ends up shooting the thing everywhere but in his mouth.
3. A heated-up caramel covered brownie. They didn’t have any to-go forks, but who cares? I was celebratin’.
Seconds after the NYC ball dropped for the third time in the States for Denver’s New Year’s Eve, some lady came on the screen and started getting hot n’ heavy with Dick Clark. Who was the mystery woman? we wondered — albeit, a bit unclearly after a couple hours of champagne-vodka-wine-beer. Charo? His wife? It was sweet and a bit much, all at once. (Answer: His wife.)
And who were the people out there with Ryan Seacrest? None of the five of us could identify a single person except Lionel Richie. After the ball dropped, the blonde yelled that this was a life changing moment for her. Darling, you’re not doing blondes any good by talking if that’s what you’re going to contribute. Turns out her name is Taylor Swift, a teen country star rumored at some time to be dating one of the Jonas Brothers, which happened to the the other people on stage that I also didn’t recognize. Although, apparently they are big enough stars to create a security concern. Who are these people?! Actually, thinking about it, I’m quite happy that I had no idea.
Back in State College, one of the first things I heard about was the Christmas lights extravaganza going on right around the corner from our house.
From inside our house, you just barely hear it — it feels a little like having Christmas music inside your brain. Must. Drum. Pa-pum.
A friend noted today that neither I nor Obama has blogged since the election. Now, for Obama, that’s understandable. He has had one or two minor details to attend to since early November. These are my excuses:
No. 1: The f*%#ing GRE. When in my life am I going to use the formula for the equation of a line? Never! I can’t imagine a single situation. If I’m wrong, I will print out this blog on a piece of paper and eat it. If, by the time that happens, we no longer have paper, I will lick the computer screen.
No. 2: Work. Which has been crazy (say it in a high-pitched voice for full effect). In fact, I think I’m going to take my name and picture off this blog so I can kinda anonymously write about it because it’s THAT off-the-hook insane.
No. 3: Traveling to Dan’s family’s house for Thanksgiving and winning Texas Hold ‘Em tournaments (OK, coming in No. 2 one of the nights we played, thanks to Grandpa’s years of tutelage. )
No. 4: Bouncing over to Portland to see friends, put in some face time at work and spoil my friend’s brand-new baby. Or at least threaten to.
Tomorrow I’m planning to swing by the Mississippi area — I spotted a sign on a garage last week that said “This way to hipsterville!” and had an arrow pointing down the street. I need a picture before I head back to the hipster-free zone that is central PA.
Now that Obama is our president, I’ll have to find something else to obsessively follow. The Onion captured this post-election crisis very well. I loved their take on the aftermath, because it’s kinda true — I read nothing but The Huffington Post during the last two months, told at least five campaign-related stories a day to Dan and anyone else who would listen, and got upset when anyone tried to be the voice of reason. Yesterday I caught myself going through withdrawl: I was relishing the campaign gossip about Palin throwing tantrums and not knowing that Africa is a continent.
On Tueday, every minute I spent volunteering was worth it. I knocked on doors to remind people to vote, I brought food and water to people waiting in long lines, and then knocked on more doors an hour before the polls closed. Everyone who has been in State College for more than one election remarked on how they’ve never seen any lines to vote before, let alone ones that were hours long.
The atmosphere in the State College Dems HQ was cautiously opptimistic. We had at least 60 volunteers making signs, manning phones, canvassing and coordinating. A couple drove all the way from Delaware (five hours) to help out. A 70-something-year-old man who canvanassed with my group yelled to every person we passed, asking if they had voted yet, even chasing down the FedEx woman who was just delivering a package.
After the last canvass shift at 7 p.m., we had nothing to do but wait. Another canvasser and I headed down to the democrats’ party location to watch results come in. As more volunteers started streaming in, a lone table of McCain supporters recognized they were in the wrong place. With every win, we cheered, plotted the route to victory — and then, there it was.
If you haven’t watched it yet, Obama’s victory speech in Chicago (Part 1, Part 2) might just bring you to tears.