Mobamarms

One of my New Year's resolutions is to have Michelle Obama arms (aka Mobamarms) by the end of this year. I've always considered my arms one of my worst features, so now I'm finally going to do something about it. For real this time! No more sets of 3 with pink, 2-pound weights almost every other night. I've moved on to the big-girl machines at the gym. Last night was my third night at the gym this week! That may not be shocking to anyone else, but it's a personal record for me.

Now if only I could get Mobama to be my personal trainer....

Some Adult Truths From a Coworker

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. I can't really relate to this personally since it never happens to me, but I get the idea.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

There is great need for a sarcasm font.

Was learning cursive really necessary? Learning cursive just ruined my print.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

Bad decisions make good stories.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. No one's gonna make me throw away my Mary Poppins VHS!

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my 10-page technical report that I swear I didn't make any changes to.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

It's hard to decipher the fine line between boredom and hunger.

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word someone said? Mostly I don't even bother with the What; I just go right to the nod. Whoops!

No French Fry Tips!

Talking to a friend recently, I suddenly remembered a rather traumatic job I had for a few months of freshman year. Feeling both benevolent and desperate for a job at the time, I had signed up to be a "personal aide" for a disabled student living a few floors down. By disabled I mean quadriplegic. My duties: escorting her to/from class, helping with notes/homework, feeding her lunch, and *ahem* assorted hygiene stuff. Don't even ask.

Another thing is that "Mary" couldn't speak, so she used a computer-controlled voice synthesizer thing. Each conversation took an eternity! "Hey, Mary! How's it going?" "Hi.....Chris..tine. I'm.....do...ing..fine. C..an....you..(two minutes pass)..please....ti..e...my....hair?" (She'd ask me to do really random things for her all time - tie her hair, rub lotion into her hands, look for her favorite sweater in the closet, etc.) It was hard to not think of Stephen Hawking at times like this.

The only really scary part was lunchtime. Mary had an undying love for the french fries at Sweetheart Cafe, and she asked for them almost every time. The thing with these french fries, though, is that they're cut pointy at both ends, which means they also get extra crispy in the fryer. Not a good thing to swallow when your throat's not working properly. I literally had to cut the ends off of every...single....fry. Then I had to cut the blunted fries into smaller pieces before finally feeding them to her. I don't know if you've ever heard a quadriplegic person swallow, but it sounds awful. I freaked out the first time thinking I made her choke. Oh, how could I almost forget about the juice? That made me almost pass out! I also used to worry about what would happen if she got hugely overweight eating french fries and being in her chair all the time.

I still can't believe I actually had this job, except that I remember how exhausted I'd feel after a shift. Some of the (larger, stronger) aides actually lifted her out of the chair for restroom breaks and showers - thank God I'm too small for that! I can't imagine having no privacy at all and being forced to rely on complete strangers for even the most basic things. I wonder how Mary's doing now. The last time I saw her was three years ago on campus from too far away to say hello.

Names

Ann and I can kill a few hours just talking about names - our secret future baby names, the names we'd rather have instead of Ann and Christine, or our steadfast belief in how having certain names can create certain personalities. Once we wandered around Claremont for hours just talking about names and picking out which houses were the nicest. Ann likes it when someone has a first name-y last name, like John Oliver. I like names that translate easily into nicknames, like Olivia. You can't really get any good nicknames out of Christine. 'Chrissy' is kind of disgusting. My friend Joanna calls me 'Christiney weenie" sometimes, but I like her enough to let it slide (as I cringe to myself). Oh well.

Very Hungry Caterpillar

I am afraid that today's children will grow up not knowing what the Very Hungry Caterpillar is. I once asked an eight year old what his favorite Disney movie is, and he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about! So that made me pretty sad. What else doesn't he know about? The Magic School Bus? Captain Planet? Reading Rainbow?

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, 1952

Military Alphabet

Alpha Bravo Charlie Delta Echo Foxtrot Golf Hotel India Juliet Kilo Lima Mike November Oscar Papa Quebec Romeo Sierra Tango Uniform Victor Whiskey X-ray Yankee Zulu

How long will it take you to memorize this?

"Hola, Guapa!"

         
     Have you been feeling a bit down, anyone? Could you use some cheering up? Then this, my friend, is for you. Made you smile, right?

     His name is Farith, and I am in love with his dimples and tiny sharp baby teeth. He is surprisingly shy for a kid whose adorableness must attract crowds wherever he goes. He only peeked out from behind the car door until his dad whispered something in his ear, at which point Farith finally flashed a shy smile and said, "Hola, Guapa!" in a piping little voice. I swooned on the spot.

The Benjamin Franklin of Monogamy

Reminiscing in the drizzle of Portland, I notice the ring that's landed on your finger, a massive
insect of glitter, a chandelier shining at the end

of a long tunnel. Thirteen years ago, you hid the hurt
in your voice under a blanket and said there's two kinds
of women—those you write poems about

and those you don't. It's true. I never brought you
a bouquet of sonnets, or served you haiku in bed.
My idea of courtship was tapping Jane's Addiction

lyrics in Morse code on your window at three A.M.,
whiskey doing push-ups on my breath. But I worked
within the confines of my character, cast

as the bad boy in your life, the Magellan
of your dark side. We don't have a past so much
as a bunch of electricity and liquor, power

never put to good use. What we had together
makes it sound like a virus, as if we caught
one another like colds, and desire was merely

a symptom that could be treated with soup
and lots of sex. Gliding beside you now,
I feel like the Benjamin Franklin of monogamy,

as if I invented it, but I'm still not immune
to your waterfall scent, still haven't developed
antibodies for your smile. I don't know how long

regret existed before humans stuck a word on it.
I don't know how many paper towels it would take
to wipe up the Pacific Ocean, or why the light

of a candle being blown out travels faster
than the luminescence of one that's just been lit,
but I do know that all our huffing and puffing

into each other's ears—as if the brain was a trick
birthday candle—didn't make the silence
any easier to navigate. I'm sorry all the kisses

I scrawled on your neck were written
in disappearing ink. Sometimes I thought of you
so hard one of your legs would pop out

of my ear hole, and when I was sleeping, you'd press
your face against the porthole of my submarine.
I'm sorry this poem has taken thirteen years

to reach you. I wish that just once, instead of skidding
off the shoulder blade's precipice and joyriding
over flesh, we'd put our hands away like chocolate

to be saved for later, and deciphered the calligraphy
of each other's eyelashes, translated a paragraph
from the volumes of what couldn't be said.

Jeffrey McDaniel

Tetris

There is a Tetris mystery I often wonder about. What would happen if someone managed to stack up a perfectly solid block of rows, no holes or pieces sticking out above the top? Tetris can't just wipe out four rows and leave half a screen of block behind, can it?

My theory/fantasy: The entire screen will be emptied, and the message, "YOU HAVE DEFEATED TETRIS!!" will begin flashing. And there will definitely be super extra bonus points.

Or maybe the stupid long piece never shows up when you need it most just so that this can never happen. Evil Tetris!

Let me know if you ever find out.

"Ongstray"

I found this written on a post-it in small letters and stuck on the House Blend dispenser. Someone in the office was trying to be cute, and I have to admit that it won me over. How long has it been since I've seen Pig Latin?


They say Starbucks burns its beans, but I don't mind. I love the cigarette-y taste that's left after every swallow.