7.31.2005
It's mine!! ...My preciousssss
The e-fer is here safe and sound! But not at 2 or 3 in the morning as originally stated. Apparently the luggage spent the night in San Carlos -- which, by the way, is nowhere near in between San Francisco and Santa Rosa, but completely in the opposite direction. Instead, it got here at 11:15am -- 45 minutes before I had to leave for Bear Valley. But whatever. I have the instrument. I hate American Airlines.
7.30.2005
The joys of airline travel....
Ok, in about one month minus 1 day, I am officially not getting on another airplane for another 10 years. Just kidding. When I start getting homesick around the holidays, I will be rethinking that sentiment, but until then....
*** As a disclaimer, let me add that there is a good chance that if your name is Heather Klenow, you will hate me after reading this story. Please don't hate me!! I meant no harm! As you read this story, Heather, just keep in mind that it eventually has a happy ending, and let that soothe the guaranteed anger you will justifiably be feeling towards my insurmountable stupidity!!! ***
So let me tell you the spectacle I made of myself at the San Francisco airport earlier this evening.
I had finally landed in California after yet another miserable day of flying the unfriendly skies (which, by the way, started off with Scott having to pull over on Alcoa Highway on the way to the airport in Knoxville so I could vomit out the side of the car. The gods were warning me...) and was waiting at the baggage carousel for my two pieces of checked luggage. Waiting waiting waiting. Finally, about 30 minutes later and after all but two other passengers had come and gone, I received one of my bags. The one with souvenirs for my family from Japan and nothing else. I kept waiting for my larger, slightly more important, piece of luggage -- the one with all my clothes, shoes, personal items, phone charger ... and Heather's eb clarinet. Despite a voice in my head telling me that I should try to carry the instrument on board with me, I instead decided to pack the clarinet in my suitcase (very carefully, Heather! Very carefully!!) so I wouldn't be given any grief by the airline for having too many carry-ons. Anyway, when the carousel stopped moving, I believe I went into a sort of shock/panic thinking of all the scenarios that might have happened. Did someone take my luggage by mistake? On purpose?? Did the airline lose my luggage??!! I headed over to the parcel services counter where there were seriously like 7 other passengers from my flight asking about luggage that never came. I was last to get in line since, while the others were calmly making the steps to retrieve their lost luggage, I was still standing by the unmoving carousel staring into space with unblinking eyes while I may or may not have peed in my pants a little. In line at the counter, I started to think of all the things I would have to do to make up to Heather the fact that I had just lost her virtually brand-new wonderful eb clarinet which she had been so generous to let me borrow. My eyes began to well up thinking about how much I would miss my kidneys and left leg after I had sold them on the black market for the money to replace the instrument. As I neared my turn at the counter, Scott called and -- as he tried to tell me that this sort of thing happens all the time and that I would get my luggage back -- I started crying right there in front of the American Airlines (grrrr.... GRRRRR!!!!!) employees and passengers. I got off the phone with Scott in just enough time to talk to the woman at the counter. I attempted to wipe the tears from my eyes in an attempt to persuade everyone there that I had indeed not just been blubbering like a baby about some stupid lost piece of luggage. It obviously had not worked, however, since the woman at the counter looked at me like I was a crazy person and the guy being helped next to me kept giving me worried (puzzled? amused?!) sideways glances. I managed to gather my composure eventually, until the woman asked me for three things inside the suitcase that would make it easily identifiable as mine, and I lost it all over again as I tried to explain that there was an expensive instrument inside. I believe it went something like this: "There's an e-f-f-flat c-clarinet... Like a clar-ar-arinet only s-s-s-sm-smaller... Um-um-ummm... It's inside a black -- no no no, I m-m-ean brown -- like rectangular case. And the c-c-clarinet is ins-s-s-side the c-case..." Seriously. Eventually, after I finished blubbering the woman at the counter told me that the luggage would be delivered to me within 24 hours at my parents' house in Santa Rosa. Which presented a whole new set of problems because in exactly 24 hours I had to be checked in at the Bear Valley music festival, 4 hours away from Santa Rosa, where I would be playing said clarinet. As I was walking away to catch the bus to Santa Rosa, I asked the woman at the counter if she could tell me where exactly my bag was at the moment, whereupon I was told, "Oh, it's probably in Chicago..." In the words of a former musicology professor: Fie on you, American Airlines!!
Anyway, long story short, I called the airline twice later to check on the status of my luggage, but was continually told that my bag had not come in on any of the incoming flights from Chicago and they were still waiting for it to arrive. At this point I went upstairs to my bedroom, curled up into a fetal position and drifted off into a state of blissful denial-laced hibernation.
And theeeeen: dun-da-da-DUN!!! My mommy knocked on the door asking if I wanted her to check with the airline one more time, at which point I, of course, still being a 12-year old child inside, said yes. 10 minutes later or so she came back to tell me that the luggage had FINALLY been located and that it would be delivered by 2 or 3 this morning (PST). Huzzah!!! I can keep my body parts after all! And I can go to Bear Valley without fear of being fired for not having an eb clarinet for Shostakovich 5!! And Heather doesn't have to fully hate me after all!! Although, of course, Heather, you should hate me just a little for putting your instrument under such peril. I will bring back glorious organic goodies from Northern California to buy back your friendship.
Lesson #1: American Airlines sucks. They make you pay $400 for a ticket on a crummy plane with no in-flight movie -- and then make you pay another $3 on the plane in order to receive your "snack," which is essentially a small cardboard box in which they put a tiny package of chips and salsa, cheese dip, sausage and cookies. I think not!! My super fancy personally made trail mix from Fresh Market will serve me just fine, thanks.
Lesson #2: Any competent musician knows this: Do not check your instruments in if you can help it in any way shape or form. Always carry it on with you! What was I thinking? I've never done this before. Gah. Stupid momentary brain fart. More like brain diarrhea. Never again!!
Lesson #3: Although it cannot be helped many times -- especially when you're as surprisingly emotionally fragile as I can be at times (blah) -- crying in public (about a clarinet, for Christ's sake!) is a surefire way of getting people to look at you strangely. No matter how ultra-chic you may look in your leather kitten-heeled sandals and fantastic gold woven top purchased in Tokyo, Japan.
PS. I'm still working on that photo-journal of our trip to Tokyo. It's quite a painstaking process.
Not really. I've just been incredibly lazy this week. Get off my case.
*** As a disclaimer, let me add that there is a good chance that if your name is Heather Klenow, you will hate me after reading this story. Please don't hate me!! I meant no harm! As you read this story, Heather, just keep in mind that it eventually has a happy ending, and let that soothe the guaranteed anger you will justifiably be feeling towards my insurmountable stupidity!!! ***
So let me tell you the spectacle I made of myself at the San Francisco airport earlier this evening.
I had finally landed in California after yet another miserable day of flying the unfriendly skies (which, by the way, started off with Scott having to pull over on Alcoa Highway on the way to the airport in Knoxville so I could vomit out the side of the car. The gods were warning me...) and was waiting at the baggage carousel for my two pieces of checked luggage. Waiting waiting waiting. Finally, about 30 minutes later and after all but two other passengers had come and gone, I received one of my bags. The one with souvenirs for my family from Japan and nothing else. I kept waiting for my larger, slightly more important, piece of luggage -- the one with all my clothes, shoes, personal items, phone charger ... and Heather's eb clarinet. Despite a voice in my head telling me that I should try to carry the instrument on board with me, I instead decided to pack the clarinet in my suitcase (very carefully, Heather! Very carefully!!) so I wouldn't be given any grief by the airline for having too many carry-ons. Anyway, when the carousel stopped moving, I believe I went into a sort of shock/panic thinking of all the scenarios that might have happened. Did someone take my luggage by mistake? On purpose?? Did the airline lose my luggage??!! I headed over to the parcel services counter where there were seriously like 7 other passengers from my flight asking about luggage that never came. I was last to get in line since, while the others were calmly making the steps to retrieve their lost luggage, I was still standing by the unmoving carousel staring into space with unblinking eyes while I may or may not have peed in my pants a little. In line at the counter, I started to think of all the things I would have to do to make up to Heather the fact that I had just lost her virtually brand-new wonderful eb clarinet which she had been so generous to let me borrow. My eyes began to well up thinking about how much I would miss my kidneys and left leg after I had sold them on the black market for the money to replace the instrument. As I neared my turn at the counter, Scott called and -- as he tried to tell me that this sort of thing happens all the time and that I would get my luggage back -- I started crying right there in front of the American Airlines (grrrr.... GRRRRR!!!!!) employees and passengers. I got off the phone with Scott in just enough time to talk to the woman at the counter. I attempted to wipe the tears from my eyes in an attempt to persuade everyone there that I had indeed not just been blubbering like a baby about some stupid lost piece of luggage. It obviously had not worked, however, since the woman at the counter looked at me like I was a crazy person and the guy being helped next to me kept giving me worried (puzzled? amused?!) sideways glances. I managed to gather my composure eventually, until the woman asked me for three things inside the suitcase that would make it easily identifiable as mine, and I lost it all over again as I tried to explain that there was an expensive instrument inside. I believe it went something like this: "There's an e-f-f-flat c-clarinet... Like a clar-ar-arinet only s-s-s-sm-smaller... Um-um-ummm... It's inside a black -- no no no, I m-m-ean brown -- like rectangular case. And the c-c-clarinet is ins-s-s-side the c-case..." Seriously. Eventually, after I finished blubbering the woman at the counter told me that the luggage would be delivered to me within 24 hours at my parents' house in Santa Rosa. Which presented a whole new set of problems because in exactly 24 hours I had to be checked in at the Bear Valley music festival, 4 hours away from Santa Rosa, where I would be playing said clarinet. As I was walking away to catch the bus to Santa Rosa, I asked the woman at the counter if she could tell me where exactly my bag was at the moment, whereupon I was told, "Oh, it's probably in Chicago..." In the words of a former musicology professor: Fie on you, American Airlines!!
Anyway, long story short, I called the airline twice later to check on the status of my luggage, but was continually told that my bag had not come in on any of the incoming flights from Chicago and they were still waiting for it to arrive. At this point I went upstairs to my bedroom, curled up into a fetal position and drifted off into a state of blissful denial-laced hibernation.
And theeeeen: dun-da-da-DUN!!! My mommy knocked on the door asking if I wanted her to check with the airline one more time, at which point I, of course, still being a 12-year old child inside, said yes. 10 minutes later or so she came back to tell me that the luggage had FINALLY been located and that it would be delivered by 2 or 3 this morning (PST). Huzzah!!! I can keep my body parts after all! And I can go to Bear Valley without fear of being fired for not having an eb clarinet for Shostakovich 5!! And Heather doesn't have to fully hate me after all!! Although, of course, Heather, you should hate me just a little for putting your instrument under such peril. I will bring back glorious organic goodies from Northern California to buy back your friendship.
Lesson #1: American Airlines sucks. They make you pay $400 for a ticket on a crummy plane with no in-flight movie -- and then make you pay another $3 on the plane in order to receive your "snack," which is essentially a small cardboard box in which they put a tiny package of chips and salsa, cheese dip, sausage and cookies. I think not!! My super fancy personally made trail mix from Fresh Market will serve me just fine, thanks.
Lesson #2: Any competent musician knows this: Do not check your instruments in if you can help it in any way shape or form. Always carry it on with you! What was I thinking? I've never done this before. Gah. Stupid momentary brain fart. More like brain diarrhea. Never again!!
Lesson #3: Although it cannot be helped many times -- especially when you're as surprisingly emotionally fragile as I can be at times (blah) -- crying in public (about a clarinet, for Christ's sake!) is a surefire way of getting people to look at you strangely. No matter how ultra-chic you may look in your leather kitten-heeled sandals and fantastic gold woven top purchased in Tokyo, Japan.
PS. I'm still working on that photo-journal of our trip to Tokyo. It's quite a painstaking process.
Not really. I've just been incredibly lazy this week. Get off my case.
7.27.2005
Home sweet home
Am back from Tokyo. So jet-lagged. No desire or will-power to write words. Want to throw self out of nearby window at prospect of getting on another plane in 4 days.
Will attempt to write thoughtful and detailed account of Tokyo-trip sometime in upcoming days...
Will attempt to write thoughtful and detailed account of Tokyo-trip sometime in upcoming days...
7.17.2005
Tokyo bound!!!
Countdown to Tokyo: 10 hours...
Ok, so this will essentially be my last post before we leave for Tokyo. WOOO! The unfortunate part is that I have been feeling nauseous all day. If any of you have any free time tonight, feel free to make a virgin sacrifice to the anti-vomit gods for me that I feel better before we take off -- or those 18 hours on the plane will be the most miserable 18 hours of my entire life (and probably the worst 18 hours of my seat mates' lives as well...).
Anyhoo, I'm too distracted (and near-vomitous) to type anymore. My apologies! If I'm feeling super-devoted to this blog, I may chance to post a few words whilst in Tokyo ... but seeing as how that will take away precious moments from the upcoming sake- and sushi-fest (and clarinerd time......), that will be a long shot. Also, I have to remember to buy some friends some promised souvenirs in between said fests:
Sarah L. : postcard (this may be purchased and composed in Tokyo, but sent in Knoxville...)
Elizabeth: Japanese candy
Jeremiah: anime (at this point I would call J a nerd, but I do not feel entitled to this time since I am going to a clarinet convention...)
April: Japanese unmentionable (hahaha)
In any case, wish us luck on our performance on Thursday morning and, should I attempt a hike of Mt. Fuji in the upcoming week, pray that my lungs do not suddenly cease function, causing me to get left behind and eaten by stealthy Japanese mountain goats.
Ok, so this will essentially be my last post before we leave for Tokyo. WOOO! The unfortunate part is that I have been feeling nauseous all day. If any of you have any free time tonight, feel free to make a virgin sacrifice to the anti-vomit gods for me that I feel better before we take off -- or those 18 hours on the plane will be the most miserable 18 hours of my entire life (and probably the worst 18 hours of my seat mates' lives as well...).
Anyhoo, I'm too distracted (and near-vomitous) to type anymore. My apologies! If I'm feeling super-devoted to this blog, I may chance to post a few words whilst in Tokyo ... but seeing as how that will take away precious moments from the upcoming sake- and sushi-fest (and clarinerd time......), that will be a long shot. Also, I have to remember to buy some friends some promised souvenirs in between said fests:
Sarah L. : postcard (this may be purchased and composed in Tokyo, but sent in Knoxville...)
Elizabeth: Japanese candy
Jeremiah: anime (at this point I would call J a nerd, but I do not feel entitled to this time since I am going to a clarinet convention...)
April: Japanese unmentionable (hahaha)
In any case, wish us luck on our performance on Thursday morning and, should I attempt a hike of Mt. Fuji in the upcoming week, pray that my lungs do not suddenly cease function, causing me to get left behind and eaten by stealthy Japanese mountain goats.
7.14.2005
Yay! I love me.
Countdown to Tokyo: 4 days, people!!!
 You are nurturing, kind, and lucky. Like mother nature, you want to help everyone. You are good at keeping secrets and tend to be secretive. A seeker of harmony, you are a natural peacemaker. You are good natured and people enjoy your company. You put people at ease and make them feel at home with you. |
I guess I can be good natured ... but only when I'm not being hormonal.
My sweetie (haHA!) comes home tomorrow! To celebrate I -- did you expect anything different? -- went to Target. Bought an Elle magazine (ugh. ...Why must I waste my precious dollars on mindless purchases just a few days before the Tokyo trip??!!), 26 hangers (I was the mistress of closet organization these past few days), a 2 liter of Diet Coke and some ice cream: Edy's Rocky Road and Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies...gghhhlllalllalllh -- that is the sound of Homer drooling, by the way. Anyhoo, it's time to jump in the shower and make myself pretty for a nighttime quartet rehearsal. Tokyo, here we come!!!
7.09.2005
Phew... that was a fun day of cartwheeling about the place. Haha. Anyway, so I am just way relieved that I finally got my passport since we leave for Tokyo in just over a week and I was freaking out that it may not come in time. Things were not helped when I called the passport agency (for the 10 thousandth time) a few days ago and the bitter and wholly unhelpful biz-natch on the other line could not tell me anything except that my application was still "in processing" in New Orleans and that she "could not guarantee that it was going to arrive" by the time I was originally told it would. So in desperation, I asked the woman to go ahead and charge the extra amount to my credit card necessary (*sigh* a bit less sushi and sake for me, I guess...hahaha) to expedite the process -- and when that was done, I asked her if this meant that I would receive the passport in time, to which she replied, "Well, there's no guarantees about anything, ma'am." Ugh! The nerve! Anyway, bygones bygones now that I have my precious passport. Whee!
The best part of the morning was when the postman came to the door while I was still in bed (I won't even tell you how late in the day it was...I'm too embarassed) and all I could think to do was throw a giant button-up shirt about me and throw my glasses on before I answered the door. I think the sight of me in my unkempt, crazy-haired glory may have freaked out the poor postman. Here is my fantastically accurate artistic rendering:
And no, I am not exaggerating about the hair.
The best part of the morning was when the postman came to the door while I was still in bed (I won't even tell you how late in the day it was...I'm too embarassed) and all I could think to do was throw a giant button-up shirt about me and throw my glasses on before I answered the door. I think the sight of me in my unkempt, crazy-haired glory may have freaked out the poor postman. Here is my fantastically accurate artistic rendering:
And no, I am not exaggerating about the hair.
How unfortunate for me (and the postman?). And as I am analyzing
my self-portrait, it comes to my attention that it looks like I am
giving a rather suggestive come-hither-esque gaze. Trust me when
I say that this was not the case. I was bleary-eyed from being awakened, that's all.
So that was that. Oh, and for some added kicks, check this out: http://www1.pacific.edu/~y-sarte/ . This was my first foray into website building when I was taking my infamous Comp 25 class as an undergrad...5 years ago!!! Ah, where has the time gone? Hahaha. I can't believe the website is still up. I think it will be quite plain to see just how much of a dweeb I was even then (for the full effect, make sure your speakers are on when the page is uploading...).
PS. It occurs to me that I am a horrible horrible aunt because -- in my laziness and lack of desire and motivation to post yesterday -- I neglected to wish my fabulous neice an online Happy 4th Birthday yesterday!!! She is the coolest little girl ever -- perhaps rivaled only by me when I was her age (haha) -- even when she is eating lipgloss and waking me up at God-awful hours of the morning (i.e. before 10am) when I am at home visiting. Happy Birthday Kat!! Get ready for some power-shopping when I see you next month!
Joy joy joy joy joy
Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport!
...For those who may be a bit confused, I will come back and explain the background and significance of this when I'm done doing cartwheels around the apartment...
...For those who may be a bit confused, I will come back and explain the background and significance of this when I'm done doing cartwheels around the apartment...
7.06.2005
Just because it's raining outside and I would rather be at the beach...
You Know You're From the California Bay Area When... |
Your combined household income is $140,000 and you can't afford shoes for the kids You think anything slower than DSL is barbaric, but can't get it in your neighborhood You know what DSL stands for You and your spouse almost come to blows deciding to hit Peet's or Starbucks You think that American food includes sushi, naan, pho, pesto and pad thai You met your neighbors once When asked about your commute you answer in time, not distance Even though you work 80 hours per week on a computer, for relaxation you read your email and peruse eBay You have worked at the same job for a year and people call you an 'old-timer' The T-shirts you value most were for products that never made it to market You can name four different programming languages and you are not a programmer You remember the names of the three closest cheap sushi joints, the location of all the Fry's in the area and which companies your friends work for that are going public in the next year, but don't know the name of the mayor Standing in line at Starbucks you wonder why the employees don't call a head hunter You work 6 miles from your home and spend two hours a day commuting and $40 a week on gas Winter is when your lawn grows too fast and summer is when it dies The median price of a house is $500,000...for 1200 sq. ft. with no yard because it's a town house You live on some of the richest farm land in the world but most of what you eat comes from South America on a boat Your best friend lives across town but you hardly ever see each other because after your commute you're too pooped to spend another hour driving to their home You have a master's degree in engineering but half the people in your department either didn't go to college or have history degrees, except if you have a master's from Stanford, in which case everyone in your department has a master's degree from Stanford You cringe when you see people in suits at your office, wondering if someone in management will make you stop wearing bunny slippers You plan your vacation so that you don't have to drive back from the airport in commute hours You don't go to sporting events unless you are given tickets by your employer You could sell your home and live like a king in 99% of the rest of the world, but don't because it would be difficult to move back. You have at least three computers at home. You own at least one domain on the Internet, probably several. You think it's normal to see chip-design software or relational databases advertised on freeway billboards. You know that California isn't just one big beach. You know that not everyone in California surfs. You know there's lots of skiing in California. You know your rotating outage block number at home and at work, and listen for them whenever there are rolling blackouts. If someone refers to "SunnytogaDeAnzavale Road", you laugh and know what they're talking about. You take your out-of-town friends to see the techie gadgets at Fry's. But you don't let them buy anything. You know how to recognize re-sealed returned electronics at Fry's. You don't ask the staff any questions at Fry's. You know they hire idiots and pass the savings on to you. You watch dot-com boomers go back to the states they came from, and the traffic gets better by the month. But you are home so you're not moving. You own a Sport Utility Vehicle and have never taken it off-road. You wouldn't know what to do if you tried. Same with all your friends. You don't know how to drive in snow. You're a road hazard when you visit the mountains. You think the horn and middle finger are essential driving tools. You think bicycles don't belong on the road. You think any car ahead of you doesn't belong on the road. Your out-of-state friends are impressed at how much money you make... until you tell them how much you pay for housing. You know that a "fixer-upper" home could cost a half-million dollars. You do a "California stop" at stop signs. And you think it's only Californians who call them that. You aren't bothered much by earthquakes because you're ready for them. But the thought of tornadoes and hurricanes terrifies you. You clearly remember where you were when the Loma Prieta quake hit. You know several funny stories about swimming pools in the quake. You can't recognize a thunderstorm without seeing lightning first. You cringe when a Southern Californian refers to highways like "the 101". It's just "101". No "the". You call low clouds "fog" even if they're hundreds of feet off the ground. At least once you have gone to San Francisco for the day wearing shorts and a t-shirt because it was a warm clear day in San Jose. And you froze your little *@#!% off in the fog, drizzle and wind. You say you're from Silicon Valley because no one knows where San Jose is. You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from the Bay Area. |
7.05.2005
Ah, last night... good times, good times.
Okay, so I know that I said it before, but I really must begin eating healthy -- starting tomorrow. I swear.
Last night I hung out at Jim's house in Karns with Elizabeth and April (Ben, as I suspected all along, decided to wuss out on me. Grr...). We had fun chatting over some ice-cold refreshments. And, of course, we blew up some fireworks in his backyard. I believe the highlights of that aspect of our evening were when 1) his insanely fearless dog Oscar (formerly Dante, formerly Tick-dog) decided to jump into some fireworks as it was shooting five-foot high flames. Luckily, he was not hurt; and 2) when April lit some fireworks, which then toppled over (or something? I don't really know what happened exactly) right before it set off and we were attacked by a billion dazzling balls of fire moving at lightning-fast speed. I believe I screamed like a little girl (which is okay since I am a girl and am, indeed, little). Luckily, none of us caught on fire. Ha ha.
Anyway, a little after 2 in the morning we decided to go to IHOP. Elizabeth, unfortunately, couldn't come because she had to work later that morning. (Ugh, people with jobs... How I long to be one of you!! Ha ha) Now, the problem with late-night IHOP runs is that they seem like such a good idea in the beginning, but by the end of it, I usually ends up feeling miserable, bloated and wanting a shower. Which is exactly what happened. But it was good while it lasted...
In any case, after my glorious hot shower, I watched a little Food Network (which is never a good idea after stuffing yourself full of delicious greasy breakfast foods...) vowing to begin the second phase of my personal healthy-eating movement, and went to bed sometime between 4 and 5 this morning, fully expecting to sleep way in. And then I inexplicably woke up at 10 in the morning, wide awake. Gah! Oh well. Better to not waste the day away, I suppose.
Well, I guess it's time for me to go eat something healthy for lunch. Or a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese. Whatevs. ...Tomorrow!
Last night I hung out at Jim's house in Karns with Elizabeth and April (Ben, as I suspected all along, decided to wuss out on me. Grr...). We had fun chatting over some ice-cold refreshments. And, of course, we blew up some fireworks in his backyard. I believe the highlights of that aspect of our evening were when 1) his insanely fearless dog Oscar (formerly Dante, formerly Tick-dog) decided to jump into some fireworks as it was shooting five-foot high flames. Luckily, he was not hurt; and 2) when April lit some fireworks, which then toppled over (or something? I don't really know what happened exactly) right before it set off and we were attacked by a billion dazzling balls of fire moving at lightning-fast speed. I believe I screamed like a little girl (which is okay since I am a girl and am, indeed, little). Luckily, none of us caught on fire. Ha ha.
Anyway, a little after 2 in the morning we decided to go to IHOP. Elizabeth, unfortunately, couldn't come because she had to work later that morning. (Ugh, people with jobs... How I long to be one of you!! Ha ha) Now, the problem with late-night IHOP runs is that they seem like such a good idea in the beginning, but by the end of it, I usually ends up feeling miserable, bloated and wanting a shower. Which is exactly what happened. But it was good while it lasted...
In any case, after my glorious hot shower, I watched a little Food Network (which is never a good idea after stuffing yourself full of delicious greasy breakfast foods...) vowing to begin the second phase of my personal healthy-eating movement, and went to bed sometime between 4 and 5 this morning, fully expecting to sleep way in. And then I inexplicably woke up at 10 in the morning, wide awake. Gah! Oh well. Better to not waste the day away, I suppose.
Well, I guess it's time for me to go eat something healthy for lunch. Or a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese. Whatevs. ...Tomorrow!
7.04.2005
It's like a disease...
Well well well... it seems the trend du jour is to post a Blog Quiz. I, of course, am always one to follow the popular crowd so here is my contribution:
A Merry 4th of July to all! Jim, Elizabeth and I (and Ben, if he doesn't wuss out...) are going to celebrate by blowing fireworks up tonight. Yay! America!
Your Political Profile |
Overall: 30% Conservative, 70% Liberal |
Social Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal |
Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal |
Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal |
Ethics: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal |
Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal |
A Merry 4th of July to all! Jim, Elizabeth and I (and Ben, if he doesn't wuss out...) are going to celebrate by blowing fireworks up tonight. Yay! America!
7.02.2005
Sense of rejection increasing...
Countdown to Tokyo: 16 days
I never did end up buying that fabulous black suit jacket from J. Crew. My bank account is happy but my wardrobe is depressed. I went back to the mall on Thursday with every intention to purchase the damned thing, but when I went to try it on again it -- for some reason -- didn't fit as well as it did the day before. Argh! This always happens when I am faced with making a big purchase (apparently a suit jacket on sale is a "big purchase" for me...). Although the very same jacket seemed so perfect in every way the day before, the moment I put it on and looked in the mirror, I started hearing voices (which sound remarkably like my parents...haha) telling me to stop spending money and the irrepresible Catholic guilt kicked in, and all of a sudden I started seeing all sorts of flaws with the piece of clothing. Mix that with the fact that I have the build of a twelve-year old boy. Needless to say, I just couldn't bring myself to hand my Visa card over to the sales girl. *Sigh* The search continues...
So I haven't heard back from the Knoxville Symphony... I think I should probably feel rejected or something. I'm ok with it, though. First, because if I truly were being rejected for the job, I think I would have received a phone call actually informing me of this fact (that would be the decent thing, don't you think?), and I haven't heard anything. Perhaps they are just taking longer than expected to deliberate. And second, while being in the position of Operations Director would have been fantastic for a year (maybe two), I would have eventually had to confront the fact that the KSO would have been non-too-pleased with me not staying in Knoxville for several years. One of the (undiscussed) stipulations about the job is that they need somebody who will be in Knoxville for quite a while and, let's face it, the probability of me staying here for too long is not very realistic. Not that I don't love this place and love the people I hang with here -- well, I would say some of the people, some of the time (depending on my hormonal levels on any given day...haha). There's only so much a struggling clarinetist can get out of any certain place before they need to move on, I think. Anyway, so I wouldn't be too upset if I didn't get the job. My bank account and my unhealthy relationship to Target and shopping in general would be very very distraught, however. Obviously, now I need to start worrying about finding a job, period.
I've been searching the job listings in the Knoxville News Sentinel and have found -- amidst many many listings for sales and retail positions, from which I need to stay clear away (probably for the sake of the business more so than mine... but that's another story) -- a few that I may actually be successful in. We shall see. Anyway, I have all the confidence in the world that things will fall into place as they should eventually. It always works out that way, doesn't it?
I never did end up buying that fabulous black suit jacket from J. Crew. My bank account is happy but my wardrobe is depressed. I went back to the mall on Thursday with every intention to purchase the damned thing, but when I went to try it on again it -- for some reason -- didn't fit as well as it did the day before. Argh! This always happens when I am faced with making a big purchase (apparently a suit jacket on sale is a "big purchase" for me...). Although the very same jacket seemed so perfect in every way the day before, the moment I put it on and looked in the mirror, I started hearing voices (which sound remarkably like my parents...haha) telling me to stop spending money and the irrepresible Catholic guilt kicked in, and all of a sudden I started seeing all sorts of flaws with the piece of clothing. Mix that with the fact that I have the build of a twelve-year old boy. Needless to say, I just couldn't bring myself to hand my Visa card over to the sales girl. *Sigh* The search continues...
So I haven't heard back from the Knoxville Symphony... I think I should probably feel rejected or something. I'm ok with it, though. First, because if I truly were being rejected for the job, I think I would have received a phone call actually informing me of this fact (that would be the decent thing, don't you think?), and I haven't heard anything. Perhaps they are just taking longer than expected to deliberate. And second, while being in the position of Operations Director would have been fantastic for a year (maybe two), I would have eventually had to confront the fact that the KSO would have been non-too-pleased with me not staying in Knoxville for several years. One of the (undiscussed) stipulations about the job is that they need somebody who will be in Knoxville for quite a while and, let's face it, the probability of me staying here for too long is not very realistic. Not that I don't love this place and love the people I hang with here -- well, I would say some of the people, some of the time (depending on my hormonal levels on any given day...haha). There's only so much a struggling clarinetist can get out of any certain place before they need to move on, I think. Anyway, so I wouldn't be too upset if I didn't get the job. My bank account and my unhealthy relationship to Target and shopping in general would be very very distraught, however. Obviously, now I need to start worrying about finding a job, period.
I've been searching the job listings in the Knoxville News Sentinel and have found -- amidst many many listings for sales and retail positions, from which I need to stay clear away (probably for the sake of the business more so than mine... but that's another story) -- a few that I may actually be successful in. We shall see. Anyway, I have all the confidence in the world that things will fall into place as they should eventually. It always works out that way, doesn't it?
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