JAIME

To Move or Not to Move...

2011-08-03T12:30:00.003-04:00

... That is the question. Whether it is nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of space boredom, and treacherously long bike commutes, or to take up arms against furniture rearrangement and wall recovering.

Life is re-inventing itself at every corner as I hold on for dear life around the bends. A cubical sits empty, a rolley chair remains stationary in a midtown office space. Conversely, I don't stop moving. My extreme unsatisfaction and frustration marched itself into my bosses office and announced that we were leaving. Four Months later, we find ourselves working in a small business home office in Prospect Heights and bartending. Four months finds us restless again.

Ironically, leaving the day job to have more time for creatives, leaves only time to work toward our original salary.

Is moving just me looking for a new creative project to distract me from not working on creative projects? How does one begin getting things started? How do we start writing? How do we record that song? How do we film that webisode? Where do we find the time? How do we give ourselves a break and forgive our impatience? our inactivity? our need to snack or nap?

Hopefully I can figure it out and share my success stories, or we can fall into failure together one funny story, one PB&J, one failed home kombucha brewing company at a time.

News in Brooklyn

2008-05-22T13:50:00.002-04:00

Happy Birthday, Brooklyn Bridge!

So according to an article, sent by Dana, some of the developments down by Myrtle & Flatbush may house the new cast of the Real World:

"The group passed the 1930 art deco telephone company tower recently converted into the BellTel Lofts, rumored to be home to the upcoming Brooklyn edition of MTV's reality show "The Real World." At the Fulton Street Mall, the group swung east, easily outnumbered by throngs of shoppers. A few Mennonites visiting from Virginia, the women with their hair covered in prayer caps, eagerly snapped pictures of the band."

Here is the full text of the article if you want to read - it's long but interesting if you want to know more about the developments going on in the area...

http://www.brooklyndowntownstar.com/StoryDisplay.asp?PID=4&NewsStoryID=7914

I pray that the creators of the Real World choose amongst the other scouted Brooklyn areas. GO to Coney Island!

Good Lord!

2008-05-13T13:58:00.001-04:00

http://gawker.com/389919/our-plan-for-the-real-world-brooklyn

Hide!

Breath

2008-05-13T11:16:00.002-04:00

It has been sometime since I posted last. All I can say is that I have been on the move, quite literally. I have just rounded out my mini US tour, visiting friends and getting into trouble. Now that I'm home in NYC it is time to breathe and more importantly, sleep.

I promise to post the highlights of my coast to coast hi-jinx soon. Until then, please think of me fondly and enjoy this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrkKwjCnIpY

Strong Little Woman

2008-04-11T15:11:00.002-04:00

8-year-old girl asks for divorce in court
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By: Hamed Thabet

SANA’A, April 9 - An eight-year-old girl decided last week to go the Sana’a West Court to prosecute her father, who forced her to marry a 30-year-old man.

http://yementimes.com/article.shtml?i=1145&p=front&a=2

This is a true testiment that we can all get through the worst of times.

Metaphorical

2008-04-11T12:27:00.000-04:00

Dear reader, please enjoy this informative link provided by Abby this morning. If your Thursday night took you to similar places we have seen you will be thanking me (please refer to the possible remedies section.)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hangover

Like the warming strong burst of spring, sailing us briskly into summer, our night spent playing records for bar patrons went out like a lion. Though fierce, this lion can also be cuddly, pacified by a good scratch behind the ears, and enjoys his drink. Although you can’t help but wonder, when said lion has given you a congratulatory pat on the face (for a night well spent), he hasn’t just taken the whole thing off. So, faceless, aching ever where, you stumble weak-kneed toward your office, smarting yet fondly remembering the cuddly moments.

It’s up to you egg sandwich. Work you magic.

Cosmic Brain Waves

2008-04-10T11:25:00.003-04:00

I had a jarring awake dream last night about a deadly tornado.
I woke up to this morning's news report about weather related destruction.

Spooky.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/weather/04/10/midwest.storms.ap/index.html

Animals are Better than Humans Series

2008-04-10T09:55:00.003-04:00

Actually both human and animal shine in this story.
(an oldie but a goodie)

several years ago this woman found a sick, malnourished lion cub in
the jungle. She took the cub home and fed him and brought him up until
he was too big to keep anymore. She made arrangements with a zoo in
Colombia to take the lion.

This is the video of what happened when she went to visit him in the
zoo for the first time.

http://www.telestereo.com/Archivos/video.swf_http://www.telestereo.com/Archivos/video.swf_

http://www.therandomforest.com/2008/03/17/lion-hugging-woman/

It's a bird...It's a Plane...It's Mass Cancelations

2008-04-09T11:23:00.002-04:00

I hope you don't have to go anywhere that your feet or mass transit cannot take you. American Airlines (along with other airlines) has now canceled up to 850 flights. The FAA is cracking down, y'all, and has forced the airlines to ground planes so that the electrical wiring can be properly inspected. There will be no more tragedies on their hands, except the uproarious cries of stranded passengers littering the terminals through out the metropolitan area.

My New York escape plan invovles multiple flights on jet liners. I only hope this has been cleared up by the time I need to scoot.

Fare thee well, weary travelers.

Tattoos are Forever

2008-04-08T17:48:00.001-04:00

Work has me by the toe.
Talk amongst yourselves.

Photo Week in Review: In RED

2008-04-07T19:33:00.005-04:00

The Kids are all Grown Up...and Now Old

2008-04-04T14:02:00.003-04:00

Everyone get your over sized t-shirts and leggins out of storage, New Kids On the Block, or their preferred NKOTB, are reuniting. This begs the question: Why?

http://www.nkotb.com/

They have a blog and everything...but who doesn't, right?

In other music news, I saw Helio Sequence last night at Bowery Ballroom. (Photos to follow) The drummer is insane. They won my heart with their live performance. My fellow show goers saw Beach House there the previous evening and said they were equally impressive. They report that couples across the Ballroom started making out as the band began to play. Magical.

And now, I'm off into the rain to wash away the morning malaise.

Sign of the Times

2008-04-03T11:34:00.000-04:00

Recession: “Last Exit before Hell”

The Associated Press
“For the first time, Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke acknowledged that the US could be headed into a Recession.” All I have to say is welcome to the party Benny. This is not news. Where have you been? Obviously you weren’t trying to get a job, buy/sell a home, pump gas, etc…

9 Year Olds in Georgia plan to murder Teacher: “Caution: Children at Play”

This is a particularly scary/ridiculous sign of the times. Since when have nine year olds gravitated toward punishing their teacher’s disciplining in class by death? These Georgian children set out on their insidious plan by giving each other homework assignments, each bringing in something to accomplish their deed, an evil show and tell. After seeing the inventory, it was apparent that the mastermind was indeed a 9 year old and fortunately for Georgia, 9 year olds aren’t that bright:

The instruments of death:
1. pair of red woolen mittens (Untied from coat sleeves)
2. pair of handcuffs (previous use: “Cops and Robbers”)
3. one pet rock (for budging)
4. one steak knife (parents took from local Outback)

9 Year in NYC rides the Subway Alone; Mother lets him: “Be prepared to Stop”

How is this news worthy? How is this a complete segment on a morning News program?
When asked how he enjoyed his solo subway ride from Bloomingdales back to his apartment, the child responded: “it was finally nice to get time by myself so I could conspire and hatch my plan to rid the school of my teacher. Mur ha ha.”

Top 10 on #1

2008-04-02T12:14:00.002-04:00

CanWest News Service

Here are 10 of the top April Fool's Day pranks ever pulled off, as judged by the San Diego-based Museum of Hoaxes for their notoriety, absurdity, and number of people duped.

In 1957, a BBC television show announced that thanks to a mild winter and the virtual elimination of the spaghetti weevil, Swiss farmers were enjoying a bumper spaghetti crop.Footage of Swiss farmers pulling strands of spaghetti from trees prompted a barrage of calls from people wanting to know how to grow their own spaghetti at home.

In 1985, Sports Illustrated magazine published a story that a rookie baseball pitcher who could reportedly throw a ball at 270 kilometers per hour (168 miles per hour) was set to join the New York Mets. Finch was said to have mastered his skill -- pitching significantly faster than anyone else has ever managed -- in a Tibetan monastery. Mets fans' celebrations were short-lived.

Sweden in 1962 had only one television channel, which broadcast in black and white.The station's technical expert appeared on the news to announce that thanks to a newly developed technology, viewers could convert their existing sets to receive color pictures by pulling a nylon stocking over the screen. In fact, they had to wait until 1970.

In 1996, American fast-food chain Taco Bell announced that it had bought Philadelphia's Liberty Bell, a historic symbol of American independence, from the federal government and was renaming it the Taco Liberty Bell. Outraged citizens called to express their anger before Taco Bell revealed the hoax.
Then-White House press secretary Mike McCurry was asked about the sale and said the Lincoln Memorial in Washington had also been sold and was to be renamed the Ford Lincoln Mercury Memorial after the automotive giant.

In 1977, British newspaper The Guardian published a seven-page supplement for the 10th anniversary of San Serriffe, a small republic located in the Indian Ocean consisting of several semicolon-shaped islands. A series of articles described the geography and culture of the two main islands, named Upper Caisse and Lower Caisse.

In 1992, U.S. National Public Radio announced that Richard Nixon was running for president again. His campaign slogan this time around was, "I didn't do anything wrong, and I won't do it again." They even had clips of Nixon announcing his candidacy. Listeners flooded the show with calls expressing their outrage. Nixon's voice actually turned out to be that of impersonator Rich Little.

In 1998, a newsletter titled New Mexicans for Science and Reason carried an article that the state of Alabama had voted to change the value of pi from 3.14159 to the "Biblical value" of 3.0.

Burger King, another American fast-food chain, published a full-page advertisement in USA Today in 1998 announcing the introduction of the "Left-Handed Whopper," specially designed for the 32 million left-handed Americans. According to the advertisement, the new burger included the same ingredients as the original, but the condiments were rotated 180 degrees. The chain said it received thousands of requests for the new burger, as well as orders for the original "right- handed" version.

Discover Magazine announced in 1995 that a highly respected biologist, Aprile Pazzo (Italian for April Fool), had discovered a new species in Antarctica: the hotheaded naked ice borer. The creatures were said to have bony head plates that became burning hot, allowing the animals to bore through ice at high speed -- a technique they used to hunt penguins.

Noted British astronomer Patrick Moore announced on the radio in 1976 that at 9:47 am, a once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event, in which Pluto would pass behind Jupiter, would cause a gravitational alignment that would reduce the Earth's gravity. Moore told listeners that if they jumped in the air at the exact moment of the planetary alignment, they would experience a floating sensation. Hundreds of people called in to report feeling the sensation.

April Not 1st

2008-04-02T12:11:00.000-04:00

I hope everyone is recovering from the plastic wrapped toilets, fake doggy poo; fake flies in the ice cubes, whoopee cushions, underpants sewn together, etc. I did not register April 1 yesterday. I received many links and funny testimonials and yet I failed to realize that they were associated with April Fools Day. Wikipedia has already posted all the jokes pulled yesterday: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_1,_2008.

I mostly experienced global pranks (mostly Google) and regrettably do not have any personal testimonials to the day. I did not attempt a prank. Due to my recent severe mood, I thought that any attempt of tom foolery might result in something regrettable and potentially tragic. “What started as a harmless April Fools joke has resulted in…

1. the collapse of a midtown financial building.
2. chaos and destruction.
3. the pulled muscle heard around the world.

Instead, I will share the joke my friend Audrey and her boyfriend (not fiancé) received from their friend Todd.

(Dear Audrey and Ryan,

It was wonderful meeting with Ryan. I look forward to meeting Audrey. I've finalized the date and I'm discussing options with the caterer. I'll get back to you with choices later this evening.

Happy Wishes and True Love!

Rita Roosevelt

Wedding Coordinator

rita@yourmostspecialmoment.com

http://www.yourmostspecialmoment.com/weddings

And the adoption site: http://www.yourmostspecialmoment.com/adoptions/)

April's Fool

2008-04-01T14:50:00.005-04:00

(courtesy of Abby & Google)
Rick Astley: Face like a child, voice like a man.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu_moia-oVI

There is something hypnotic in that sport coat swaying hip to hip arm to arm. Though, my favorite outfit is the cat burglar/flasher.

I also enjoy the bartender that spins for days and can leap tall counters in a single bound, not to mention the two back up dancers that the 80's birthed into a mixed up spandex world.

Ps. Speaking of a mixed up world...I got to see my stomach on camera today. The camera does add 10 lbs.

Pretty on the Inside

2008-03-31T15:38:00.001-04:00

I just found out that I have to get an Upper GI X-ray tomorrow. I’ve been told that I can’t eat or drink anything after midnight. I had a full, exciting weekend and the long nights out will make for a restful Monday. Now, I know that I will most likely be asleep at midnight and not conscious for food and drink, but something about being told I can’t makes me want to do nothing but eat or/and drink all night.

I wonder what will happen…Will my GI tract spawn other GI tract creatures who will transform into small, destructive monsters? I better keep bright light away from my mouth, just in case.

Support the People You Know

2008-03-31T15:07:00.002-04:00

This in from Audrey's friend...
Message:

Just wanted to let you all know that "A Powerful Noise", the film I've been editing for the past year, was selected for the 2008 Tribeca Film Festival at the end of April! We're very excited and are trying to create some internet buzz around the event. Although most of you aren't in town to see the premiere, you can help us out by checking out the trailer on You Tube. Please take a peek when you get a chance and give it a good rating (regardless what you think ;-) and make it a "favorite." Confrontational/funny/demented/sincere/gratuitous comments RE women's empowerment -- or whatever your cause -- welcome!

In addition to NYC, the film will be playing in other cities later this year including DC, LA and Atlanta, with more cities to be announced. For those of you in the DC area, "A Powerful Noise" will play at the AFI/Discovery Channel SILVERDOCS festival at the end of June. I'll let you know when they announce the screening date.
Select the link below to see the trailer and visit the APN website to read more about the film and the cause.

Thanks!!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=dv2UIrklRoE

http://apowerfulnoise.org/screenings.html

Jaime Does Yoga and…

2008-03-31T13:43:00.000-04:00

1. falls on the floor
2. will never be the same
3. is crippled by sore muscles.
4. is 2 inches taller

Saturday afternoon I set out to cross something off my ever growing resolution list: start taking Yoga classes. Next on the list is fighting off financial ruin, paying off the credit cards, and disinfecting the litter box at least once a month.

The instructor was everything I wanted in a “spiritual” leader, equal parts hippie, esoteric, nerdy and not in the least intimidating. After a good bit about finding your inner bliss and how not acknowledging the impermanence of things around us leads to disappointment and heart break (too pertinent), we began posing.

I’m not sure if you have ever been in a room filled with people breathing heavily and contorting in tight, organic cotton, but it can be a little distracting. It was very hard to imagine that I was made of clear blue sky and bright, un-blinding light. The poses were another story all together.

I secretly thought I was going to master the art of yoga in one afternoon. Having taking dance for many years (many years ago) I naturally thought that an exercise in flexibility and balance would be simple. I was wrong. On a number of occasions, the instructor had to come over to my mat and manually position me into the proper stance, after a loud warning that I may slip a disc. Oops. I found that when we were called to drop to the floor for “resting poses” I quite literally threw myself to the ground as if bowing awkwardly to the Yoga supreme, most uncomfortably (for both of us.) Other resting poses were publicly awkward, more specifically the happy baby. This pose should not be done in front of anyone, unless they are your gynecologist. Oof.

I had more luck with the standing poses, kind of. The Warrior was my favorite and once I thought I “nailed” it, I beamed with pride, expecting praise from the instructor. What I did receive was only an adjustment: legs into basically a split, and attitude into the unhappy baby.

On a happy note, it was a good feeling being able to even participate in such physical activity. I was forced to retreat from the world for such a long time that it feels amazing to find myself contorting myself back into it, one pose at a time.

I will leave you with my favorite names for poses:
Downward Facing Dog - Adho Mukha Svanasana
Half Lord of the Fishes Pose - Ardha Masyendrasana
Child's Pose - Balasana
Corpse Pose - Savasana http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/15/taking-the-yoga-corpse-pose-literally/
Happy Baby Pose - Ananda Balasana
Cat - Cow Stretch
Cobra Pose - Bhujangasana

Photo Week in Review: the Commute

2008-03-30T12:03:00.003-04:00

Spring Fever

2008-03-28T14:25:00.000-04:00

It’s another cold and dreary day here in NYC. The morning birds sing promises of spring, but the sun will not cooperate. I have a sinking suspicion the sun is depressed and can not roll out from a fluffy, white bed to face the day bold and proud.

Transition abound, all this recent change has giving many people a touch of “the depression”, just a touch. If I were the sun, I wouldn’t want to look down on all the frowns, drowning in salt water. Maybe if we all join hands and sing a chorus with the birds, we can convince the sun to come out and dry up all the rain.

Hecks Kitchen

2008-03-28T13:20:00.004-04:00

And now in live color...

A Portrait of an Obsessive Friend

2008-03-28T12:48:00.002-04:00

Friend: "Would you mind putting on these Reeboks?"
"I hope you're Thirsty!? I made Kool-Aid."

Humans Take Note

2008-03-27T11:59:00.013-04:00

This just in from Audrey...

"Apparently these are real, and the polar bear came back every day that week to play with the dogs."

If you don't already think animals are far more advanced than we humans, think again. Stuart Brown describes Norbert Rosing's striking images of a wild polar bear coming upon tethered sled dogs in the wilds of Canada 's Hudson Bay

The photographer was sure that he was going to see the end of his dogs when the polar bear wandered in, but

The Mean Fort Greene Machine

2008-03-27T11:52:00.002-04:00

Watch as I explode with excitement.

“Brooklyn Flea will take place every Sunday—rain or shine—starting April 6, 2008, at Bishop Loughlin Memorial High School in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, on Lafayette Ave. between Clermont and Vanderbilt Ave. The Flea will feature 200 vendors of vintage furniture, clothing and antiques alongside new designs by local makers of everything from jewelry to textiles. More information about the Flea can be found through the "About" link (on http://www.brownstoner.com/brooklynflea/ with a list of vendors [so far].)”

A Eulogy to the Man I Loved

2008-03-26T11:22:00.001-04:00

The man I loved was kind, giving, forgiving, generous, loyal, honest, loving and trustworthy. He was my best friend; he was my lover. He was killed by a shallow man; an unkind man who is untrustworthy; a selfish man who will kick a person while they are down, just as they are about to stand back up. He is a man who does not know what it means to love. Or it may just be that the man I loved never existed in the first place.

UPDATE Re: Log Cabin in Brooklyn

2008-03-26T10:09:00.002-04:00

"Real Estate Mysteries: Bigger than a shoebox, but not much
Nestled between multi-story homes in Brooklyn’s Windsor Terrace, surprise: a wooden cabin"

Looks like someone beat me to my slice of rural living in a big city. I'm so jealous.

I Miss My Best Friend

2008-03-25T13:57:00.001-04:00

"I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it."
-Mitch Hedberg

Whine with my Wine

2008-03-25T11:37:00.000-04:00

Another Brooklyn Ladies Association Happy Hour (BLAHH) was called to order last night at 7pm. Four ladies were present at commencement and were able to orient themselves to the daunting menu at the Jake Walk before the other members arrived. In the end, we tried many different types of wines on their vast list, sampled the country pate, olives, 3 different kinds of cheeses. All were delicious and our waitress was adorably helpful.

It was a wonderful way to spend the delicate part of the evening, transitioning from work into leisure. And now that is spring, we were able to sip down the sun. As night rolled over us, and taking a good look in our wallets, we opted for move on to cheaper food and beverage. Some got Cuban sandwiches others falafel, but all met up at the Zombie Hut for 5 dollar “dessert” drinks or 3 dollar beers.

The Zombie Hut was the scene of a rather ugly birthday, where I consumed an entire scorpion bowl (a 151 rum drink) and had to be removed from my own party. At home, somehow I cracked my head on the radiator next to my bed, succeeding in giving myself a concussion. I am now very cautious at the Zombie Hut. I would like to report a stellar performance this visit, but alas I am not meant to be pretty at this bar. Sadly, the 2 glasses of wine loosened my disposition, constitution and my lips. I unloaded my current, past, and future hardships onto a wonderful friend who took all of it with grace and sympathy. Alcohol and grief are not friendly bed fellows and when forced to mix the resulting crash spills on to the people in the hit zone. The amount of alcohol consumed determines the diameter of the “hit zone” and the resulting carnage. There were not many stray bullets this time…

After the “unburdening,” things improved immensely, as we proceeded to a birthday celebration down the block.

I am happy to report that the BLAHH is about to start a BLAHHG: A blog to document and review all the places we try. Also, I have found a partner to help me return to the world of comedy. Our plan is to write and perform a brilliantly funny piece. For now, my plan is to enjoy the sunshine and approaching warm weather and try to figure out each day as they come.

Frowny Faced Economy

2008-03-24T14:36:00.001-04:00

Recently, I’ve heard half scared/half defeated voices spout “economic collapse, eventual depression, credit crisis, and American dream turned nightmare.” This time they are not coming from my head; (I often try to harshly self-reference myself straight into a more frugal lifestyle.) This down turn is sadly universal and causing a scare in the financial world, especially with the recent Bear Stearns situation. According to the NY Times “the cash squeeze that brought Bear Stearns to its knees is fanning fears that other investment banks might be vulnerable to the crisis of confidence gripping Wall Street.”

My paranoia plans to pool what ever cash I have, go to home depot, buy out their lumber and garden department, build my own version of a log cabin* directly under the BQE, plant a garden, and live directly off the land, no matter how dirty and urine stained it may be. Whatever money I have left, I will carefully line my mattresses and pillows, batten down the hatches and wait it out in sweet subsistence living bliss. Fortunately, my paranoia is a push over and often loses in a fight with my sanity. I will remain in my apartment (directly under the BQE,) for now.

But, I am not here to deliver more bad news, turn your blues violet. I have heard the first positive news to come out of this whole thing, again from the NY Times. “The slowing economy, weighed down by a widening credit crisis, is likely to delay the signature office tower and three residential buildings at the heart of the $4 billion Atlantic Yards project in Brooklyn, the developer said.” Ratner was not specific, but the delay could be a matter of years. This is good news for Brooklyn residents that have been fighting the good fight for sometime now. This is also good news for my little cabin under the BQE. Honestly, I am surprised that my harshly worded letter did not have the same results.

Well, if the whole thing (the economy) does go down, I promise I will share my coffee rations with you as we count cars from the front porch, which will look remarkably like a raft.

*I do have construction experience. One summer I partnered in the creation of an ill fated table that more closely resembled a raft. It ironically was taken down by strong rains and hurricane type winds. I take comfort in knowing that it may have saved a small animal float to safety during the great roof flood of 2005.

Dark Chocolate Bunny

2008-03-24T09:49:00.001-04:00

And so another Monday arrives just as many before and many to follow. I begin my day navigating through the undulating waves of strangers fighting to cut you at the quick. My heart is no longer in the game and I let one selfish neck tie after the next overtake me at each stair, around each corner. I have no fight this morning and fall back into a leisurely pace, knowing it will not help with my tardy attendance record. Coffee in hand, dark glasses at the ready I emerge from the dank depths into sunlight that stings rather than warms this morning. I’ve chosen a path not unlike any other work day, it serves me fine, yet I resent it and am no longer speaking to my commute. I had an escape plan, a solution, a covert operation that would free me from commuter bondage and delivery me into a future where the sun does not sting the skin and faces smile at every turn. A future changed, this day goes down reluctantly, bad tasting medicine fighting its way back up.

Cheatin'

2008-03-18T16:50:00.002-04:00

Pictures of sleepy puppies win.

Wrestling the Homeless

2008-03-18T09:42:00.001-04:00

Homeless Man: "Good morning."
Me: "What's so good about it?"

Fingerless

2008-03-17T15:08:00.002-04:00

Well it’s St. Patrick’s Day again. As I will continue to affirm, it is a grueling, traumatic holiday for red heads. We are at the mercy of drunken heckles from all kinds. I choose not to wade through chummed waters this year. In fact, I can’t recall what I did last year. To be fair, last year was not my best, sick from the start to the finished, often crippled by pain and fatigue. And now, as the pain lifts and the fatigue seeks camp in lazier pastures, I still have a fog nipping at my heels and trying (and succeeding) to pull me under once again.

What is that saying? When one door closes, a window opens? I never realized that it was entirely possible to get your fingers caught in the door making it impossible to go through the window. So here I am caught painfully by the past and unable to escape to a new future (at least not one without fingers.)

Revival

2008-03-13T11:49:00.001-04:00

It's back on!
I think I have more things to say.

XO
Jaime

The Hurricane and the Low Pressure Front

2005-10-25T16:37:00.000-04:00

As the rains have returned, so must I.

I return not to complain about my pruning fingers, my perpetually damp socks and my failing boots with the hole in the sole. I’m not going to write about damp leaves and slippery rocks keeping me from hiking this past weekend. Nor will I gripe about the hay, wet with disappointment, unsuitable to ride in through saturated pumpkin patches and drowning corn mazes. I will not curse the rain, damn the rain or even shout profanity toward the sky, even if I feel provoked. I will dutifully raise my umbrella and go about my day without uttering a “nasty weather we are having” in an elevator with a stranger. No I will not do any of these things.

I merely want to share with you a great big hello.

HELLO

Sticking it to the Man, One knee Sock at a Time

2005-10-14T12:37:00.000-04:00

I wore knee socks to work, grey woolen knee socks. I didn’t wear hose. I didn’t put on stockings. I even left the tights at home. Woolen, grey knee socks cover my shins and wedge shoes my feet.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I insist on drawing attention (incurring wrath) from the sub-committee on appropriate work attire?

I look forward to my concise, properly harsh, email regarding the dress code.

Monkeys and Elephants

2005-10-13T12:27:00.000-04:00

I’m off to a 4 hour training.

If only I had been previously trained not to look bored during a 4 hour training.

I’m doomed: didn't get enough sleep on a school night doomed.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF RAIN...

2005-10-13T10:58:00.000-04:00

I'm molding.

The Falling Water

2005-10-12T11:13:00.000-04:00

Fall is here!

It brings with it the great rains. As I stare out a 40th floor window in Mid-Town New York I have to ask, where is the Ark? Water falls in buckets like the sky has been ripped open freeing its water collection. The sky has quite a collection.

Fall is my favorite season. It has been hard to truly enjoy the seasonable weather, the air’s new scent, apples, apples, pumpkins and leaves changing color. My Mother describes fall as the time when the trees dress up in their best formal wear in attempt to impress. I like that.

The Rolley Chair Circus

2005-08-25T16:10:00.000-04:00

I'm bored.

Just Another Day

2005-08-19T14:00:00.000-04:00

One more hour until early dismissal. This is one of the few things in adult life that is reminiscent of high school joys. In high school I was in the nerdy accelerated courses and was able to take a late arrival, off campus lunch and early dismissal in my senior year. (These were well earned, unlike my need to run from this Park Avenue office building as fast as my beaten up sneakers can move without disintegrating off my feet.)

In the summer I get to leave work at 3pm on Fridays (pending manager’s arrival.) Today I’m literally counting down the minutes and ducking and weaving my boss as he moves with purpose about the office. If I remain too long he will trap me under a pile to fax, file, set on fire and 3pm dismissal will seem nothing more than a fond memory. I’ve already gotten up get tea 4 times, gone to the rest room 5 times, and hung out in the mysteriously locked file room “searching for a file” for an uncomfortably long time.

Here he comes… got to run.

Boring Town, Population One

2005-08-17T12:25:00.000-04:00

Wow has it really been two months since I posted anything? Have I really had nothing to say? I did sort of disappear into oblivion, choosing sleep over exciting week night and even weekend plans. Or maybe I haven’t posted because of the oppressive heat that has plagued New York for what feels like an eternity. I was just too hot, tired and dehydrated to type. I could have posted and posted “UGGGgggghh I’m so f-ing hot” for two months. Aren’t you glad I spared you?

I have had my hands full this summer (I can’t believe it’s coming to a close soon.) Unlike last year when the rhtl were taking in shows every night and finding ourselves at exclusive rock n’ roll after parties, I’ve been mopping up water from my busted Air Conditioner (that I refuse to turn off even though it produces a great lake on the floor when left on.) I’ve been traveling although I can’t think where, and doing lots of stuff I can’t remember. Obviously the summer months have proved to be a boring blur of I can’t remembers.

Here’s to an exciting fall.

NARNIA

2005-06-29T15:43:00.000-04:00

I am re-reading the Chronicles of Narnia. Already through the Magician’s Nephew and halfway into The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (my remembered favorite) I’ve been able to proceed with a youthful wide eye-ed optimism. I refuse to believe that tragedy shall befall our noble heroes. I am usually right.

There is something about following the adventures of children that delivers safely to your childhood room, under the covers, reading with a flashlight. It’s a safe journey with a bumpy return. As my days stress harder on my constitution, it is harder and harder to pull myself from Narnia to face the electric bill or choosing a primary care physician in my network. I want both feet firmly in my child hood, searching for magical doorways into glorious worlds.

This afternoon, I approached the file room door, the door that remains mysteriously locked, with a curious eye. I counted to three, turned the key, opened the door very slowly and found…stacks of files.

I didn’t feel silly; I was quite proud to give into my imagination, even if just for three seconds. No matter how old you get, you should have at least one foot firmly planted in your childhood.

Because We Love Them...

2005-06-24T14:10:00.000-04:00

Haiku by co-worker addressed to me:

As the mighty Elm
So does your mighty butt grow
Even larger still

TGIF

2005-06-24T12:35:00.000-04:00

This Friday brings great relief.
This week has labored on; it’s more odious attributes have only been exaggerated by my lack of sleep and affinity for the bottle. The days pressed on much like my co-workers comments to my appearance.

Cube neighbor: “you look tired.”
Me: “I am tired.”
Cube neighbor: “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Me: “I’ve given it up.”
C.N.: “Really?”
Me: “No.”

I was a little cranky and short. (Some might say I’m always short standing a mere 5’11/2”, some being my Cube neighbor.)
Other comments to my form are as follows:

“Out late last night”
“Feeling ok?”
“Are you ok?”
“Do you take a Multivitamin? You should.”
“How many breakfasts is that?”
*“You, know I never realized how large your butt was; girl, you got junk in the trunk.”

*This last comment is not an exaggeration nor does it relate to me looking tired. It was by far my least favorite. I had to write it down so it would stop banging around in my head: bombarding and weakening self esteems foundations that have taken me a long time to construct.

TGIF

Haiku Part Two

2005-06-23T11:48:00.000-04:00

It has recently been brought to my attention that Haiku's should mention nature.

Amended Blog Haiku:
Winter’s abrasion
It reminds me of my Blog
Cold barren wasteland

On a cheerier note, Pizza party!
We are having a pizza party at work (I don’t even work in a grade school.) The powers that be are buying the employees pizza and calling it a party “for no good reason”. Just the idea of free Pizza is getting me through book binding, faxing and filing with a smile.

“Pizza party” it reminds me of the infamous “Cathy Dean” sleepovers in grade school. It was a stereotypical girls gathering where bras are frozen and Dad’s shaving cream ends up in someone’s hair. You couldn’t fall asleep lest you wanted to wake up covered in sticky products or worse drawn on with markers. We would leave her house the next morning, sleep deprived, cranky, hating our “best friends” and generally mad at the world. But, a “Cathy Dean” party was an honor you couldn’t refuse. Kids are stupid.

Haiku

2005-06-21T12:25:00.000-04:00

It has been too long

The words have no more meaning

Unsucessful Blog

Blast from the Past

2005-05-20T14:30:00.000-04:00

I enjoy reading past emails I've sent.

Below please find an email I sent on June 2, 2004:

I am very red in the face.
Surprisingly, the ruddy glow is not a result of behavior, comments or clothing, but a little slap in the forehead from the sun. The sun and I have a very tumultuous relationship. And today, the sun has left me with a painful reminder that our time together is best spent apart. I do not color well.

How are you?

I hope you were able to ease back into the working days. I’m having a difficult time getting things accomplished which is feeding the beastly pile lurching in my inbox.

Things are ok. I’m ok. I am far less anxious. Another day has past which is another day closer to a stress free world.

We had an excellent rehearsal last night. I have super power, get up and go happy time mix that Dana burned for me. See, things just keep getting better.

Contrary to my white knuckled exit, I had great time with you. I look forward to time spent without preoccupation.

XO
Jaime

I am dreaming of damp grass and the spiteful sun.

One year ago, I must have been having issues with clothing, talking to people and behaving inappropriately on damp grass in the sun? 2004 Jaime enjoyed music much like 2005 Jaime. Although, 2004 Jaime probably used music as an escape from stress related anxiety and white knuckled preoccutions. It sounds like I had fun with others but readily fled social situations in grand exits. My, how far I've come.

Running Like a Mad (Wo) Man

2005-05-18T16:16:00.000-04:00

It has been really lovely out. I had thought I should get to the park and move around some in the interest of exercising. I wanted to roller skate, but was too intimated to do it alone. The idea of falling and not having anyone hear my nervous laughter was too much to bear.

It’s Wednesday, the mid point to a busy week. Sleepiness has wrapped my brain in a sweater. It’s hard fighting the good fight: keeping my head of my desk. My desk, mind you, is piled high with papers and dust; I just squeaked out the last bit of pressured air clearing crumbs from my keyboard. So, my head will have a soft but dreadful landing.

The Debutantes play Southpaw tonight at 9pm. (news to keep your head upright)

A Letter to my Parents, From my Work

2005-05-11T15:08:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr.& Mrs. Fallon:

We are sorry to inform you of our recent filing accident. Jaime Fallon has been pinned under filing F-J since 12:00 p.m. this afternoon; ironically, that is where we would have filed her had she been a hanging folder. We will keep you apprised of any new developments.

Best regards,
RREEF

Epiphany

2005-05-05T14:31:00.000-04:00

With the release of a new NIN album, I've read many post, newly drug and alcohol free Trent Reznor interview articles exposing his mental state while writing previous albums. A great epiphany: Trent Reznor was in a dark place.

You think?

PS. His last album was called Downward Spiral. I'm just saying...

Confession: I think Trent Reznor is hot with his haircut. See below.

AA Admin

2005-04-27T15:44:00.000-04:00

It's Administrative professionals' Day. As I eat my complimentary tuna sandwich I think, God, I could really use a Diet Coke.

I'm going to see Stars tonight at Bowery and the Debutantes booked a show at Southpaw. I could still go for that Diet Coke.

Bloc Party Was Tremendous!

2005-04-11T15:44:00.000-04:00

Rarely have I seen a crowd so eager for a band, and a band so eager for the crowd.

I went to see Bloc Party on Friday, the second night and proudly proclaimed “better” night by everyone in the small audible circle around me. Mind you, the circle was small and rubbing up against me for most of the night.

The crowd was lit up, on fire even and dancing with such charged fury that the scene almost erupted into a mosh pit, reminiscent of shows I attended in H.S. in an abandoned warehouse or Veterans’ Hall. People were moved into excitable trances shaking, thrusting and jumping. There were even reports of a gentleman pleasuring himself in front of the stage. I learned through a very Seinfeldian exchange with a female stranger that she dropped back into the crowd after a man “took it out. Yes, it, out.” I assume he was just a bit more excited than the rest of us.

Our attention was quickly redirected back towards the band. Between each song, they connected with the crowd with healthy doses of British Charm. It seemed as though they were apologizing for their professional, flawless, rock star personas while playing through their humbling witty banter. It was refreshing to see a technically proficient band having the time of their lives, shining like a bright light. Many bands of late have taken themselves much too seriously, portraying an almost sullen, apathetic presence on stage. Bloc party and the crowd were feeding off each other. Everyone was satisfied, (without having to “take it out,” well, with one exception.)

Cough Cough

2005-03-31T17:01:00.000-05:00

The only thing in my inbox is a box of surplus Angel Soft (standard office issue) tissue.

I’m sick again.

Can you believe it?

I can’t.

People are Nicer than the Sun

2005-03-29T16:12:00.000-05:00

People at the office have been inquiring about my “tan.” Where could I have gone to get such a “tan.” Let me clarify, my face is red, looking straight at an apple red. I had to explain that out my front door is where I could have gone to get such a “tan”(or sun burn). The fair skinned do not color well, or too well.

My burn was the result of an afternoon snowboarding. The burn is centrally located on my fore head, cheeks and chin, much like a raccoon. It looks as though the sun forced me into a hat and sunglasses, sat me down in an intense solar chair and colored in the exposed skin with a red crayon. The sun and I are not friends.

Feed the Trees

2005-03-28T16:00:00.000-05:00

It is ten days later later, an inch deeper in rain water, and I’ve been punched with a fist full of exhaustion. I returned from an extended weekend in Vermont where I enjoyed times with friends, snowboarding and counting sap spigots in Maple trees as we drove home through the woods.

Opening my eyes, still heavy with sleep, I hoped find snow covered mountains littered with evergreens peering through my morning window panes. Instead I got an eyeful of the cardboard art project I hung carelessly on my wall to cover up the holes left from a failed shelving experiment.

I’m back in New York and back on the subway before I can reflect any longer on tranquil vistas. I’m sharing a subway car with too many people and cringing at the overly boisterous conversations between two lightly accented women who work in healthcare. They’ve only just begun their audible tirade on the “Mexican plague” in NYC when I realize that the subway train is being powered solely on nervous, uncomfortably energy.
This would never happen if I commuted with sap spigoted (non-bigoted) Maple trees.

Addendum: Letter to Lady in the Elevator, dressed all in Black

2005-03-17T12:48:00.000-05:00

When you say “My God it’s green in here,” I know you’re talking about me.

A Letter to the Man Standing too Close to Me on the Subway

2005-03-17T12:06:00.000-05:00

You are standing too close. If I can smell what you ate for breakfast, you’re standing too close to me. You had an omelet with peppers and onions. You are standing too close.

I am not a pole. You cannot hang on me for support. The train does jostle us about and I am the closest thing to you. You cannot hang on me for support.

You are carrying a bag. When said bag feels lighter, it’s resting on something. It’s resting on me.

When disembarking please do not follow my steps in a body hugging fashion. If the entire front part of your body is not touching the complete back part of my body, you will get out of the train just as fast. I guarantee it.

There is a difference between being aggressive and just being a jerk. I’m afraid you are the latter.

I am not one to hold a grudge, so Happy Saint Patrick’s Day Man standing too close to me on the subway.

Green

2005-03-16T17:18:00.000-05:00

After 4 subway transfers, an extremely close encounter with a crazy person with the touchies, and a stubbed toe I emerged from Grand Central. As I turned the corner a stranger handed me a fist full of daisies. My internal New Yorker shifted my gaze dead fast straight ahead while questioning this obvious funny business; my internal girl almost curtseyed while smiling a thanks. What is it about getting flowers? It can melt the coldest disposition and pull hard on both sides of the mouth. It turned out to be some silly promotion for a television show: John Stamos being John Stamos or something. Still, flowers are flowers and I was happy for them. Thank you John Stamos’s peoples’ people’s people.

I spent most of the afternoon sending myself test emails. The number of messages in my inbox would suggest a full network meltdown. Alas, my email was working fine; I just checked.

Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day. But, what does that mean, really? An excuse for otherwise tightly tied ex-frat boy turned executives to get pissed and urinate in the streets? Or for the normally very mono-chromed to add a splash of color to their wardrobes? Does anyone remember what poor Saint Patrick did beside die from serosis of the liver?

Off to a work dinner, where I will try not to inappropriately enjoy too many passion fruit margaritas with co-workers. I must remember to eat lots of tortilla chips.

rhtl update: Friday night is alright.
Big party planned.

It's in the Frosting

2005-03-14T17:25:00.000-05:00

I’m a great big stress ball wound up in rubber bands bouncing off walls.
I have too much to do list and not enough red checks.
Everything was grating deeply into my nerves this morning. I wanted to poke the man in the shiny loafers who insisted on pushing the elevator call button as each new person approached. He chose to do this repeatedly with his middle finger. Was he an angry man who is used to extending his middle finger? Or was he just trying to impress the ladies he thought he was rescuing from an elevatorless lobby? Either way he was annoying.

I finally got upstairs after hateful weather chit chat and sat down to complication after complication, problem after problem. The day exploded into a brain melting headache.

The smallest gestures can turn an afternoon around. A playful gesture from a neighbor, a green frosted cupcake special delivery, free candy in the vending machine made 5pm arrive with grace sending complicated problems and shiny, pokey man right down the elevator shaft.

rhtl Update: Reunited!

Guinness Speaks

2005-03-10T12:18:00.000-05:00

Please enjoy World's Smallest Cat, only three pounds.

Mr. Peebles

A Dull Day in Dullsville

2005-03-08T17:07:00.000-05:00

A celebratory dinner centric weekend has landed me back into the work week a few dollars lighter and few pounds heavier.

Riding off an incredible caffeine tidal wave into a large pile of filing has me grumpy and back at the caffeine dispenser once again. Everything is pulsing here at the office. With shoulders thrusted uncomfortably erect and faces shot downward, drones hum to and fro, gurgling at desks and slamming down phones. I’m nervously staring down the clock, challenging the digital numbers to change to 5:00 and praying I don’t here heavy foot steps behind my chair. I can’t concentrate on anything but what it would be like not to be here. If it were not for the delicious cupcake I ate early this afternoon, I would be hiding under my desk humming Pulp songs.

In an attempt to be productive, I tried to make a doctor’s appointment for this week. The receptionist told me that my Doctor was not available; ironically, Journey’s Open Arms was playing when she pressed hold.

It’s already Tuesday and my only plans for the week included cleaning my apartment and making a Doctors appointment. My new plan is to go home and dance around my messy apartment to Pulp and reevaluate my planning abilities.

Rhtl update: Alpha please come home.

Free Music Sounds Better

2005-03-03T17:18:00.000-05:00

Interpol at Radio City Music Hall

From the mezzanine, Dana & I watched silhouettes losing themselves on a colossal stage, but witnessed a sound that swallowed the auditorium’s every inch. Everyone sat next to a song. I chose to saddle up next to Specialist, the first encore, sitting breathless until the bass progression toward the end. After which, in poor form, I pumped my fist in the air like I had just won the three-legged race on field day. I was at radio city; I lost myself in the velvet seat cushions and billowing upholstery; my decorum followed.

We missed the intimacy we experienced at smaller venues previously this year, but one can not complain about a free show without sounding bawdy. I’m not complaining, nor am I bawdy (I don’t think). The band grew in the venue’s enormity, introducing choreographed lighting and increasing fog machine production. In the lights, oversize Interpol shadow puppets played against the wall. It was delightfully hypnotic.

Post show we headed to Brooklyn on what Dana cleverly referred to as the Interpol Express, otherwise known as the F train. We followed a mysterious, delicious food scent toward a hipster packed subway car, vowing to raid the refrigerator when we returned our homes respectively.

A small box of Ritz Bits later I went to sleep and dreamed about Interpol shadow puppets.

The Sun Shines on a Girl in Brooklyn

2005-03-01T15:27:00.000-05:00

I stepped out my front door into a Brooklyn covered in white. The streets, trees and sidewalks were white washed clean and full of promise. The kind morning sent my favorite music through me headphones and raised my steps a full inch into a skip. I imagined my two dollar bag was a sled and we were bound for the tallest hill the park. As I cut a path through the soft, cold snow I felt as though I was whistling down the slope. I love the snow like a child loves ice cream on the carpet. I was so elated that even the Jamaican woman who evangelizes in the Fulton street stop thought I deserved to be saved. She handed me a prayer pamphlet and a little wink. (She never offers me the literature.)

I won tickets. I won Interpol tickets. I never win. I never win anything I love. I love Interpol and winning so imagine my delight. If I smiled any broader, my smile would literally leap from my face and dance.

What a delightful day.

rhtl update: "Look it stop snowing"

Thar She Blows

2005-02-28T17:12:00.000-05:00

Last week the great flu swallowed me whole. I sat in her belly for 4 days dreaming of warm deserted beaches and strong legs to stand on. My savior was a sympathetic boy's kindly generosity and the simple distraction that only comes from 200 channels of television programming that you and pause and rewind at will. A gallon of Apple juice and a box of Pop Tarts later I am back at work staring down three large piles heckling me from the corner of my desk. The piles remain as I continue to work at my now bitten down nails that grew when I was distant with fever.

It's snowing. The newsman would have us believe the end is near...the snow! the snow!
Brave well under grey skies and in white messes.

To The Far East

2005-02-15T17:44:00.000-05:00

I’ve forgot to have an interesting life this week. In the meantime, please enjoy the following email from my friend Elena who has quit her job to travel the world:

Hello friends, family and people that I like and wish I was in bettertouch with so here goes...In less than 12 hours I am due at the airport to catch my flight toBangkok to explore a land known as southeast Asia for a few months. I quit my job, moved my stuff out of NYC and into my little brother's old room at my parents, packed a big backpack and a small backpack and am officially in Bangkok at themoment. Most of you requested that I keep in touch through my travelsand for those who didn't - well, if you were off traveling for a fewmonths, I would hope and love to hear from you. But if you don't wantto hear what I'm up to, no worries mate, just let me know and I'llskip you next time ;)It was a surreal trip. I refused to even think about Texas time sinceI left Thursday 9am TX time (after pulling an all-nighter), andarrived Friday 11:30pm Bangkok time. But it wasn't easy. We flewover Siberia!!! Left Chicago and hugged theAlaskan coastline. Eventually flew over a surface area that I did notknow the earth had - it looked like the moon sorta. At first it wasrolling dark little hills and then they turned into white, ummm notreally sure how to describe. Sorta like how water and oil don't mixbut mostly white and flat. I guess ice because when the map in theplane came up we were over Siberia. It seems a little odd to me thatto get to the other side of the world (just slightly above theequator) I had to fly over Siberia. But anyway...I arrived safely. My preferred/recommended hotel was full along with the next 4 or so Ipopped into (at least I was in the right section of town where hotelsare every couple of doors). I found one open and would've paidanything at that point (1 am or so) and a couple of Japanese girlscame to inquire as well. Only one needed a bed so I asked if shewanted to share the double/triple he was offering me. (I think thatwas the last room and I needed a fellow traveler to brain pick). SoYuki is my first travel buddy. Yuki as in YOU-key, do not confusewith Yucky. Yuki is very nice, learned English in Australia 5 yearsago where she worked for a year. Her English is pretty damn good butwe do play charades at times - a skill that will come in handy as thetrip progresses. Her name means snow but ironically enough she can'tstand the cold. She's been traveling a lot in the last 7-8 months orso off and on. She goes home "for good" on the 18th and has alreadytold me I need to visit her in Japan. She is gonna hit the beachtomorrow or the next day (I think a 6 hr bus ride from here) and I amtempted to join. It is HOT here! Ok, it is more steamy and humidthan hot. No, it is definitely hot, I just checked weather.com and itsays it's 92 degrees but feels like 102! (I cannot believe it isactually that hot!) I am impressed that Yuki still likes me afterwhole conversations with sweat dripping down my face. She's a bargainshopper and so we switched hotels - the first (desperate) night wepaid 325 baht each - I think that is somewhere around $12.10 ($24total) for a private room with bathroom, air conditioning (!) and alittle fridge/mini bar with bottled water for 15 cents. Now we arestaying in a guesthouse (term for something not as nice as a hotel buta little better than a hostel) with rock hard beds and a ceiling fan(no a/c so sleeping is better when you are really exhausted). Communal bathrooms have little tiled closets with a Western toilet anda shower together - literally I could sit on the toilet and take ashower! And then there are the little closets with just showers and adrain (the drain also doubling for an Eastern-style toilet). There isno toilet paper so I've learned quickly to carry a roll in my backpackat all times but I still have not mastered the technique of puttingthe tp in the trash (old habits are hard to break) since the plumbingis old and there are signs requesting you to not put it in the toilet.Fortunately, I have not caused the toilet to overflow yet with mycarelessness and I will be mortified if it happens, especially sincemy room is so close to the toilets. This place is 180 baht so I thinkit's about $4.20 a night. Yuki is cool and fun but I don't know ifI'm on the same travel budget as she is. My body is still adjusting tothe time change/jet lag so I'm not sleeping on a consistent scheduleyet but I am getting plenty of time in the early morning (I'm wakingaround 6:30am these days) to lay in bed and think about sleeping. I've been drinking tons of water and I think it's just getting sweatedout and my nose was vascillating from a lovely faucet to being allstopped up. My sinuses did the same thing when I got jet laggedflying to London years ago. So I just keep drinking more water inhopes of avoiding this thing turning into a cold (which is what Ithought I had for 2 wks after flying to London). I found a place thatlooked like a pharmacy to get some Sudafed and the friendlyEnglish-speaking lady handed me some minimally-marked pills and saidthey were "almost same". I asked lots of questions and decided totake a leap of faith on my friendly drug dealer's recommendations andwas pleased to find I can breathe much better with no other sideeffects! Ok, enough about my body's reactions.I haven't explored much but am about too. Bangkok is definitely aculture shock - fortunately in a charming way. Great peoplewatching! Lots of beautiful, vibrant colors around and intrigingtemples (Yuki is Japanese Buddhist). I have a pretty good sense ofdirection but was completely discombobulated initially. I wouldwander down an alley or two then find my way back to the guesthousethen wander down another street or alley, return to the guesthouseover and over until the sun came out to give me a shadow and let mefigure out where north was. The streets weren't marked well and wereso minor that it took me a while to find a major one that was also onmy map, then another major one on the map to indicate theintersection. But once I figured it out - oh, what an adrenalinerush! REM's "Stand" rejoiced in my head, "STAND! in the place whereyou live. Think about direction, wonder why we have it now. STAND!in the place where you work...If you are confused, check with the sun.Carry a compass to help you along. Your feet are going to be on theground. Your head is there to move you around!" Yeah, I almost feltlike doing a little jig but I didn't want to steal the spotlight fromthe friendly mute who likes to play charades with anyone near. I haveno idea what he is trying to convey with his motions so I just smileand nod then scope out a spot to watch him interact with otherconfused pedestrians. The best things in life truly are free.I am still taking everything in and reading my travel books to figureout where to go, what to see but it is all so foreign and overwhelmingand HOT that I am having trouble retaining all this new info (andcrazy sounding words). Other backpackers remind me of New Yorkers,they keep to themselves but once you break the ice, they are superfriendly and helpful. I've befriended a wonderful couple from NewZealand who had one of their bags stolen 4 days ago and they blow meaway with their attitude about having to replaceeverything...passport, visas, plane tickets, camera, etc. Fortunatelythey had traveler's insurance that is helping but still, such ahassle. Hey, for all those backpackers out there, do y'all have anyrecommendations for travel insurance? I need medical and personalbelonging coverage and did a little research the other day online butseriously, my attention span could not handle it.Speaking of attention span, I'm tired of writing! I just wanted tolet y'all know I arrived safely and that y'all have been on my mind. Don't worry about me, life is good, getting better all the time.Please keep me in the loop with your adventures as well. Thanks toeveryone's well wishes and support!

xoxo,e

The started with Wake Up

2005-02-02T17:03:00.000-05:00

The Arcade Fire began late, after the band agreed to play Conan in the 25th hour. With no time to sound check the enormous arsenal of instruments; the band took a devastating long time line checking each instrument. (There was feedback/ volume issues with all the microphones and amps scattered on stage.)
The crowd grew restless with excitement and anticipation. Dana, Matt and I had the undeserving pleasure of standing in front of loud complainers who kept miss-identifying the instruments and the reason for the show’s delay. They obviously thought they were very witty and insightful because they tried to share their observations with an entire auditorium. We received the brunt, directly in our ears at full volume, as they began to even heckle the opening act (who, ironically, they came to learn was in The Arcade Fire.) Dana and Matt tagged teamed an opposition to the wet bottomed cranky babies’ nay saying. To my delight, at least for a short time period, we were standing in comfortable silence once again.

One of the two violinists in the Arcade Fire opened for the band as Final Fantasy. He played 4 originals by playing his violin through a delay pedal, building percussion, bass, melodies and harmonies while singing. It was really quite amazing.

The Arcade Fire was astonishing. They played flawlessly. There was an impressive energy on stage as 8 musicians worked as one; a wonderful representation of the material on the album (& not on the album). The instruments included: a rack of guitars ranging from Telecasters, Gibsons to Danelectros; an electric and upright bass, an accordions, two violins, keyboards and an organ, a handful of tambourines, and a large bass tom marching band type drum. They took turns on the core instruments. I was concerned they wouldn’t represent well live with the album’s heavy instrumentation; I was impressed.

I returned home in the early hours of the morning after Dana and I experienced a life threateningly fast taxi ride across the Manhattan Bridge. While speeding precariously over the water, weaving between cars, the driver screamed into the phone about wanting to be picked up and demanding his twenty dollars back from “the bitch,” who later he said he would slap like she was a bitch. (I assumed he meant to bitch slap a lady.) I quickly removed myself from the vehicle and scurried down the sidewalk. Dana traveled solo for another block and later reported the driver running into another car when he pulled over to let her out. He blamed “the bitch” for distracting him.

I watched The Arcade Fire on Conan before going to bed and dreamed of a rack of guitars ranging from Telecasters, Gibsons to Danelectros.

Futility, and the People who Wear it Well

2005-02-01T15:44:00.000-05:00

I’m sad today. I’m preoccupied with doom and gloom. I’ve been sitting in my cubical staring at blank computer screens, as my internet connection fails me, for too long. All day the internet has been floopy, like jumping from buildings into pieces of Swiss cheese; a frustratingly awful impossibility.

I’m filled with worry over world affairs and affairs closer to home. My mind is on sick friends, lost socks and keys I will never find.

I’m reminded of the young, hot cop on the L platform last Saturday night. Coming from a show at North Six, we trampled down the stairs toward the Manhattan bound train coming into the station; it stopped abruptly. A full platform littered with hipsters gurgled, grumbled, and mumbled. Through the crowds, the young, hot cop paced nervously, applying his little flashlight toward the tracks under the train. Assumingly not keen on his crowd control procedures, the cop addresses the crowd as causally as he can afford.

Young, Hot Cop: “Um, by any chance, did, um, anyone, ur, see someone on the tracks before the train pulled in?”

Crowd: “gasp”

I was surprised he didn’t try to misdirect without a harmless question.
Young Hot Cop: “Um, by any chance, does anyone know the time and, um, if, you know, some was on the tracks?” (being crush to death by the train)

He proceeded to pace, talk on his walkie talkie and shine his tiny flashlight here and there.

After another minute, the train pulled completely into the station as everyone, practically fell to their knees to peer under it. We got on the train, so I don’t know if someone really was on the tracks, or if it was some young cop hazing on a Saturday night. What I do know is that as soon as we boarded the train, it was obvious to everyone that the gentleman sprawled out on the seats had crapped his pants. We switched cars and talked about the hot, young cop and crap all the way to Manhattan.

RHTL: Arcade Fire Tonight...not the same without three.

At the Week's End

2005-01-31T17:47:00.000-05:00

Goal Accomplished:

The contents of my handbag remained in my handbag for the duration of the weekend (Friday night pre-party / party, Saturday pre-party/ band watching/ dancing/ bagel store):

cell phone (This is a virtual miracle. I lose one cell phone per 6month span and I’m due. My phone enjoys leaping free from bags and more commonly coat pockets on to taxi cab floors or behind ATMs into glue traps. [I will neither confirm nor deny this ever happened])

ipod (which was thoughtfully removed in case I was not able to live up to my expectations and somehow would lose it in some freak, falling out of a moving cab incident; which I will neither confirm nor deny ever happened)

Wallet (this item was frequently removed and returned to my bag. I am able to recount its whereabouts throughout the weekend but not the money inside; it has vanished completely)

One pair of earrings: given to me by Dana for Christmas (They made it to my ears by Saturday evening after recovering an essential fastening element which had somehow attached itself to the back of my tights.)

Eyeliner/ Chap Stick/ lip-gloss (I frequently used and re-used these item; their location was never a surprise)

Metrocard (The metrocard has a special compartment in each of my bags. I’ve inadvertently destroyed too many monthly passes with irreversibly bending that I make a special effort where it’s concerned. They are also very slippery and prone to falling to unreachable/ unimaginable crevasses.)

Work ID (I must not remove my ID from my bag or I will forget to return it come Monday. Without my ID, I am subject to an intense two pronged security layover; it is annoying and time consuming. The work ID doesn’t play around; I do not touch it)

One Birthday check from Grandma (I need to deposit it in the bank, seriously. Last time I delayed deposit my Grandmother thought I had been killed by the big bad city. Fortunately, I still have it and we are both safe.)

RHTL UPDATE: The arrival of the uniforms marks a blessed occasion.

Suspended in Last Year

2005-01-28T16:40:00.000-05:00

My family has postponed my birthday until February. If I was aware that one could simply postpone their birthday, I would have done so years ago when I was only turning 25; I would still be turning 25 and not a dreadful 28. Ironically, 28 will seem like a youthful dream years from now when I’m staring down 40 and will remark: “If only I appreciated being so young.” Alas, by my twenty something nature, it’s nearly impossible to appreciate anything until it is ripped violently from my careless fingers. So tonight’s homework (since it's a proper weekend night) is to appreciate my youth and set out on the world like a warrior. I will brave, headstrong, into the cold night in search of youthful companions and good times in the wee hours of the night (or morning). The only adult behavior required is maintaining all my belongings; I must come home with what I left with, including my pride. Now come to think of it…I probably shouldn’t drink too much, I have a big day tomorrow…and it will be cold tonight so a local outing will serve me best…and I must remember to feed the cat, turn off the space heater, go to the ATM in case I have to take a car service, eat a proper meal as not to become overly drunk to early in the evening…

I’m so 28.

Rhtl Update: After, coming home from their harrowing blizzard adventures, the rhtl is temporarily down a member. As soon as the trio is restored, exciting times will be abound.

It Is Very Cold Outside

2005-01-27T17:19:00.000-05:00

I’m staying late at work to avoid the night’s bitter cold reach.

Although, I’m here in my cube, pushing papers from one side of my desk to the other, I am busy being creative: developing a treatment to a small theater production, emailing my favorites, writing lyrics to imaginary songs, praying for friends and relating scanning tales as if my machine were a ninja (silent and effective).

I wish I could scan a copy of myself into my bed and under the covers… right now.

Paranoia

2005-01-26T16:49:00.000-05:00

I spent the afternoon looking up symptoms on WebMd.

I think I'm dying.

Please mourn me.

They will say "How could one girl have so many diseases at such a young age."

I've just turned 28, my preoccupation with death and disease has come early.

2005 Reasons: A Count Down to Happiness

2005-01-18T18:03:00.000-05:00

This is the first year in many that I can report money, sophisticated electronics, and a chip (previously removed from my shoulder) in my pocket. We are well into 2005 and things appear to be going well, I will not tempt fate by describing just how well. By this time in 2004 I had already lost two cell phones, suffered a crushing blow to my bank account through identity thievery and had a number of people not speaking to me. As I mentioned, things appear to going well, or at least better.

I’ve just returned from the Fallon Family Annual Ski Trip to Okemo Mountain, this being year 18. We travel every year on Martin Luther King’s Birthday with the same relative-type-close family friends and stay at the same house. Very few traditions remain, it’s nice to still have this one to look forward to…I will try to hold on to it with all I’ve got. We catch up each year like it’s been twenty, and make false promises to get together more often than once a year. The trip used to include the adults and the kids separated by one solid wall. Beyond that wall grew debauchery as the older kids stole alcohol for the younger…giving them lessons and music to take with them into their future. The younger then became the older until they were the eldest. This year, my brother and I were the only “kids” present and we stayed in “the big house”. Our presence was cherished and reward by mother and father type pampering throughout the weekend.

Every year “the adults” get a big kick about how well I can ride that board, (a snowboard, and I’ve been riding since I was 12,) and how I play music in a Rock N’ Roll band. They inquire about our jobs, our lives, paying close attention to the more responsible, grow-up aspects of our accounts searching for hints of marriage, children, promotions with lots-o-money. Even if there is no glimmer, they place one within the context of your uneasy rambling. My Brother and I (who were apart of the “older kids”, my brother being first generation and I the second) are the only ones who have not married or had children. “The adults” try to push children from us with the weights of their stares. Since, no children or spouses are present…we remain “the kids.”

The snow boarding was spectacular…not to say that the conditions were good, or that it wasn’t 10 below on the mountain. It was spectacular because I rarely get to do it anymore and I love it tremendously (the closest thing to flying.) When I was 18 and in college I afforded to go to the mountain 3-5 times a week, and if it weren’t for a devastating fall I might have chosen a snowboard oriented career of sorts. For now, I comfortably slip in to the pale corners of dark bars, avoiding fresh air and the sun. This is why the snowboarding this weekend was spectacular.

A Holiday Cheer Up

2004-12-20T17:21:00.000-05:00

Here it is Monday, December 20, 2004: 10 days after my last post and 5 days till Christmas. I’m feeling delinquent. Christmas is slowly turning into the shopping days count down, as I pop Tums and forge head first into an agitated sea of people.

The Sea, she was angry on Sunday rocking about violently, slamming to and fro. Abby and I took turns commanding a small vessel through the canals, quickly dismissing all Target’s wares. Nothing, not even the affordable allure of the brightly colored products could keep us among the sloppy mess of bodies. Decorative tins, tension rods, make-up, Christmas lights, and candy canes later we escaped outside to safer terrain. We had to sit for a minute, reflect in the brisk air to decompress.

Off again to find holiday cheer we headed toward the Christmas tree lot. When arriving, we were again faced with too many faces and retreated to the open air. The Lot penned in trees and bodies in some horrific corral at an intersection of two busy highways. The bodies and trees fought against each other as two Russian men screamed out prices over euro-techno beats. It was loud confusion; we weren’t really sure who or what was for sale.

We found another tree lot down the street in a good old fashion parking lot. We each bought a Christmas tree from a man who resembled Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer as much as a man can and still look like a man.

Decorative tins, tension rods, make-up, Christmas lights, and candy canes and now two trees, dragging behind us, headed home.

As I raised my mighty little tree in triumph and dressed it in lights, the light rain out my window turned to snow. It finally felt like Christmas. I was happy. I fell asleep with the tree still lit and woke up like a child on Christmas morning.

RHTL Update:
For a detailed description of DC hi-jinks please refer to the following link: http://peppermint-patty.blogspot.com/. The Debutantes played a great show at the Galaxy Hut and were asked back to play at the Velvet Lounge on January 21st. (More info to follow)

The Young, The Old, The District

2004-12-10T17:25:00.000-05:00

At an Apartment on Ludlow:
I spent the evening enjoying life as a college grad. Admittedly, I graduated too early. Not to say that my genius carried me through the course work at an accelerated pace, but that I’ve been out of college and well into my twenties much longer than our hosts, who’ve just graduated and rented their first NYC apartment. They’ve dressed their walls and floors in grown up accessories and filled the rooms with adorable conversation. I was impressed by the feel and look of the “young” apartment. And instead of feeling old, I felt young and ready for anything.

It made me think about beginning life after college and it’s evolution as graduation day sinks farther and farther into the past. Remember when your major talking points were related to life experiences you had while in college, a couple of months ago? When you put your milk crate table on the curb and took your bed down from the cinder blocks and walked awkwardly into sophistication and intelligent conversation? What intelligent conversation? It was amusing to watch people in that tween place, figuring out what sort of adult they were going to be…whether they were going to be an adult (a decision I have yet to make..)

We (Dana, Matt, Andy & I) left the apartment on Ludlow and went to Bowery Ballroom to see some bands: The Bravery and Moving Units. I was disappointed with the Moving Units stage presence. They didn’t have command over the audience who slowly slipped downstairs to the bar as they played. They are excellent musicians with a tight sound, but didn’t enrapture the New York audience there mostly to see the marketable faces of the Bravery Boys (and tight, tight jeans.)

RHTL REPORT: The Debutantes Play DC

The RHTL is headed for the District. Adventures in the Nation’s Capital include: car trips, roadside pit stops, drinking vodka, exploring the suburbs for guitar accessories and music joke books, drinking vodka, playing music (see subject line), keg parties, making it home in one piece.

My Most Important Brooklyn

2004-12-08T17:21:00.000-05:00

Yesterday’s update list failed to include my move to Brooklyn. I moved to Fort Greene to join my friends who wisely migrated east earlier. Though I’m still living out of boxes, eating out of boxes, dreaming about boxes crushing me to death, I'm so happy! Yay Brooklyn!
Brooklyn has unabashedly welcomed me into her arms even while I fussed generously over moving pains.

These are a few of my favorite things:
I inhabit a large room called the Parlor
I live blocks away from my favorite people
The chance of early morning tea over drunken late night gossip
Sleigh riding parties in the park/ hot chocolate in the parlor
A content cat sleeping in front of a very large window
Target (A short walk away)
New bars, eats, people (but not bars eating people or eating people at bars)
Dew drops on flowers and whiskers on kittens...

(Writing lists in a chaotic life provides some semblance of order.)

RHTL REPORT:

Tonight, the RHTL is searching for an alibi…hi-jinks and debauchery are expected to ensue.

Back From the Brink

2004-12-07T13:25:00.000-05:00

Recently, I was told by a great many (two people) that they checked this blog daily in case of updates. As you can see from my last post’s date line it has been a great while since I’ve posted. I was moved to write something today…even if just to give two sentences to two people.

It would be too complicated and too involved to pick up where I left off; pages and pages of boring daily accounts of illness, music and TV would scroll down the screen in dreadful monotony. Alas, I will report the high/ and not- so- highlights in 5 sentences or less.
1. I had Mono. (Lesson learned: Do not make out with fictitious High School boys named Kevin.)
2. I spent 3 weeks in bed. (Lesson learned: Developed life experiences through the subplots on my favorite shows.)
3. Played music/ Saw music (Lesson Learned: Rock shows can be very therapeutic.)
4. Ate too much turkey (Lesson learned: Exercises in stomach stretching is less scientific and more painful.)
5. Participated in Fallon Family holiday traditions: We cut down a beautiful tree and soon it will sit in my father's living room tall, proud and full of Christmas. I walked the equivalent of Texas shopping at the outlets with Mom. (Lesson learned: The supreme holiday joy experienced as a child is overshadowed by adult foot pain.)

RHTL (Red Headed Terror League) REPORT:

The RHTL are working toward bringing music to the masses. Movements toward RHTL DJ nights are progressing…more info to follow.

The Day After

2004-10-05T14:41:00.000-04:00

I've been trying to blog for hours. I feel dumb and inarticulate today.

The Killers

Irving Plaza
It was a great show with an enthusiastic crowd. I was not disappointed; I was, in fact, impressed. The played my favorite song last. After the show, a well-dressed army filed into the hall and down the stairs. Dana and I detoured to the bathroom area where a tiny drunk girl was screaming at the girls in the bathroom line. “Hey! Hey! Is this some kind of line for America’s Next Top Model? Isn’t this like America’s next top model? I don’t want to alarm anyone but my friend. Him! Him! He is that guy. You know, the guy who picks America’s next top Model.”
After eluding the drunken girl’s observation, Dana and I escaped to the after party.

The Dark Room
Well....It started out fine. We got to the Dark Room early and claimed the booth near the door. The Killers filed in and sat in our oblong semi-circle booth. We looked like Dominos, line up in our white in black uniforms. The lead singer, Brandon, was really nice and introduced himself to us, because we were all sitting there. Dana and I said at the same time: "Great show!" like a good pair of choreographed redheads. It kind of all went down hill from there. I think I only had two beers...but somehow I was wasted. I talked to the lead singer later about the band James after we caught each other bouncing around to “Laid”. I declared that the love of the band was a New York thing...He reminded me he was from Vegas. Later that night I would just grab both his arms and shout “hey!” acting on a bond that did not form.

I was annoyed that no one was dancing at the after party (I think). It was the usual convention for the mutual admiration costumed hipsters gang (MACHG). Although, credit is due to the event for no guest list, no cover, and no VIP section,I would have like to see more dancing…maybe it would have slowed the even, breezy pace of my beer sipping, saving me from the piercing pain pounding in my brain.

I got home at 3:30 slept for 3 hours and ran to work with a pale interpretation of last nights make up and hair. I'm actually sleeping right now as I type.

I didn’t realize how drunk I was until Dana reminded me of events that I unconsciously glazed over in my mind. Http://peppermint-patty.blogspot.com/

I took fists full of water in the face.

2004-10-04T17:12:00.000-04:00

Saturday night nipped the air, perfect with a crisp autumn chills. Finally it’s fall. In celebration my family participated in our yearly Halloween tradition this Saturday, the Headless Horseman Haunted Hayride in Kingston, New York. We usually go closer to October 31st, but this was the only weekend my mother could attend. My Mother, with enthusiastic, childlike exuberance literally bounces through each frightful treat. Halloween is her favorite and her enjoyment is a thrill to watch.

This year I took a friend with me. I had hoped to make it grand group affair with newly acquainted friends and old friends scaring up Kingston together, picking pumpkins and apples all the way back to the city. But alas, scheduling did not permit. Perhaps later in the month, Upstate New York has many frightful options in October. As the “new victim,” I was certain my friend’s face would be scrutinized at every alarming turn for reactions.

A tractor pulled hay pile rolled up to our line and we were beckoned on by a misshaped crow character. I did not find the crow or what the crow had to say remotely scary. In fact it was difficult to hear the laborious hayride exposition about some boogeyman scarecrow delivered in failed stand up comedy. What dribbled out of the prosthetic beak was no match for my low grumblings: “shut up, shut up, and shut up stupid crow.”

The highlight of the ride was the terrifying man with the working chainsaw that came at me like I killed his puppy. Though there was no blade, the mechanism had fast moving parts and a distinct gasoline smell. I screamed. I look forward to the rest of the ride, the corn field maze and the two haunted houses with my mother's matched enthusiam. As we were nearing the end of our hay expedition we came upon a costumed young man and a rubber chicken. Unbeknownst to me the young man had filled the rubber chicken with what must have been a gallon of water. He smacked the chicken with a rubber mallet hurling said gallon of water directly into my face. I was drenched. My friend, Brother and a couple of now grumpy strangers were covered in water. It was cold. We were cold and angry. As the hay truck pulled away from this horrible young man I saw him smirking at his wet work. As a true New Yorker I flipped him off as we rolled into the distance.

It was an unmatched feat; it takes a lot for me to flip off a high school student in a goblin costume, but there I was cold, wet, with my middle finger fully extended.

The remainder of the evening was fun and without incident.

Tonight I see The Killers with Dana.

Yay!

The Truth From a Liar

2004-10-01T14:26:00.000-04:00

With a very close friend and Grandmother in the hospital battling serious afflictions, I turned to a vigorous foreign policy debate and beer.

I joined a crowd already gathered around the television in a Brooklyn apartment, anticipating the gems that would enviably fall from W’s lips like drool from a baby. I vigorously sipped beer. A room filled to the corners with tipsy anti-Bushers took turns commenting on their favorite Bush debatisms, i.e. spreading liberty, flip flopping, and my favorite: “it’s hard work and people are working hard, I saw them on my TV screen.” Kerry spoke well, thoughtful and well versed. In comparison, Bush was reduced to a riled up little man, angry about people on his lawn.

This morning I dragged my self into the office, cursing my sippy beer and fancying an egg and cheese sandwich. Three co-workers, with inquisitive eyes, took turns alerting me to the lack of sleep written across my face. The comments were followed by good news; I over-looked their prying. There was free breakfast in the conference room! As soon as breached the conference room B threshold, charming aromas combined in my nostrils, spreading a smile across my face. As if lit by angels, the steaming bagels, chocolate covered doughnuts, fruit, and coffee where laid out before me as if gifted by the gods. I ate a bagel with cream cheese and a chocolate covered doughnut. The day then seemed presentable.

More coffee.

Stuck in a Pile

2004-09-28T16:51:00.000-04:00

My Blog cries in the corner throwing crumpled up post-its at me inbetween sobs.
I scream "not today, you big baby, I've got much too much work to do."

For a description of my notable weekend activities please see the Bears Will Attack link on the right hand side of the screen; follow the link to the Monday, September 27, 2004 entry; read until you recognize my name.

I promise to write tomorrow after the smoke clears from this dreadfully long pursuit in paper pushing and big man boss town appeasing.

My Blog hushes and smiles a little.

I'm in Love with Sun

2004-09-23T10:11:00.000-04:00

I was enraptured by the way the sun painted me on the sidewalk, tall and thin like a supermodel. I swung my arms admiring the graceful beauty in the movement of such delicate limbs. I turned the corner. The tall buildings extinguished my magical light and I was stuck between talk on cell phone business suit and coffee drinking newspaper reader for the duration of my commute to the subway. They both took turns bumping into me, as it was impossible for either to walk a straight line. They never looked up.

Tonight the Debutantes play Matchless in Brooklyn. It should be an easy, laid back, super fun show in a new small venue. I’m looking forward to it and will celebrate properly by wearing tall, improper red, high-heeled boots.

The Healing Powers of a Pork Quesadilla

2004-09-22T13:55:00.000-04:00

Today is the fall Equinox.

"On the Equinox this is the motion of the Sun through the sky for everyone on earth. Every place on earth experiences a 12 hours day twice a year on the Spring and Fall Equinox." (the stick figure represents "Everyone" on Earth. You look good in sticks.)

It is rumored that during the exact minute of the equinox an egg can literally stand straight up without assistance from a human hand. The equinox was today at 12:30pm and me without a raw egg. I tried to balance paper clips, scissors, m&m’s and other assorted office props with complete failure. The egg stipulation seems to be iron clad. With the other objects falling miserably in embarrassed defeat, and never actually seeing this experiment succeed (not even on Mr. Wizard) I confirmed it a myth. As I was mentally jotting down the free standing egg as urban legend I receive a call from my mother. She spoke with hurried excitement. She proudly declared that “Science is Marvelous!” She performed the experiment with her co-workers like children in science period and it did in fact work. The egg stood motionless for a whole minute while the Earth enjoyed the equinox. She quickly dismissed me from the call to call everyone she knew. (The Fallons, in general, tend to over react; we are a dramatic people.)

I can't wait until autumn brings me hot apple cider, pumpkin & apple picking, rust color leaf kicking, haunted hayrides and wooly sweaters. I will wait right here until they come.

XO
J.F.

The Weekend in like a Lion, out like a lamb

2004-09-21T11:26:00.000-04:00

Friday:

Knee deep in renovation packages, the stapler jammed and photo copier quit in protest of scanning such boring and tedious material, over and over and over again. I finally completed the work given to me at a tardy hour when my boss proposed a redevelopment with the renovation package rendering the pile of collated, labeled stacks obsolete. It was 6:30 when I finally left the office to head home to the left over pasta I made the night before. I toiled over a homemade tomato sauce, laden with basil and lots and lots of garlic, and was looking forward revisiting it sooner than later. I must admit it was a success and if I could bathe all my food in it for the rest of my life I would be a happier person for it.

A neighbor kindly let me into my apartment building after an awkward time passed between us as I chanted “if got it, I’ve got it” fumbling for my keys. She gave the best of chances and then finally her desire to get into the building over powered her wanting the small victory for me; I didn’t blame her. My small bag’s interior grew as I thrusted my hand inside into each corner pulling out lip gloss, cell phone, bobby pins, wallet, book, weird magnet from Cancun I took home from work a week ago, but no keys. I threw the bag on the floor, got on my knees and ripped it open dumping the contents on the hallway floor. All the while, my starving cat screamed at me from behind the door. Panic stuck, no Keys!

Like a rational, calm person I imagined never being able to get back into the apartment, living life like a vagabond getting by on wink and smile, my cat dying from neglect and loneliness, worrying about the plans I had later that evening and not wanting to wear my work clothes to them, imaging the phone call to the ex-boyfriend who still had a set of keys he was remiss to return, seeing the look on my mother’s face with her daughter’s continued irresponsible behavior as the apartment burned down from the inside as I stood trapped outside the door. I remained on my knees, praying I missed them and if I only reached slowly back in the bag the keys would appear. No keys!

I left the bulk of my packages at the door and set out into the rest of the building for clues, signs of life. I remembered an inspection certificate in the vestibule that included the landlord’s number. Ah ha…the landlord has another set of keys. Brilliant! I placed my foot inside the apartment door and reached my body around to get a look at the Certificate. I didn’t want to get trapped out of the building completely, in case I had to spend the cold night on the hallway floor (these were not rational times.) I got the number and called Joe the landlord who promised to be at the building in a half an hour to rescue me from certain death alone on the streets, vulnerable to wild, rabid dog attacks and muggers.

I had thirty minutes to kill. I called a couple of friends to share with them the “typical Jaime” story. No one was surprised with 1.me locking my keys in the apartment, 2. my gross over reaction. I dreamed of my couch and television as I wandered the streets in pursuit of 20 minutes worth of killing time activities. I ordered Chinese food, waited, bought it, took it back to my stoop to keep me company with my book while I waited for Joe the Landlord who arrived when promised. He had kind, non-judgmental eyes and delivered a set of keys directly into my hand, as if guided by angels.

I was in! The cat was fed! We were happy! What ever happened to that kind landlord during the course of the evening I do not know; I ate Chinese food, sat in front of the television, dressed up in fishnet tights and went out dancing with Dana, Abby and the two Andys. I found I had a greater appreciation for life’s treasures, friends, dancing, music, fishnets having been homeless for a whole 30 minutes.

The Battle of 332

2004-09-17T13:20:00.000-04:00

This is the story of the struggle between Dirty Dish the Second of The Sink and Dust Bunny of Undercouch. The prize to the victor was the throne of Apartment 332.

The year was 2004
An event so significant, it completely changed the course of 332 history. To speak of this battle without recourse to the events that came before, would be an injustice to the broom resting perilously in the corner. What makes this event so important to the Broom is the immutable fact that it was the last time any foreign power was to conquer her.

Dust Bunny of Undercouch’s men had been arriving all day in small groups. These men had fought many battles, were haggard, and leaving bits of their dusty bodies about the apartment. Despite the hardships, the troop’s morale must have been quite high. A victory over the broom boosted their confidence, but not their numbers. How many veterans of Undercouch were at the kitchen exchange? It was clear that they would have to reunite in the pass toward greasy sink to wage battle over Dirty Dishes’s men for Apartment supremacy. Dust Bunny of Undercouch knew verbal negotiations would be futile; battle was inevitable

Dust Bunny of Undercouch made the decision to fight Dirty Dish the Second of The Sink before he could consolidate. Dirty Dishes’s numbers were growing and strategically placed about the apartment. Soda glass of the Freewith Pump was stationed high on night stand hill, while soiled plate of bread crumbs crouched over coffee table plains. The location of the battle was chosen with care by Dust Bunny. Floor mat ally in the pass to the kitchen was chosen for a number of reasons:
1. It was well known in the area. 2.
2. It gave a natural advantage because of its natural visibility and it’s easy to cling to carpet surfaces. Dust Bunny’s men could hide easily in the folds.

Why Dust Bunny chose to fight Dirty Dish the next day has always been something of a mystery. If he had waited another day for his full force to arrive, including the rolling hair ball of cat, the outcome may have been totally different. He was impatient and thirsty for the oily residue of death. If he waited he would have been informed of third party troops marching North in from the outside, led by the extraordinary Duke Swift of Black & Decker “The Dust Buster.” On that very day Swift’s armies converged with the already allied General soft Soap and Earl Sponge of Four Pack Package. These three formidably forces were commissioned by the ailing Queen Broom of 332. Together they took down both Dirty Dish the Second of The Sink and Dust Bunny of Undercouch with surgical justice. There remains were not seen for days to follow until small brigades left standing collaborated and united to rise again.

If Dust Bunny of Undercouch was nothing else he was his father’s son, a patriot through and through. His father defied the queen when he refused to punish the people of Undercouch when they were abused by Dirt Dish the second of Sink or “The dust Buster”, and paid the consequences.

Fate Smiles

2004-09-17T13:13:00.000-04:00

After a number of cheap, happy hour, frozen Margaritas at Harry's Burritos, Dana, Brian and I wandered into a shoe story. I bought boots. That's right the "fat calved Dummy" fit into a stylish pair of low boots. I was so excited! I bought them on the spot. The adrenaline made me do it! (maybe the tequilla)

Booze and Shoes

2004-09-15T11:18:00.000-04:00

In a world of women’s competitive shoe shopping, I am a fat calved dummy.

Katie and I walked into a small room pulsing with affluent young women hoped up on champagne and mushroom tartlets, devouring eyefuls of shoes. The walls were striped in satin; at any moment I would not have been surprised if some greater power peeled the lid from the elegant shoebox we found ourselves in.

We grabbed our complimentary glass of champagne, hugging the corners of the room, scared to swim with the sharks until the bubbles did their trick. With our glasses half empty, we skimmed past the walls admiring pairs as they glittered, shined, laced, pointed and pulled at us, begging to be held, to be worn. We passed quickly commenting in hushed whispers and found the least intimidating sales man in a pink polo to grab the most intimidating pair of shoes/boots in the room. I tried on a pair of high heeled boots that would have made me feel delightfully wicked if they were able to slip past my unusually shaped calves. My calf muscle sit low on my leg, like my father's, making nearly impossible to feel delicate in boots or fit into delicate boots. I thought our kind-eyed sales man was going to cry as he rambled through a myriad of reasons the boots didn’t fit except the obvious one. I appreciated his efforts and made some self-deprecating jokes and moved on to a shorter boot, with the same devastating results.
The salesman responded: “oooooooooh, so sad.”
To which I replied: “It’s ok. I know my place.”
Truth be told, I was pleased they didn’t fit; I had a sound reason for not making a purchase that would have sent my finances in a downward spiral for a very, very long time.

Katie tried on a pair of pink satin low heeled shoes with a wide black ribbon crossed in the front. They increased the net worth of her feet like heaven wrapped packages. We wisely put the shoes back and devised our escape plan.

We looked once again around the room as the frenzy mounted boxes upon boxes. Women peeled off fancy shoes, throwing on new ones, seeing how they feel in conversation. As we looked at these women lounging in $300 dollar shoes, our pretend “fancy” was wearing thin quick. We exited and walked cross town into a two for one happy hour, where we belonged.

What would it be like to have so much money you could command a fancy shoe store?
I will never know.

RECAP

2004-09-13T15:44:00.001-04:00

The Republican Conventions:
Stepping off an over priced, extremely long DC train ride into a inexpensive luxurious hotel room, slipping into an enormous king size bed and leaping out into the finest terry cloth robe I never bought, running into the Smithsonian, face to face with giant pre-historic sloths, sitting in stadium seating, watching the lamest T-rex 3D movie ever created, meeting new people listening to Shakespearean actors, visiting friends, driving through hurricane force rain into 5 hours of stalled traffic and a drowning Richmond of Virginia, through the outer banks of North Carolina onto the beach into two bottles of wine on to the Island of Ocrakoke and back home to a lonely cat in New York City.

The Week following the Conventions:
A display of Debutantes, a room full of celebrities, crowded and not-so crowded dance floors, Franz Ferdinand, Britpop, forcing UK Musicians to rub elbows with the like of we three: Abby, Dana and I, wedding anniversaries filled with faces from numerous stories told to me during a course of five months and Jarvis Cocker and no Jarvis Cocker, drunken affirmations, and “rude and nasty” behavior.

Yesterday:
The season finale of a Sunday night tradition with shocking and horrific discoveries and the beginning of a new school year for all of us.
I’ve resigned to abandon my laziness generally associated with my simple life tasks: debt reconciliation, laundry, cleaning the house, leaving the house. With the renewal of the school year/ television season marks the end of summer. I am pressed to make a new year’s resolution early. I’ve found that prior resolutions and desire to accomplish small goals fall quickly as cool autumn breezes chase the leaves from the trees. Adopting a semi-annual resolution program would help bolster my plans. Or…maybe I will just watch television, eat artificial cheese from a can from the couch all winter and call it a wash until the warm weather returns next year.

Currently:
It's back to the old caffeine dispenser for another shot of liquid awake.

Tomorrow:
Booze and Shoes

2004-08-27T13:53:00.000-04:00

I am off, away, far away from the world of binary codes and html. I stepping from my office door into vacation time and planned trips abroad. I couldn’t be more excited by my well deserved time off that I plan to do it justice by filling my days well.

Friday afternoon:
I leave at three. This will be the last time I get to leave a three on a Friday until next summer. I’m already mourning its demise. As alluded to in my post yesterday, the three redheads: Abby, Dana and myself may get together to collaborate on our new musical project: a Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees influenced band (working title: Perfect Strangers.)

Friday Night:
Post laundry and packing Britpop dancing.

Saturday:
Finish The Debutantes demo and hop on a train headed to Washington where friends and a fancy hotel await my arrival. I am taking a super fast, super fancy Acela train that a friend once described as riding on butter. I will have to report on the smooth creaminess of my ride when I return. I plan to inappropriately occupy my time in the bar car and try not to morph into a business men as I will be surrounded by their droning for three long hours.

Saturday Night:
Arrive in DC, meet my friend Brian for dinner with his mom and her new husband and then off to a party hosted by his friend.

Sunday:
Wake up in fancy hotel and visit the restaurant downstairs that boasts having a large oak tree in the middle of the room. I can only hope that the urge to climb the tree does not beat down my inhabitations. I must make a mental note not to visit the tree whilst drunk on gin.

Sunday Night:
See my NYC transplant friend in Macbeth at the Shakespeare Theater. I will be attending the invited dress and feeling very important as I sit next to Kelly McGillis’s husband and Page Davis (both their spouses are in the play) while secretly hoping Kelly doesn’t show (My friend is her understudy). I will spend the night on the town with my friend in the play, which I hear in DC is an early one.

Monday – Friday
I, Brian and his green mini-van are headed to the Outer Banks to meet up with both our fathers, who are already there, separately with out knowledge of each other’s existence.

I plan to make full report when I return.

.

Summer Hours

2004-08-26T15:51:00.000-04:00

Perfect Strangers Unite!

Playing music on Friday afternoons away from work is brilliant.

2004-08-25T15:34:00.000-04:00

AT ROTHKO: (tonight)
Wed 25 - Two Special Performances BY Vincent Gallo
Two Special Performances In Conjunction With The Release Of His New Movie "Brown Bunny"
Vincent will be performing 2 shows w/ band mate Sean Lennon. This
rare live performance will include music from his Warp Records Release
"When”.
1st Performance Starts At 8 PM SOLD OUT!!, 2nd Performance Starts At 11 PM SOLD OUT!!

I can't help but be excited that we (The Debutantes) are playing Rothko two weeks from today.

My previous post today was very serious...I blame it on the constant Joy Division humming through my computer speakers.

Big Wig and Lots-o-Hair

2004-08-25T14:09:00.000-04:00

I’m feeling unmotivated and uninspired today.

The right words remain trapped inside while the wrong ones wage warfare for their escape. I feel it’s best to remain with my lips firmly pressed together. I’m hoping my communication obstacles will not translate into the written word. I haven’t had an opportunity to test this fear. I will be brief. Safety is a measure best employed in these situations. This certainly is not a time to talk to loved ones or people looking for honest answers, regretting the questions. It is a time to be cryptic and mysterious, until one can best express themselves without offense.

It’s amazing how we do not escape the patterns established in early social situations, i.e. elementary-middle school. The dramas people create to satisfy desires to be apart of something bigger than them, even if fabricated. Ah the tedious office drama. The backhanded completments and lines drawn in the sand.

I have had nothing but work projects and obstacles by fellow employees all afternoon. I haven't had time to write emails or get outside in the supremely beautiful weather. Sad. My bosses are on some sort of lunch pow wow...all those figure heads eating at the same time make me nervous and hungry for chocolate.

The Healing Powers of Stir Fry

2004-08-24T10:15:00.000-04:00

I’m old.

I used to be able to stay up till 3 am each night and get up the following morning at a decent hour.
I used to be able to spend the day at an amusement park and go out dancing that same night.
I used to be able to carry a bag of laundry home to parent’s house without injury.

I usually make it home to my Father or Mother’s house in Poughkeepsie each month. I ride the metro north with a great big sack of about a month’s laundry. This seems more logical: dragging an enormous sack miles away rather than down the block. This weekend was no different; me, the laundry and the train arrived in Poughkeepsie without incident and would appear to return without incident. I was wrong. I woke up early this morning with the worst neck pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. I couldn’t move my head to either side, making it near impossible to get to the kitchen where the relief could only be found in a large bottle of pain killers and a warm compress. I popped three pills and tried to get back to sleep. I suppose I did because I don’t think I was really climbing a mountain yoked about the neck and shoulders with stacks of hay while a pointy nosed wizard yelled and shot at me from his wand. When I woke up the second time I was in just as much pain as before. I can truly understand the saying: “Such a pain in the neck.” And…getting old, is such a pain in the neck.

Death and Glory: The Same Old Story

2004-08-23T10:49:00.000-04:00

After a weekend of death, belated birthday parties, and uncomfortable relatives encounters I am back at work and miles away from the funeral I was semi-obligated to attend. I have an intense aversion to wakes and funerals. I find it hard to control my emotions and I am too often overwhelmed with grief. I have no strong face. My face gives to any pressure; this is why I am not a good card player.

I had the occasion to play Texas Hold 'Em at my Brother's belated birthday party on Sunday. I lost my pile of blue, red and white chips in record time and secretly replenished my pile from "the bank," the cardboard container that held the remaining chips. This method kept me in the game until the other players got wise to my trickery. It wasn't until later that evening, after I had got my hands on my brother's IPOD and created a The Cure/ The Smith's/ New Order/The Clash heavy play list, did my luck change. Doesn't seem like you perform better when you've got good music in your ears?

My father purchased a keg for the occasion and everyone was a little tipsy. It seemed strange to see my relatives drunk. The last time we had a "full" family party I was considerably younger. I probably never noticed how drunk people were then; they just seemed more fun and interested in seeing you do a back flip off the diving board twenty times. Most relatives in attendance were my great aunts, uncles and my Grandmother from Punta Gorda, home of the great hurricane disaster. They are all well into their 80's now with advice continuously rolling from their lips. For example, my Grandmother, who thought my black and white striped top was too sexy, advised me to put on a sweater; I melted in a turquoise sweater in the 85 degree heat to appease her. She is one of 11 (the Italian Catholics and their rhythm method) so there was a great number in attendance. Most of them are in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's. There was a lot of identity confusion and older folks shouting inappropriate words. My great uncle called me over, he wanted to say "I want to give you some love" (as in an innocent hug) but the words came out "I want to make love to you." I made some joke about what was in his coca cola and then slinked into the house to sit out the rest of the party.

Everyone left the party early to attend my great aunt Lena's wake. Things were festive considering, festive and uncomfortable. I did eat a year's supply of onion dip in a half an hour's time; that has to be some kind of record...

I'm happy to be back in New York and longing for Saturday nights out dancing to good music.

GYM: I know that guy.

2004-08-20T15:16:00.000-04:00

After returning from an awesome stir fry lunch with Abby, a co-worker regaled me with tales from the gym locker room. A women with an obviously expensive breast augmentation refused to put her top on while fannying about in the locker room.

I rarely frequent a gym. When I have had an occasion to enter such an establishment I have been literally bombarded with reasons to leave. My work offers free admission to the neighboring Bally’s. Under false raves by a fellow co-worker, I was convinced to lace up my sneakers and get myself to a treadmill.

Jaime’s First Time at the Gym:
I enter with a keen sense of hope and dread swirling in my stomach. I’m careful not to look any of the stretchy material wearing employees in the eye because I am told the will try to “train” you on the spot. I slinked into a dressing room past a machinery crowed room heavy with sweat and desperation. Not two seconds after breaching the doorway’s threshold, I am face to face with a supremely naked woman applying generous amounts of moisturizer to her entire body; she will remain naked throughout her entire grooming process. There, next to her, sits a suitably large towel, taunting the rest of us from inside the locker. I keep thinking “put on the towel, put on the towel, oh Jesus, just put on the towel and please do not ask me a question.” She asks me a question.

Naked lady: “Excuse me, do you know the time?” She is very polite, which for some reason shocked me, I assumed the naked a rude sort; I was obviously mistaken.

Me (eyes permanently fixed to the floor): “err...ugh…I’m not sure. Sorry.” I ran to the bank of lockers and hid behind an open locker door to begin my Junior High School routine of removing and putting on clothing with out exposing a lick of flesh. In the distance, I could hear the women pose the question two more times until a brave soul answered and was subsequently engaged in conversation. I dodge a bullet.

Feeling confident and full of vigor from minutes of “bullet” & naked people dodging I headed out in the thick air to begin what can only be called an attempt to “exercise.” I tried the treadmill. Apparently I was walking all wrong because I got the attention of many stretchy material employees with helpful advice on how to walk properly. I had tried to explain that it was something I’ve been doing for some time, 25 years to be exact, with much success. At which, point I was then shown how to walk by a very large muscled man in red, who then tried to pitch me training sessions.

My only reply was: “to learn to walk?!” He laughed and continued pitching. Words were thrown around like excessive alcohol, couch potato, not in too bad of shape, full body toning, extreme pain you would never know again (I made up the last one)… In the end he felt that my “exercise prescription” should only be 6 months two times a week and he promises to burn my ass right off my body. I politely decline and continue “walking” the only damn way I know how. This scenario similarly played out each time I tried different equipment, getting chased off as soon as I started.

I haven’t been back to the gym since and my ass is still firmly placed on my body where is belongs.

Revenge: Your Such a Dish

2004-08-19T15:20:00.000-04:00

Recently I've been privy to an alarming amount of tales of betrayal, hurt and rejection. If the world curves and swings in a metaphysical flow, we must be in a down swing (hopefully already on our way back up.) Different people handle their pain and healing in different ways (we're all snow flakes or some trite business such as that) but revenge is the most interesting path to discuss:

A list of revenge tactics someone has actually done or wanted to do to another someone:
Unusual or extreme:

Filling out many tasteless, the more pornographic the better, magazine subscription cards to be sent to the person's work. (A friend of mine did this to her hateful boss who unjustly fired her.)
Posting naked pictures of your ex on the Internet
The hurtee calling the hurter's cell phone repeatedly from a pay phone leaving it off the hook (for a quarters worth) draining their minutes and padding their phone bill. (This works best when the person in question is between apartments and jobs.)
Making out with someone your heart's killer is currently making out with to spite him.
Putting gum in the individual's Disc man.
Discarding one sock from each of the adulterer's pairs.

The Usual:

Trashing personal property
Spreading nasty rumor
Going out with the best friend or relative
Not caring about the other person.

*List does not represent the views of the management. The management does not condone the behavior listed above. Though Management may have participated in a couple, I like to think I carry forgiveness in our heart.

Mount Olympius

2004-08-18T12:00:00.000-04:00

10 Things I’ve learned over wine, watching the Olympics:

Gymnastics no longer “stick the landing,” which used to be the benchmark to their performance.
Gymnasts’ figures are distracting. While marveling at the short, wide shouldered, heavily glittered, pony tailed, sparkle leotarded muscles I was almost distracted from the not “sticking the landing.”
Olympic athletes’ are not what they were; this is exasperated by the Ancient Olympian allusions during the games’ stay in Athens, (and directly related to item 1.) I wanted to see someone jump hard on something sprained for the team.
The games were more exciting when the athletes peeked from behind the red curtain to battle the capitalists in a showcase of will and strength. Imagine Rocky IV if Ivan Drago was not a powerful yet arrogant Soviet fighting his own “cold war” in the ring. It would just be two beefy guys bouncing around to “Eye of the Tiger.”
The coaches aren’t as scary or loud.
The male Swimmers look like exclamation points (this observation was offered by a friend.)
I prefer the Winter Olympics.
I was even more disappointed in US loses after seeing the athlete’s inspirational short prior to the event i.e. overcome hardship to reach this moment only to fail in front of the world.
I outwardly laughed when a young gymnast come off the uneven bars into a mat face plant, and then felt bad about it.
I predominantly watched gymnastics and mourned my misspent youth and stationary lifestyle vowing to take up jogging the very next day.

Friday The 13th

2004-08-13T13:17:00.000-04:00

Yesterday and last night were madness. I was unable to post yesterday. I'm feeling ashamed of my diligent behavior so soon after my blog's inception. Alas, to over compensate I am attempting to write the longest post I can muster on a Friday afternoon.

The Longest Post Ever

Am I a superstitious person? Well, I dont find myself readily breaking mirrors, stepping on cracks, spilling salt, walking under ladders or spying black cat crossing my path on Friday the 13th. If there are certain unseen other world powers operating on us without or knowledge why tempt fate?

On this Friday the 13th, with a bomb scare across the street this morning, I started thinking on superstitions; this one specifically. What's its historical reference? Do we will the "unlucky" by looking for it on this particular day? I asked the World Wide Web about this World Wide Superstition

Friday the 13th
It is said: If 13 people sit down to dinner together, all will die within the year.
The Turks so disliked the number 13 that it was practically expunged from their vocabulary (Brewer, 1894). Many cities do not have a 13th Street or a 13th Avenue.
Many buildings don't have a 13th floor.
If you have 13 letters in your name, you will have the devil's luck (Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy and Albert De Salvo all have 13 letters in their names).
There are 13 witches in a coven.
It is said: Never change your bed on Friday; it will bring bad dreams.
Don't start a trip on Friday or you will have misfortune.
If you cut your nails on Friday, you cut them for sorrow.
Ships that set sail on a Friday will have bad luck as in the tale of H.M.S. Friday ... "One hundred years ago, the British government sought to quell once and for all the widespread superstition among seamen that setting sail on Fridays was unlucky. A special ship was commissioned, named "H.M.S. Friday." They laid her keel on a Friday, launched her on a Friday, selected her crew on a Friday and hired a man named Jim Friday to be her captain. To top it off, H.M.S. Friday embarked on her maiden voyage on a Friday, and was never seen or heard from again."

Possible origins
Ancient Egyptians: To ancient Egyptians life was the 12 stage process toward a heavenly afterlife. Therefore, the 13th stage represented death. Scholars believe that this Egyptian idea of 13 was perverted into symbol of death & fear from its original glorious, soul ascension representation

Patriarchal religions: 13 represented femininity; the womens cycle in a year (13 x 28 = 364 days.) As the solar calendar (12 / male) triumphed over the lunar Calendar (13/ female) 13 became taboo.

Loki: The gods held a banquet excluding Loki, the evil one who attended regardless. He was the 13th guest. He raised hell and turned the affair into a blood bath. Since then it is believed that a 13 guest dinner party is unlucky (associated with death.)

The Bible: The last supper had 13 in attendance with one quest betraying him. The crucifixion was on a Friday.
Eve tempted Adam with the Apple on a Friday.

In Pagan culture, Friday was execution day.

Some thought that unlucky Friday and unlucky 13 became associated on a day of great catastrophe: The legend of the Knights of Templar

Or maybe its just that Unlucky Friday + Unlucky 13 = Unluckier Friday.

Some scholars suspect its essentially 20th-century media hype. We are still answering unanswerable questions with superstition.

Much congratulations if you are still reading this obsessive historical/ pseudo-philosophical rambling. I'm not sure if I feel worse or better.

In case of Terror

2004-08-11T14:27:00.000-04:00

My place of employment has equipped each employee with the necessary tools to survive a terror attack. Each employees has received a survival kit containing the following:

1 liter of water,
one flash light with appropriate batteries attached by duct tape,
one filter mask, and
one can of terrorist repellent.

(I've added one long toothed comb to the zip lock bag)

With such an arsenal I am no longer nervous and can go about my work day smiling and humming.