She Can't See Without Her Glasses

Runnin' on Empty

2010-04-04T13:48:00.003-04:00

When I turned 16, all of the elder, sagacious members of my family passed on the same nugget of wisdom to me: don't run out of gas. This advice was presented as more of a threat than a recommendation. As a result, I never let my gas gauge fall below the halfway mark. But as I've grown older, I have felt myself become more lax, pushing the gauge further and further beyond the halfway mark and closer and closer to the red zone, or as I like to refer to it, the danger zone.

This past summer I worked in Indianapolis and carpooled with a friend periodically throughout the week. Often, the gas alarm would sound and I would inform him that it was imperative that we pull over, lest we end up stranded in Martinsville and face a sort of "Deliverance" fate. But my friend remained cool as a cucumber, encouraging me to keep driving, that we had another good 30 miles before we really needed to get gas. The first couple times this occurred I buckled from the crippling anxiety and guilt I felt as I pushed the car to the limit. But then, I surrendered. I started listening to Jim, and had some faith in my car. More and more, I became comfortable cruisin' in the danger zone.

This week, I allowed myself to drive in the danger zone for about 2 days. On the third day, my grandpa must have been looking down from heaven, displeased with what he saw on my dashboard gauges. I started my car, with the intention of driving to the gas station less than 100 yards from my house. She started up nicely, and I tapped the gas pedal to get 'er movin'. I made it to the stop sign at the end of my road, waited for traffic to pass, and then took a louie out onto the street. The second I turned the wheel my transformed into a carnival game. Bells started chiming, lights started flashing, the whole car froze up. At that point, I put my rudimentary physics knowledge to work and calculated that I could coast right on up to the pump on the momentum I gained from the last burst of gas. We made it right to the entrance. I could see victory. I could smell it in the form of petrol fumes. As I took the last turn into the gas station landing, an nonfactored exponent popped in to the equation. The entryway had a slight incline to it, quashing my hopes of a foreseeably full gas tank.

There I sat, resting on the BP inclination, hazard lights flashing. I got out of the car, passing a cab driver lounging on the hood of his car. "You just leaving your car there?"
"Yeeep. I just ran out of gas." A stare-off proceeded, as I waited for him to offer his assistance and he waited for me to walk back and finish pulling my car in to the gas station. I broke first, and walked into the attached convenient store, straight to the aisle hosting the embarassing, abasing 2 gallon gas tanks. I picked up an 8 dollar tub, carried it to the counter, and started playing out the next 10-15 minutes of my life. I would buy this tank, walk out 10 feet to the gas pump, fill it up, take 30 paces north over to my car, fill up the car with 2 gallons of gas, get back in my car, start it up, drive it 20 feet up to the pump and finish filling the tank. As I considered this sequence of events, I began to think that the better, more practical option for me was to abandon my car completely and buy a new one. It was out of gas anyway. What good was it to me now, outside of serving as a platter to serve up a hearty dish of humiliation? Just as I began to make a run for it, a man walked in, saw me with a gas tank and through his astute perception, noticed I was quite the aloof and unlucky young woman. The kind of young woman whose car would fail her so close to achieving victory. To be polite, he asked me, "Is that car out there yours?" With my head down, I admitted my failure and he offered to help me get back in the game.

Girling Out

2010-02-11T16:29:00.002-05:00

The first time I listened to this song, I mean really listened, I balled my eyes out. This song has been played on quite a few occasions in my life. When I've gotten giddy about a relationship, when I've gotten to that place where I've let go of myself and fallen in love, and when I'm nothing but hopeful that a love, or some love, will return. Never have I felt so in tune with the emotions associated with every element of a song as I have with this one. The music, the lyrics, the tone, the personal sentiment it extracts. I've proclaimed to many friends that this is the song I will dance to at my wedding, as I usher in a future colored with unremitting love. Get ready to girl out, or guy out. Happy early Valentine's Day to all you lovers and fellow hopeless romantics!

(Sorry this isn't the most visually stimulating video in the world, but I almost prefer that it's just the musicians. Understatement is the name of the game.)

Also, for those of you who get into lyrics, here they are. They're beautiful.

Why would I stop loving you
a hundred years from now?
It's only time.
It's only time.

What could stop this beating heart
once it's made a vow?
It's only time.
It's only time.

If rain won't change your mind,
let it fall.
The rain won't change my heart
at all.

Lock this chain
around my hand,
throw away the key.
It's only time.
It's only time.

Years falling
like grains of sand
mean nothing to me.
It's only time.
It's only time.

If snow won't change your mind
let it fall.
The snow won't change my heart,
not at all.

(I'll walk your lands)
I'll walk your lands
(And swim your sea)
And swim your sea

Marry me.
Marry me.

(Then in your hands)
Then in your hands
(I will be free)
I will be free

Marry me.
Marry me.

Why would I stop loving you
a hundred years from now?

Celebrity Dopplegangers

2010-02-09T10:02:00.023-05:00

We are just starting to come down from Doppleganger Week. As more and more individuals started changing their facebook profile pictures to represent their "dopplegangers," I realized how complimentary people were to themselves. I posted a picture of Miss Geist, the scattered and ratty English teacher from the movie "Clueless", as my doppleganger. I guess I've always been a bit of a realist. After posting this picture, I realized that there were probably a few better choices I could've made concerning who should represent me as my doppleganger. So, I went to one of those websites where you upload a picture of yourself and they tell you who you look like. Apparently, since I wear glasses, I only look like chubby men. Therefore, I was forced to come up with my look-a-likes without the aid of technology. Here are some pictures of celebrities that I feel I have some resemblance to.

DOPPLEGANGERS OF MAGGIE PAST

(From Left: Wednesday Addams, the twin flowergirls in Michael Corleone's wedding from "The Godfather", Enid from "Ghost World")

DOPPLEGANGERS OF MAGGIE FUTURE

(From Left: Miss Geist from "Clueless", Sarah Palin)

(MORE) REALISTIC DOPPLEGANGERS

(From Left: Andrea Rosen, Tina Fey, Janeane Garofolo)

COMPLIMENTARY DOPPLEGANGERS

(From Left: Colleen Corby, Zooey Deschanel, Esther Ofarim)

What is Maggie?

2010-02-08T12:47:00.002-05:00

To all of my fellow Maggie's that helped to contribute to such positive urban dictionary definitions, thank you. It's wonderful to know that we Maggie's are perceived by others as pretty great gals. Of course, there is always that sexual innuendo outlier that comes with any urban dictionary definition, but for the most part, I have to say I am content with the entries for "Maggie." We come across as really fun people that have great hair. For those minority of Maggie's that have given us all a bad name, shame on you. You should know better. Also, that "Avatar"-loving Maggie. Come oooonnnn.

MAGGIE:

1) A girl who doesn't trust or fall in love easily. (CAUTION: if you are lucky enough to have her fall for you, she has a soft heart that is easily hurt. Be good to her.) She can be confusing, but only needs you to tell her and things will clear up. She can be beautiful inside and out. Her spirit draws you to her like a magnet. Once you know her, everyday is new. You can never be sure that you know everything about her.

2) An amazing person. She can always make you smile and laugh, and is unpredictable. Boy-crazy, fun, one of the best friends you'll ever have. Has beautiful hair.

3) n. Nickname for Margaret.

4) n. Commonly used dog's name. If your name is Maggie, chances are every person that ever meets you who happens to have a dog named Maggie (Which will be at least 25% of the people you meet in your life) will immediately reply with, "Oh. My dog's name is Maggie! How cute!" Because they think you A) Care and B) Also think this is "cute".

5) ohhhhh my goodness maggie the best at being her self and the nicest girl with the greatest personality and it could be a world record how beautiful she is but shes a tough one to get trust me i know from experience but ill keep trying the thing is i can never tell if shes interested or not she has a really good poker face.

6) A young woman who after seeing Avatar in 3D became conflicted between her alliances with Earth or Pandora. While thinking of ways to travel to space to join "her" native people, she has become infatuated with creating a new graphic sex scene for the movie Avatar. Unfortunately for men, Maggie is an extremely attractive girl, but refuses to give it up in hopes that her pony tail will grow alien DNA so she can pro-create on Pandora. Maggie currently lives in her uncles basement with her two cats while she finalizes plans for the space-craft she has named "Big Tony."

7) to squeeze, or firmly grab another person's buttox region casually, all while pretending it wasn't you.

8) A total spaz that likes to have fun. Often likes to talk about vaginas.

9) Short / Ghetto for a Magnum (the pistol).

10) maggie meaning the most amazing thing or person in the world. It can also mean a big pile of weed, or cocaine. OOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRR it can be a big giant lollypop that you like a lot and you keep licking untill your tounge falls off.

11) the worst beast of all, suffers from bfb disease further known as a best friend beater. she will stop at nothing and enjoys the crys of her surrounding victims. Her motives are biting, hiting, punching, screaming, and shoving. BEWARE! of the maggie

12) The biggest bitch in the world. Totally conceited. Used as an insult.

(note: This is not an exhaustive list of urban dictionary entries for "Maggie." There were some slutty ones that I thought were in poor taste for a wholesome Maggie to post. To see all entries, go here)

Google Mix Up

2009-10-30T10:25:00.002-04:00

I google imaged "Liz Lemon" so that I could get a better understanding of her style in order that I might perfect my look for a Halloween costume. I haven't had a ton of time to prepare for a Halloween costume idea, so I decided to just go with something that would be easy for me. Since I already look a bit like Tina Fey and I already live a lifestyle similar to Liz Lemon, I figured I would just fall into the part on October 31. When i googled "Liz Lemon" a little surprise popped up. Apparently there is a woman named "Liz Lemon Swindle" that does those weird Mormon paintings. And, there's an entire website called "LDS-Art" that is designated to the sale and promotion of paintings in the genre of "Mormonism." Pre-tty interesting.

Liz Lemon Swindle

Makeover

2009-10-08T20:15:00.004-04:00

Apparently this is the season to reinvent yourself, fashionistically speaking. People all around me are popping up with "new looks" and the notion of updating my wardrobe is rather tempting. And, judging by the people in my life, my "new look" has been a long desired achievement. Every time my dad and I watch one of those makeover tv shows, he never fails to drop the comment, "you know, you'd be good on one of these shows." This usually segways into a debate about how I am already a good dresser so I don't need to go on "one of those shows" because those shows are for bad dressers. But, I think I get it. It's time for something fresh like a Young MC song.

My direction is governed by the fact that my life as a student is about to cease (at least for a couple years) and I am going to be a grown up halfling. So, I'm moving away from the kitsch and the polyester that used to dominate my wardrobe and am heading for a more classy, toned down kitsch reminiscent of a woman in the 1950's that is trying to be a career woman and fighting for a position among the old boys' club. My model style has been inspired by the fashion of a one Zooey Deschanel. Her style is, to me, the embodiment of classy, toned down kitsch. I also considered growing my hair long and getting rid of the glasses so that I could look like her fraternal twin...me obviously being the less fortunate in physical characteristics.

This transition hasn't been easy. I have definitely relapsed on several purchasing occasions. The latest temptation came while I was looking for a studious-looking sweater vest. I was just starting to acclimate myself to the gray and muted color scheme when, BAM, this beauty popped up. I'm so tempted to get it, but I know it would go against everything I'm trying to make of myself. All of the wonderful things I'm trying to achieve.

Whether or not to buy this sweater vest will be the dilemma of the weekend. If J.Crew or Anthropologie don't bring something to the table soon, I will be forced to reassess my new look and perhaps make the new look the old look which in return would result in my dad calling TLC and putting me on "What Not to Wear" for my own good. Heaven help us all...but mostly me and my wardrobe prospects.

My Current Motivational Jam

2009-10-04T14:50:00.003-04:00

When I went up to Ft. Wayne last weekend, we sang "Just a Closer Walk with Thee" at church. I love this hymn. When I got back home I wanted to listen to it again, so I googled the song and up popped this video clip of Mahalia Jackson singing the hymn. I found it to be overwhelming. Jackson becomes so engrossed with the music and the message she is singing that she isn't even cognizant of her surroundings (note how she doesn't even make a move when her hair falls into her face. She never goes to fix it.). Nothing seems to distract her. And the thing is, I don't feel like she was singing the song to entertain. She appears to be motivated by another force outside of the pleasing the audience or glorifying herself. Her exit even seems to suggest that she wasn't making the performance about her. She wanted to leave the audience with whatever emotions or spiritual encouragement they were experiencing.

On another note, how amazing are the pianist and the organist accompanying Jackson?

What I'm Doing Now

2009-09-29T20:29:00.003-04:00

I had every intention of posting two more blogs about what I did over my summer vacation, but my current state in life seems to be prohibiting me from finding any time to write these last installments. So, instead, I'm just going to jump ahead and discuss some things that are more current and are keeping me from posting more often. I mean, it's fall. Summer's over.

I've been back to school and occasionally jabbing more so than hitting the books. This is it. My last year of law school. I'm a bit disappointed by the fact I overuse "unbelievable" in colloquial speech because it is the only word that I can think of to even come close to the astonishment I'm feeling at the knowledge that I will be walking away with a J.D. in less than 8 months. Have you seen those things? The diplomas are huge! I don't know what I'm going to do with it when I get it. I'm not going to have room for that thing. Quite the ego trip. I'm also a bit frustrated since it took me until my third year to actually start getting the hang of this whole "law thing." But at least I got it.

From the beginning I knew that I wasn't given (literally, given...2 days before classes were to start) the opportunity to go to law school just for kicks. I was given the opportunity for a reason. It has been more than hard over the past two years to keep this in mind and truly believe that I had been placed in this environment and career for a reason. I can't even start to discuss all of the times I wanted to quit or doubted myself or felt out of place. Numerous times I wanted to run far away from Bloomington to escape everything in life. Social struggles, educational struggles, depression episode struggles all served as frequent and familiar blockades, but I sucked it up. I'm not much for talking well about myself, but I have to say that right now I couldn't be more proud of myself. I went for it, stuck it out, and I can walk away with the knowledge that I have successfully completed something that about 10% (or less) of the population accomplishes.

This semester has already shown to be quite rigorous. I am enrolled in 15 credit hours, working 12 hours a week at the Monroe County Public Defender's office, and working as a research assistant in the area of education law for a professor. Even though it's busy, I'm having a blast. I have been blessed with a wonderful network of friends at law school to make stupid law jokes with, to crack down and discuss more intellectual topics, to play board games with, to goof around in the halls with, to dance like there's no tomorrow with, to make absurd videos with, to be in a super synth band with, to just be great friends with. I've always struggled to find people that I can relate to, that have the patience to deal with me, and that I feel truly understand me; I will always be grateful to law school for introducing such awesome people into my life that I understand and that understand me.

In a few weeks I will be on tour, traveling from Louisville to DC, attending legal conferences in hopes of finding a job where I can use my knowledge to benefit and contribute to the lives of others. I've never been one to care much about myself. Some people say I care too much? (that's a joke) But honestly, I don't really care about my own well-being. I am more concerned with ensuring that everyone else around me is okay than spending time taking care of myself. Luckily, I've chosen, and been given, a career path that allows me to spend oodles of hours working on tasks that are important to the lives of others. I’ve been offered an interview with the Cook County (Chicago) Office of the Public Guardian while I will be attending Equal Justice Works Conference this month, for which I am very excited and a bit nervous. The position I will be interviewing for is that of an ad litem attorney, meaning I would be legally acting in the best interest for children in any proceedings they might have to face. This is something that I would love to do. In working at the Public Defender’s office I’ve gotten the chance to go over to court for juvenile and CINS (Children In Need of Services) cases, and have felt a desire to help in this area. A lot of kids are lost, and a lot have just been handed a bunch of crap. Most likely, the kids that end up in court as a juvenile face a future in “the system.” If I have an opportunity to help these kids break out of the system and see what they’re capable of, I definitely want to take it. I still have a desire to teach, as I truly feel that is my ultimate passion, but I don’t see any harm in taking some time to dedicate myself to youth in a different capacity.

Extracurricularly I have taken on the role of “Sunday School Teacher.” I’ve always been very resistant to becoming involved in church groups and organizations because of my prior experiences in church. But this summer, while I was struggling with a lot of issues that caused a lot of confusion and frustration in my spiritual life, I was sitting in church when the youth director got up and made a plea for individuals to volunteer to work with kids on Sunday mornings. As I was sitting there, an epiphanic voice popped inside my head. The voice seemed to have an outline of two points in its lesson; similar to my dad’s three points he always has over the pulpit and in his everyday conversations, but one less. First, it asked, “You have a passion for teaching, right? So, why can’t you spend some time teaching these kids about Christ?” Conviction, initiated. Second, it asked, “How much time do you spend advancing your own agenda? Worrying about your own life?...Don’t you think it might be a good idea to break out of that bubble and actually utilize that passion you have to invest in the lives of others?” I started to cry. I cry a lot these days. The youth director asked for volunteers to fill out a slip included in the program, but since I came in late I didn’t get one. I started to settle back into my complacency, thinking, “Well, I can’t submit my name because I don’t have any way to do so. I’ll just do it later.” But I couldn’t sit there with any peace of mind. I turned around and asked the woman behind me for her program. I filled out the form and turned it in. I’m helping out on Sunday mornings with first through third grade girls, and I couldn’t be more excited.

I’m looking around at different places to move and find employment once I graduate. On my list are Chicago (because it’s close to my nephew); Philadelphia; NYC; DC; and oddly enough, Minneapolis. I don’t know what happened, but I became really interested in Minneapolis, and really want to live there after I finish up school. Who knows where I’m supposed to be, but if it’s Minneapolis, I wouldn’t be offended.

Overall, I am very excited about this time of my life. I’m anxious to get up and move on to the next task in life. I don’t know where I’ll where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing, but I know that everything will be as it is supposed to be. I’m not worried because I know that the authority guiding me has got it all figured out. Thank goodness someone has what’s best for my life figured out, because heaven knows I’m clueless.

Matt Wallace

2009-09-07T12:56:00.003-04:00

My friend, Matt Wallace, is this amazing character. Unlike any person that I've ever met. That's one great thing about law school. I've met some of the most interesting and quirky people that would only show up at a place like law school. It was Matt's birthday this past weekend, and my friend Pete decided that we should make a birthday video card dedicated to Matt. This idea goes back a couple of weeks when Pete decided to megamix Matt, and we soon realized that Matt was the perfect megamix archetype. It would be hard to ever megamix anyone else outside of Matt, so the only other possibility in making a video was to act as though we were Matt. So that's just what we did. The first video below is the original Matt Wallace megamix. The second is our birthday dedication to Matt Wallace. If you don't know Matt Wallace, the second video won't be all that funny to you because everything that we do is something that Matt Wallace is well known for. So yeah, just humor me.

What Does it Mean to be Matt Wallace? from Pete Giordano on Vimeo.

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation, Part 2: Matrimonial Marathon

2009-09-06T21:31:00.003-04:00

I've heard that with the onset of an economic recession comes an influx in the average number of weddings. My friends must have also heard this statistics, as the number of weddings that I was invited to this summer threatened to reach double digits. It seemed as though every weekend of the summer I was on my way to some wedding-oriented event. I baked cakes for 3 different weddings; a challenge that I enjoyed but am in no particular rush to take on any time soon. Luckily, I didn't have to take this task on alone, as my friend Jennie contributed much of her time and skills, not to mention coming in at crunch time with a cake for a wedding I was unable to attend.

I had many wedding responsibilities, including cake baker, DJ, emcee, and bridesmaid. While I was more than honored to be a bridesmaid in my best friend's wedding, there was one position I held that elated my entire being and fulfilled a life-long aspiration: I was the flower girl. This might not seem like a such a great feat or a momentous accomplishment to you, but for me, this was something I had wanted for as long as I can remember.

When I was young (I feel as though I can say "young" instead of "younger" now because I have pinpointed 5 gray hairs on my head), I wasn't the cutest of kids. I was pudgy. Very pudgy. I had bad hair. I was often disoriented. Many people told me I looked like Wednesday Adams. (I remember on one occassion as I got older, I was walking through church and a lady stopped and said, "I'm so glad you're losing that baby fat. I was really worried about you and your looks there for awhile." No joke.) On top of struggling in the adorable department, I was incredibly shy and introverted. I didn't have friends, mostly because I figured I didn't need them. I was a loner. And a homely one at that. To make matters worse, I had a younger cousin whose cuteness abundantly overflowed. She was, and still is, lovely. Blonde hair, skinny and petite, sharp dresser, graceful, bubbly personality. Young and old knew Cassie. Young and old loved Cassie. She had friends. She got the "Aww" from adults.

My brothers, cousins and I grew up as P.K.'s (pastor's kids...and in our case, grandkids as well) in a rather large church community. Lots of church families meant lots of church kids getting married, which led to a high demand for cute little girls to take on the duties of flower girl. For some reason, I always got passed up for this position by my cousin. It felt as though I had been passed up to take over the family business by my younger, more adorable cousin because I wasn't "flower girl material." I was a complete failure, and perhaps even a bit of a disgrace to the family.

One evening, my mom had a woman over from church to discuss this woman's wedding. The two sat at a table in the living room, flipping through magazines, discussing florists and caterers, and, in my mom's typical fashion, exploring the more practical options. This was my chance. This bride had no where to hide. She was trapped in my house. She had to be courteous. So, over I waddled, with an oreo in hand, and approached the young woman. "So, do you have a flower girl yet?" I asked. "Umm..." she responded, a little flustered. Her reaction was such that I could tell she had not chosen a flower girl yet, but she knew that if I were her flower girl, her wedding ceremony would be ruined as I would not be able to extract the desired "aww's" from the attendees and there would be no "wasn't that flower girl just darling!" talk at the reception, but rather the eyes of her guests would burn like fire and they'd turn to salt if I were to take that turn to head down the aisle. "Maggie, leave this poor woman alone," my mom said as she rescued the bride from complete wedding devastation. A sigh of relief came from the other side of the table.

"But mom, I just want to be a flower girl. I've never gotten to be a flower girl, and if this woman doesn't have one, well, I might as well do it."

In an act of compromisable desperation, my mom replied, "How about you think of someone that you know who you would like to be the flower girl for, call them up, and ask them if you can be their flower girl at their wedding."

"Fine," I said. I marched over to my mom's desk in the kitchen and pulled out her address book. I started flipping through the pages when I stopped in the "C's." CONNER. That was it. Of course. Why was I wasting time on this nobody bride in my living room when there was Amy Conner who was in potential need of a flower girl? Amy Conner was it. Never before has the world seen anyone as glowing, joyous, captivating as Amy Conner. Amy has always been one of those people that's larger than life. To be her flower girl would put all other flower girlships to shame. I walked back into the living room, tapped my mom on the shoulder, and cooly asked for the phone. My mom was a little taken aback, but turned over the portable phone. I hurriedly dialed the phone number for the Conner household. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"
"Hi, may I speak to Amy Conner please?"
Amy picks up the phone.
"Hello??"
"Hi Amy, this is Maggie Paino. I was wondering if you have a flower girl for when you get married."
"Well, no, I don't."
"Could I be your flower girl?"
"Sure thing, Maggie."
"Okay, thank you."

I hung up, and walked the phone back into the living room. "Well, it looks like I can't be your flower girl anyway because I'm going to be Amy Conner's flower girl," I informed the out of luck bride.

As I mentioned, Amy has always been larger than life. This trait may have been why I, at the age of 6, overlooked the fact that Amy was around 14 years old when I put in the request to be her flower girl. I patiently waited, year after year, hoping. Seventeen years later, I received a phone call. "Maggie, I'm getting hitched. You still down to be my flower girl?" "Absolutely," I responded.

The day of the wedding, I shared my flower girl position with Amy's adorable goddaughter. We stood outside in the hallway with our baskets of flower petals. I reached into mine, allowing myself to fully capture the moment by immersing my hand amongst the soft petals when a little, scolding voice coming from my co-flower girl pulled me back into reality, saying "It's not time to touch the petals yet! You have to wait until we get out there!" "Uh, duh, I know that!" I responded. As we walked out into the sanctuary and took the turn to head down the aisle, I froze. This was it. My one chance at being a flower girl. I couldn't mess up now. I looked down at my counterpart, and she wasn't moving. I bent down and whispered, "It's our turn, are you ready?" She sort of shook her head no. We took the first step together, me showing her how to toss the flowers down the aisle. When we got down to the front, the groom looked at us and simply said, "Awesome."

Amy's wedding was truly the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended. I don't cry at weddings, but for some reason I couldn't help myself at Amy and Jonathon's. There was such a sweet spirit present at the wedding, and every attendee could sense that God was a part of the couple's relationship. On a more selfish note, I was blown away at how gracious both Amy and Jonathon were willing to allow me to barge in as a 20-something ugly duckling wanting to prove that I was flower girl material when they had a cute and adorable girl easily accessible. I'm so blessed to have people like Amy and Jonathon in my life!

On a closing note, I looked at the flower petal baskets for both me and my co-flower girl after the wedding and I definitely utilized my petals more efficiently than she did. Let's just say that if I wouldn't have been a flower girl, Amy would've had zero petals ushering her brideship down the aisle.

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation, Part 1: Going to Graceland

2009-08-30T19:34:00.006-04:00

Growing up, I never really liked Elvis Presley. I didn't get what the big deal was. Both of my parents overplayed the oldies radio station in Ft. Wayne while we rode in the car, which overplayed Elvis. By the time I reached high school I vowed that if an Elvis song came on the radio the channel would instantly be changed. There would be no Elvis in my life. No hunka hunka, no pelvic twists, no nothin'. But something shifted in me this summer. I had only applied for one job position with the legal department at the Indiana Department of Education. It was the end of May and finals had ended about a month ago. I still hadn't heard from the IDOE. I felt a bit lost. As much as I had psyched myself into not working for the summer, I knew that all of the feelings of confusion and displacement I had been feeling for the past two years while in law school would only intensify if I didn't work. I need purpose. I wasn't getting that from law school. I felt like I had made a mistake; I had missed what God wanted me to do. I needed to take a pilgrimage. I needed to be inspired. I needed to be reminded of who I was and am, and where my passions and desires lie. And something inside of me wouldn't let go of the conclusion that I needed to go to Graceland to figure it out.

While waiting out a magnificent summer storm in the School of Education's library, I struck up a gchat conversation with my best friend, Stacie. We were both bored. She was planning a wedding and her future in Guam with her new husband. I was planning my first day of work at a "grown up job" (as I got the position at the IDOE...this is a whole nother blog post) and my glum future of more "grown up jobs" as a new lawyer.

"We should go to Graceland," I said to her.
"That sounds fun. We'll have to look at our schedules and figure something out."
"What are you doing this weekend."
"Well, nothing actually."
"Then let's go."
"Okay."

Five hours later, Stacie was in Bloomington and we were packed and giddy as ever to get to Memphis. Every hour, on the hour, we played Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas" to keep in high spirits. There was definitely some Marc Cohn thrown into the ipod playlist, along with Johnny Cash, Paul Simon and gospel music. Stacie and I talked and laughed and thought. Just being with my best friend reminded me of who I was. The events and circumstances of my life over the past two years apparently created a murky obstruction between me and me, making me insecure of myself and my abilities, and forgetting how to enjoy just being me, without the worry of my status academically, occupationally, or relationally.

The trip in general seemed to be driven by fate, but one of the most memorable experiences of the trip, outside of Graceland, was orchestrated by a higher power than coincidence. On our first gas stop, we pulled off of the ramp and into a BP surrounded by backwoods. As we pulled in, I noticed the guy (I would say gentleman, but something tells me that he would've been offended by such a polite address) at the pump kiosk next to us as he raised his eyebrows at Stacie and me, and raised my nausea and gag reflux. "Here we go," I thought to myself. We got out of the car to stretch and fill the tank when we were startled by the staccato honk of a car horn. I thought it was my car, as odd as that sounds, because there has been some sort of fuse short that causes my car alarm to randomly go off. At the sound of the horn, I involuntarily moved for my keys and the automatic lock button, when I was surprised to find that the honking had stopped, and a woman sitting in the driver's seat of the car while the aformentioned guy pumped gasoline into her minivan, rested a cigarette between her fingers and dangled it out the window in a way that made me nervous we might all blow up if she flipped the ash while she exhaled, looked at me and in a conciliating manner said, "Woap. Just my titties." I looked at Stacie. Before we could respond, the eyebrow-raising, gas pumping guy interjected his opinion into the matter. "Thank God for Boobies!" to which the double-D horn honking boob woman interjected a little anectdotal nugget of wisdom to all of us at BP. "They either catch food or catch the horn." I had nothing. Sometimes, I can be witty, but this situation was beyond me. All I knew to do was laugh, and that's just what I did. I laughed to the point that I had to dash to the bathroom. When I came back out to the car, Stacie was finishing up at the pump and we were rearranging our stuff in the car as we prepared to switch drivers, when, from around the corner (the same corner where all of the action took place with the horn honking knockers) a teenage girl appeared holding a pink, helium-inflated balloon on a ribbon. I like to think of her as an angel. "Do you want this balloon?" she asked of us. We didn't really know what to say. We didn't need the balloon, but it was just such a sweet, albeit odd, gesture. "You don't want it?" Stacie responded in that way that Stacie does, which is a combination of shock that you would want to give away something cool like a balloon, and shock that borders disgust that you're actually offering something as ridiculous as a balloon to strangers. "We don't have room for it." "Um, sure, okay," we said. We were a bit perplexed at how they didn't have the room for the balloon, seeing as there were three of them in a minivan with no luggage, but we were happy to skootch up our seats and sacrifice what little leg room we had in the two-door VW Beetle to make room for the balloon. After the perplexity wore off, we looked at the balloon and noticed a graphic on it. "Lambert's Cafe, Home of Throwed Rolls." A few miles later, we saw a billboard also advertising Lambert's throwed rolls. This was not just coincidence. This was a sign. We decided that on the way back to Indiana, regardless of how far out of the way it might be, we were going to stop at Lambert's Cafe. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Cracker Barrell, on crack. And, it became the home to one of the greatest memories I have in my friendship with Stacie. While sitting waiting for our absurdly large entrees to arrive, Stacie and I decided to record ourselves requesting rolls and instead of catching the roll, we would be caught off guard by the throwed roll and get hit in the head by it, maybe even knocking my glasses off of my face. I've never thought anything was as funny as this. We kept it up the entire drive home, recording ourselves getting hit with a roll while driving the car, while pumping gas, and even while reading a book in bed. (see videos below)

There were other memorable moments, such as witnessing roadkill armadillo for the first time, driving past the pyramid in Memphis and being thoroughly creeped out by the weird statue of Rameses at the entrance to the pyramid and being even more creeped out by a black cat darting out in front of our car at exactly midnight, getting spray-on Elvis tatoos, being offended when our waiter said he could tell we weren't locals (probably because of our Elvis tatoos), witnessing the Peabody Ducks march to the fountain, counting well over 75 people wearing plaid shorts while at a baseball game, the music on Beale Street, A.Schwab's, and Stacie reading off street signs and telling me that we were coming up on "Schmain St.", which turned out to be "S. Main St." But all paled in comparison to Graceland.

I showed up to Graceland as an excited tourist ready for tacky. I left Graceland in awe. You start the tour in the mansion, which was even more delciously tacky than I could have ever asked for. The den, the pool room, the jungle room. All unbelievable in their decorum. I was snapping pictures left and right, and acting in a way that I'm sure I was more than obnoxious to those around me. But then, we headed outside of the mansion, to the garage where we watched a clip of an interview Elvis gave when he came back from serving in the army. Something started to shift in me. I started to realize, for the first time, that Elvis wasn't just a novelty. He was a real person. Before I could fully develop an admiration, I was scooted off to the record hall, where all of Elvis' awards (sans his international awards) are housed. I was completely paralyzed as I took the turn around the corner and saw the hallway that seemed to stretch for eternity, with nothing but gold and platinum records covering the walls, and shelves of grammies and awards. It's hard to put into words what exactly someone has, but Elvis had that. Back and forth throughout the tour, I was confronted and reminded in a back and forth rotation of how down to earth and normal Elvis was and how outstanding and unique he was. Characteristics that seem to conflict with one another but somehow both existed within the capacity of this one man. That's what made Elvis so special. That's what drew people to him. That was that "something." It was fascinating. He transcended all boundaries. One moment I won't forget on the tour was while we were in the racquetball room. A room full of all generations, literally from all around the world, jammed in this room with four 30 foot high walls covered with international awards and displays of some of Elvis' most memorable stage outfits, practically in silence, outside of Elvis' music reverburating off the walls, all mesmerized by one man. A father leaned down to his little daughter and pointed at a television screen, excitedly saying, "I got to watch this concert live on television when I was about your age."

I have tried to find the right words to express how I feel about Elvis today. Adoration, respectful, captivated, attracted. These are a few words that come to mind when I try to explain what I thought after leaving Graceland. But it just doesn't seem to fully convey my sentiments. I suppose the only thing that I can really say to communicate my opinions on Elvis is that at the end of the tour when we reached his grave, I became so overwhelmed by his presence that I choked up and started crying. Going to Graceland and vicariously experiencing a sliver of Elvis' life impacted mine in a rather surreal way. I never thought of Elvis being in that elite group of individuals that I aspire to, like Benjamin Franklin, my grandparents, and Gilda Radner, but he's there now.

Don't Worry, She Still Can't See

2009-07-23T11:50:00.009-04:00

It's been awhile (to be read in the musical stylings of "Staind"). This is not a real post, but just a reappearance to prove that I'm not dead. I've been working at the Indiana Department of Education for the summer, which has kept me incredibly busy. I also helped teach an undergraduate summer course for the first half of the summer, which opened up to a research assistanceship with the same professor that started mid-summer and will last for the school year, which opened up to another job of surfing youtube for entertaining video clips related to education for the professor to use for her course (sick job!). This summer has also been a marathon of weddings. It's a recession. What else is there to do but get married? So, when I'm not in my cubicle working on education stuff, I'm researching education issues and proofreading and citing for my professor, and when I'm not working for my professor, I'm attending (or a part of) a wedding.

With all of these weddings floating around, it's hard not to consider what will be done at your own wedding, the good and the bad at each wedding, etc. (see a very old post about my wedding plans. I mapped them out during the first wave of friend weddings a couple years back.) Lord knows I'm not getting married any time soon, but if and when I ever do get married I definitely plan on pulling off something like this. I had a smile on my face the entire time I was watching it. Now that's how you're supposed to be at a wedding. I'm putting this idea in the vault.

Zune

2009-05-13T13:08:00.002-04:00

So, I have this thing where I really like to make fun of the Zune (Microsoft's mp3 player). My friend sent me a link informing me that Microsoft plans on releasing a new Zune this June. Zune in June. Pretty clever. My friend and I had a hey day with the comments following the post about the new zune. These zune fans just cannot be contained! It's also very interesting to see how emphatic the European market is about the Zune. I had no idea.

"Bucko said: MS YOU WILL NEVER BEAT APPLE IF YOU DON'T RELEASE in Europe FFS I want a Zune." (FFS = For Fuck's Sake)

"Ricardo Gil said: Let's hope they remember the European market this time."

"Techbeck said: sweet...been holding off on buying anew MP3 player for this." (Really?!?)

"Airlink said: Micro SDHC card slots can take up to a 32 GB card, but those are rare as hen's teeth just yet." (who are these people? I have never even heard of the idiomatic metaphor "rare as hen's teeth.")

I don't think I could express my feelings as eloquently as J4m3z420 put in his/her comment:

"O. If only a Zune in June would come so soon!
I would take it to the moon while I ride a big spoon.
The month of June for the Zune would be nice to have at noon!"

old mix cd's

2009-05-09T20:48:00.003-04:00

I was on a mini road trip when The Verve Pipe's hit song "Freshmen" came on the radio. I couldn't believe that I had almost forgotten that song! It was such a major part of who I was in 6th grade. I remember sitting around in the summer listening to that song over and over and just thinking, "Yeah, I get this. I totally understand what you're going through man. I have NO idea what made us think that we were wise and that we'd never compromise. Gosh, we just had a lot of problems." Mind you, I was exiting 6th grade and was totally feeling the pain that this guy was singing about, when really the only problem I had was trying to hide the fact that I had gotten my period before a majority of the girls in my grade. Something which was a huge embarrassment to me because it compromised my status as a tomboy.

After rocking out and screaming the lyrics on 4-65 I was reminded that I had put "Freshmen" on a mix cd I made in middle school/high school, and then I was reminded that I made some killer mix cd's...at least I thought they were killer, and after listening to them again I still feel like they're killer. Most of the mixes are songs that I remember listening to and thinking, "Yeah, I get this," just like I did with "Freshmen," and looking back it was just such a ridiculous thing to think. I just laugh everytime I think about past Maggie sentimentalling out to killer 90's songs. So, here are some of the playlists of the mix cd's I made in middle school/high school. I always thought that I should work for "NOW that's what I call music" as a compilation expert/cd track arranger for mix cd's.

Alternative Mix (don't know why I called this mix that)
1. The Why Store, "Lack of Water" (a Ft. Wayne band that was amazing)
2. 3 Doors Down, "Be Like That" (this song still gets to me)
3. Tammany Hall, "Wait for You" (I remember hearing this on an HBO commercial & getting chills)
4. Sponge, "Don't Ask Why" (Used to rock out to this on the way to school)
5. Soul Asylum, "Misery" (So bad it's good)
6. Pete Yorn, "For Nancy" (I was young)
7. Pearl Jam, "Better Man" (I freakin' love Pearl Jam)
8. Lynard Skynyrd, "Tuesday's Gone" (I think I put this on because of "Happy Gilmore")
9. Jane's Addiction, "Jane Says" (nuff said)
10. Dave Matthews Band, "Typical Situation" (Every mix has to have one bad song. This one isn't too bad, actually, regardless of the band)
11. Candlebox, "Far Behind" (Stac and I would jam to this song)
12. Bush, "Glycerine" (chills when I listen to this song)
13. Bad Religion, "Sorrow" (again, I was a young mainstream punk)
14. The Avalanches, "Since I Left You" (I listened to this song whenever a guy I liked started dating another girl instead of me. That happened a lot.)
15. Alien Ant Farm, "Movies" (I fell victim to TRL)
16. Garbage, "When I Grow Up" (This was a definite, "I get this")

All Time Best 80's (this was just a party cd, rather than an "I get this" cd)
1. The Pretenders, "Back on the Chain Gang"
2. The Outfielders, "Use your Love"
3. Rick Springfield, "Jesse's Girl"
4. The Police, "Roxanne"
5. Prince, "Little Red Corvette"
6. Nina, "99 Red Balloons"
7. Modern English, "Melt with You"
8. Michael Jackson, "Off the Wall"
9. Men at Work, "Land Down Under"
10. Madonna, "Material Girl"
11. General Public, "Tenderness"
12. Eddie Money, "Take Me Home Tonight"
13. Dream Factory, "Life in a Northern Town"
14. Bruce Springsteen, "Dancin' in the Dark"
15. Bryan Adams, "Summer of '69"
16. Billy Joel, "We Didn't Start the Fire"
17. A-Ha, "Take on Me"
18. Loverboy, "Workin' for the Weekend"

Coffeehouse Mix (all songs I heard while working at the coffeehouse)
1. Led Zepellin, "Fool in the Rain"
2. Dandy Warhols, "Bohemian Like You"
3. Sheryl Crow, "Leaving Las Vegas" (another, "I get this" song)
4. Paul Simon, "50 Ways to Lose Your Lover"
5. Three Dog Night, "Never Been to Spain"
6. Primitive Radio Gods, "Standing Outside a Broken Telephone Booth with Money in my Hands" (This song changed my life. A MAJOR "I get this" song for me.)
7. The Rolling Stones, "You Can't Always Get What You Want"
8. Jeffery Gaines, "In Your Eyes" (the one bad song on the album. Really bad cover. I guess I just like the melody & the lyrics of this song so much to disregard bad music.)
9. Blood, Sweat & Tears, "When I Die" (I decided to have this played at my funeral after they played it at a funeral on "Ally McBeal")
10. The Verve Pipe, "Freshmen" (not to be repetitive, but this song. Dude.)
11. Eagle Eye Cherry, "Save Tonight" (I loved this music video.)
12. Bob Dylan, "Like a Rolling Stone"
13. Counting Crows, "Mr. Potter's Lullaby"
14. Ellis Paul, "This World Ain't Slowin' Down"
15. Ben Folds Five, "Brick" ("I Get This" song)

College Collection (I made this one to get ready for life in the dorms. This is actually incredibly embarrassing.)
1. Eric Clapton, "Lay Down Sally"
2. Ryan Adams, "Wonderwall"
3. Ryan Adams, "Young Boy"
4. Ben Lee, "No Room to Bleed"
5. The Wallflowers, "Closer to You"
6. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, "You're So Bad"
7. The Chemical Brothers, "Golden Path"
8. The Rolling Stones, "Beast of Burden"
9. Dave Matthews Band, "Grace is Gone" (I know it's another DMB, but it was my jam.)
10. Nickel Creek, "Say" (pretty folksy of me)
11. Damien Rice, "Volcano" (WTF?)
12. Edwinn Starr, "Girl Like You" (I always wanted someone to have a slo-mo experience where I walked in and this song was playing. Preferably the dude I would marry. This song is so good.)
13. The White Stripes, "Seven Nation Army"
14. Neil Young, "My My, Hey Hey" (good college song)
15. Parker School of Industry, "Something Pretty" (again, I was coming out of my mainstream punk stage)
16. John Lennon, "Jealous Guy"
17. Gary Jules, "Mad World" (killer cover)
18. Butterfly Boucher, "I Can't Make Me"

Good 90's (I was really into decade mixes)
1. Wilson Phillips, "Hold On"
2. Backstreet Boys, "We've Got it Goin' On"
3. The Proclaimers, "500 Miles"
4. Salt 'n' Pepa, "Let's Talk about Sex"
5. Crash Test Dummies, "Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm"
6. Blind Melon, "No Rain" (This was my theme song for life. The ultimate "I get this" song)
7. Boys II Men, "End of the Road"
8. Paula Abdual, "Promise of a New Day"
9. Annie Lennox, "Walking on Broken Glass"
10. Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Impression that I Get" (I used to play this song on my sax in band so I would look cool.)
11. Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
12. Michael Jackson, "Black or White"
13. Kriss Kross, "Jump"
14. Mariah Carey, "Emotions"
15. Whitney Houston, "I Will Always Love You"
16. Dave Matthews Band, "Ants Go Marching" (Damn, what IS it with all this DMB, past Maggie?)
17. Tag Team, "Whomp, There it is"
18. PM Dawn, "Patient Eyes"
19. Lisa Loeb, "You Say" (Another anthem for life. "I get this.")

Love Songs on Magic (This was named after Magic 95.1 radio station, which turned into "Love Songs on Magic" with Delilah after 8pm.)
1. Tracy Chapman, "Fast Car"
2. The Police, "I'll be Watching You"
3. Smashing Pumpkins, "Tonight"
4. Sheryl Crow,"Strong Enough to be My Man" (story of my life...not really, but past Maggie totally thought that, and present Maggie still listens to for girl power. "I get this.")
5. Wings, "Silly Love Songs"
6. Norah Jones, "Don't Know Why"
7. Wycleaf Jean w/ Mary J. Blige, "911" (I was also really ghetto)
8. Joan Armastrading, "Weakness in Me" (stole from "10 Things I Hate About You")
9. INOQ, "Love You Down"
10. India Arie, "I Am Ready for Love"
11. Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris" (I get this)
12. Etta James, "At Last" (overplayed, but still good)
13. Des'ree, "Kissing You" (Chills just thinking about "Romeo & Juliet")
14. Deanna Carter, "Strawberry Wine"
15. Boys II Men, "I'll Make Love to You"
16. Aaliyah, "Missing You"
17. Force MD, "Tender Love"

Maggie's Mellow Music (I've always been really into alliteration)
1. ELO, "Mr. Blue Sky" (my obsession started at a young age)
2. Van Morrison, "Everyone"
3. The Verve, "Bittersweet Symphony"
4. Lou Reed, "Take a Walk on the Wild Side"
5. The Proclaimers, "It's Over and Done With"
6. The Band, "The Weight"
7. The Rolling Stones, "2000 Man"
8. Love, "Alone Again Or"
9. Pete Townsend, "Let My Love Open the Door"
10. The Beatles, "A Day in the Life"
11. American Dreams Soundtrack, "Another American Folk Song" (From one of my favorite television shows. Made me cry.)
12. Talking Heads, "Days Go By"
13. Steely Dan, "Peg" (probably the best song of all time. Glad I found it so early in my life.)
14. Joe Walsh, "Life's Been Good"
15. Dave Grohl, "Ewok Song"

Mix de Mags (full on junior high mix because I thought Spanish was funny & clever)
1. Ja Rule, "Between Me & You"
2. Aerosmith, "Livin' on the Edge"
3. R. Kelley, "I Wish"
4. Whitney Houston, "I'm Your Baby Tonight"
5. Subline, "Santeria"
6. Warren G, "I Want it All" (Warren G was my rapper alter ego)
7. Spice Girls, "Holler"
8. U2, "Beautiful Day"
9. TQ, "Daily"
10. TQ, "Better Days"
11. Michael Jackson, "Man in the Mirror"
12. Janet Jackson, "If"
13. Blink 182, "Dammit"

Really Weird Mix
1. Missy Elliot, "Gossip Folks"
2. Young MC, "Me, Myself, & I"
3. Ready for the World, "Oh Sheila"
4. Mo Thugs, "Ghetto Cowboys"
5. TQ, "Summertime"
6. Sinead O'Connor, "Nothing Compares to You" (I get this)
7. Wyclef Jean, "Cluck Cluck"
8. Craig David, "Fill Me In"
9. NSync, "Dirty Pop"
10. Janet Jackson, "Never Fall in Love with You Again"
11. Philly's Most Wanted, "Cross the Border"
12. Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"

Rock...Rock Steady (Ghetto Maggie Mix)
1. Cash Money Millionaires, "Cash, Money, Cars, Clothes"
2. Chaka Demus & Pliers, "Murder She Wrote"
3. Alicia Keys, "How Come You Don't Call Me Anymore"
4. ??, "We Ready" (After all these years I still don't know who sang this)
5. B Rich, "Whoa Now" (classic Maggie song. This was from when I used to watch 106th & Park everyday after school)
6. Coo Coo Cal, "In My Projects"
7. Young MC, "Busta Move"
8. Fabolous, "Holla Back Youngin"
9. Ja Rule w/ Bobbi Brown, "Thug Lovin'"
10. Mr. Cheeks, "Lights, Camera, Action"
11. Philly's Most Wanted, "Please Don't Mind"
12. Redman, "Smash Something"
13. Trick Daddy, "Thug Holiday" (I get this)
14. Wyclef Jean, "Perfect Gentlemen"
15. Clipse, "When the Last Time"
16. Wyclef Jean, "Gone 'til November" (Oh yes, I totally get this)
17. Field Mob, "Sick of Being Lonely"
18. Foxy Brown, "Oh Yeah"
19. Mary J. Blige, "Real Love" (My jam)

New Idea

2009-05-02T13:20:00.002-04:00

The other day I finished an exam and met a friend for celebratory ice cream at the local sundae shop. We walked and talked and thought about foods and snacks and kitchen appliances. Then, we had an idea. The idea was born in the midst of the age old conversation about having a microwave that makes something instantly cold, and a discussion about novelty kitchen items.

Our mindshape? The New Wave Microwave.

Blenders, food processors, hand mixers, toasters, bagel slicers, rice cookers, vegetable peelers, can openers, measuring cups, etc. are all included in the recent movement of revamping appliances into kitschy and fashionable kitchen gadgets to appeal to the foodie, gastrosexual, hipster and young Hollywood mom crowds. But why has no one tapped into the resource of the microwave? They still look the same as they have for as long as I've been in the market for microwaves, and essentially still take on the same form as they did at their inception. A shapeless, chunky box with plain buttons, a standard beeping timer, and a digital clock/timer combo where the "popcorn" setting never works. Why not put some spice into that cooker?

The new wave microwave would be just what your left over lasagna needs to make your tastebuds dance one more time...and make you dance while it's getting warmed up! The new wave microwave would have a very interesting geometric shape that would still be conducive to your countertop space. It would be covered in that typical "new wave" spacey look with that dirty teal color and that bubblegum medicine pink serving as accent colors. When you push the buttons, they would sound like a "Speak and Spell" or an SK-1 Casio keyboard. But the best part of the microwave begins when you start cookin'. When you push that "start" button the new wave microwave starts pumpin' the jams while your meat is being pumped with electrical waves are pumped into your pecan crusted chicken breast. For 1 minute 35 seconds, you can rock out to the musical stylings of New Order, Flock of Seagulls, The Thompson Twins, The Fixx, The Psychadelic Furs, and all your favorite new wave bands. While the music's playing, your meal is spinning on a record turntable inside the new wave microwave. And, you know that light that comes on inside the microwave? Well, that light will actually be a black light that will reveal all of the grease graffitti, or a sort of strobe light/disco ball that will provide for a more dance floor friendly lighting alternative. And why should your food have all the fun? The new wave microwave will also include a fog machine that shoots out of the side vents so that it sets the right tone for you to boogie down.

I think this will be a revolutionary move in kitchens across the globe. No more standing around waiting for your food, or leaving the room to try and get something done while your meal is heating up only to be interrupted by that obnoxious beep, pulling you away from the project you just began. The New Wave Mircrowave. Look for it.

Extra Note

2009-04-28T09:51:00.002-04:00

Probably the best comment I received yesterday was from my friend Jenn Jameson, in reference to the Indian video featured in the previous post:

"It makes me think of United Colors of Benneton!"

finals procrastination with the hep of the youtubes

2009-04-27T20:17:00.003-04:00

I feel like this is turning into a video sharing spot lately, but since it's finals season I have a lot of time to dilly dally on the internets. These are videos that have kept me entertained while I study the intricacies of the relationship between state and local governments. Enjoy as much as I did!

Mortal Kombat Mishaps 1 - watch more gamer videos

Mortal Kombat Mishaps 2 - watch more gamer videos

No Breakfast in Heaven?

2009-04-19T20:57:00.005-04:00

Okay, I've decided I don't want to go to Heaven anymore. This song changed everything for me. Also, I'm very confused about their breakfast choices. Beef stew? Lipton tea? Pork chops?

A few points of interest:
1. It seems like they start out okay in regards to traditional breakfast meal items, but by the, what, 19th verse?, they start searching.

2. Why have all of the instruments that you hear in the track set up in, what appears to be the stage setting for "Happy Days" when you're just going to use a track? I guess they just wanted to be more honest with their audience, rather than have people sitting & acting like they're playing. But wait...that "back up singer" is doing just that. She doesn't even try to sing into the microphone, and there are parts of the song where she just quits entirely. No singing. Just staring.

3. My favorite parts, which make me laugh out loud, are when he goes, "No more oat-meal" very staccato, and when he starts the cereal verse and sings, "No more Captain Crunch."

4. Also, is that a magic eye quilt back there?

Hoppy Easter

2009-04-12T17:55:00.002-04:00

My childhood Easters were usually spent complaining about the fact that I had to wear a dress (a big, poofy dress) and being bummed because I was robbed of the big egg in the hunt. I'm glad those days are over, because it's way more fun to reflect on the actual celebration of the resurrection of Christ. More and more, as I dig deeper into my personal relationship with Christ, I've been reminded of His humanity. I think this point gets bypassed a lot of times when considering Christ's role here on earth. Sure, He was God, but He was also a man which means that He experienced emotional elation and depression, physical pain, developed relationships and held memorable happenings. Two of the most compelling elements of the "Easter message" scriptures, in my opinion, are those parts that show Christ's humanity because they provide so much more context for us in regards to what Jesus experienced, and reveals more about Christ's exhaultedness.

The first gripping part for me is to look at Jesus, see that He knows that He can save himself but He refuses to do so because He wants to do God's will. Personally, I don't think that Jesus, after becoming a man and experiencing all of the human elements (physical pain, emotions), was completely ecstatic and settled in what He had to do, and I think that Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane is rather telling of this. I feel like it's pretty evident that Jesus' outcry to His father seemed kind of like, "Okay, I know that you have the power to cure this, which would mean I wouldn't necessarily have to do it. It would save me a lot of pain and hardship, so, maybe you should just take care of it? But, I do know that if that's not how you want it to be, then I can't change it. I'll do what you want me to do. And if that means that the series of events to follow unfold in a way that you don't allow for me to avoid this fate, then so be it." Then Jesus just had to sit tight and watch things unfold and pray that humanity would catch one of the cues being thrown their way. This, to me, would be so incredibly hard to do. To just sit back and let everyone around you make their own decision, while you sit there and know who you are and what you can do for them. But that's what He had to do. He just had to be quiet and let everyone make their own decision about His fate. Then, Jesus' cry while on the cross, which is paralleled with Psalm 22, reveals his sentiment of complete desertion. Everyone has turned on him, and in experiencing this, He doesn't even see God, His father. "Why have you forsaken me?" Why can't I see that you are going to save me from all of this? Where are you in my struggle? But even in all of this loneliness and hopelessness, Jesus never quits it. He sticks to it because He knows that God's plan will be fulfilled (and fulfilled through Jesus himself--so thank goodness He didn't quit it).

The other happening, in regards to Jesus' magnificence divinity being revealed through his humanity is while Jesus was hanging on the cross and the two thieves were yelling out at and to him. Okay, so, by this time Jesus had been physically abused to a point that had to have been untolerably painful and brutal, and had experienced so much hatred and mockery from everyone surrounding him. If I were him, I would've been like, "F you guys." He saw firsthand how awful humanity could be. I would have been so debased in my cause if I were in the same position. I mean, here He is, dying for these people, who have done nothing but turned their back on Him, and physically and verbally abused him, making a fool of him. The thoughts going through my head would've been something along the lines of, "why on earth am I doing all of this for these people? They don't deserve this. If they didn't get it before, they're never going to get it." He even gets ripped into by a criminal (not to mention, people would rather He be dead than a maniacal murderer). "If you are the Christ, why don't you save yourself?" asked one criminal in a mocking tone. And then, bam. "But the other criminal rebuked him. 'Don't you fear God,' he said, 'since you are under teh same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." Gosh, that really hits me. It's almost like, when you're at your last end, you can't take it anymore, you think that your pursuit is a hopeless endeavor, and then there's a ray of light. Someone gets it. It almost seems like Jesus was like, "Yes. I got through to one person. To me, that's enough. My actions haven't been in vain. There is hope." which is why I think that Jesus answered the criminal by telling him that he would be with Jesus in paradise. I picture Jesus so overwhelmed with emotion by the actions of this individual. I also like to think that it was an interaction motivated by God the Father. As a way of comforting His son and letting Him know that all of the pain is worth it.

So that's what I've been thinking about this Easter. Perhaps I'm taking the story and shaping it to apply to my life in a way that I can relate to my personal situation in order to better understand Christ's predicament; but I don't see any fault in that. I think it's being ignorant to think that Jesus was completely sure of what He was doing throughout the immediate series of events leading to his death (and resurrection). And I think that's one of the things I like most about Jesus. He wasn't completely sure at times, but He never faltered. He kept with it because He wanted to do God's will, and even though He might not have been fully secure and confident He never lost faith; He never lost hope; and He never stopped believing. Thank goodness for that; and thank goodness that He knew that He is life.

Music Likes

2009-04-07T09:41:00.003-04:00

Sunday night I was supposed to work on a paper for a professor who leaves such debasing comments as "increasingly reckless and unresponsive" and "Is English your first language?" Instead of making progress on a paper I knew would be torn to shreds, I decided to occupy my time with Mr. Big. "To Be With You" has got to be one of my all-time favorite songs, and as I soon learned, I share this love with the Japanese people. Here are some wonderful videos of Japanese renditions of "To Be With You."

This video is amazing. Just check out the part where he misses the cue. And the part where he does the instrumental breakdown with the tongue trill. So good!

Interesting cover...with a melodica!!

Really odd game show. The guy is singing while he's wearing an apron? And his girlfriend is getting teary-eyed? And there's a rack of clothes on the side of the set? So do they just grab something and tell these people to put on some random article and sing a song?

Another music thing I've really been into is Electric Light Orchestra. AMAZING. Just blowing my mind. There's this song, "Yours Truly, 2095" that is so great. It's a part of this concept album they did, which is another thing I'm really into. It's just such a good idea! Any time storytelling is involved, I'm there. Just check out some of the lyrics to this song:

I drive the very latest hovercar
I dont know where you are
But I miss you so much till then
I met someone who looks a lot like you
She does the things you do
But she is an ibm.

She is the latest in technology
Almost mythology
But she has a heart stone
She has an i.q. of 1001
She has a jumpsuit on
And shes also a telephone.

Although her memory banks overflow
No one would ever know
For all she says: is that what you want?
Maybe one day Ill feel her cold embrace
And kiss her interface
til then, Ill leave her alone.

Here's a killer anime video with a few of the songs from the concept album. My mind was blown!

Good Song

2009-03-31T11:57:00.002-04:00

This song really gets to me. I have a version by Pedro the Lion that I've been listening to. It makes me cry, and it's a good prayer.

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee, Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle-shield, sword for my fight,
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower.
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heav'ns Son!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.

Documentary about the Future

2009-03-30T17:34:00.003-04:00

Here's a fantasy documentary on computers written by Douglas Adams. It's pretty trippy. Especially when they fast forward to 2005. Man, that was a crazy year.

Hyperland

Spring Break '09

2009-03-17T14:50:00.003-04:00

My first choice for spring break activity is to travel. This year I couldn't find a travel partner, so I went with my second choice for spring break activity, which is to head up to Ft. Wayne, hang out with the family, and watch loads and loads of television. I don't have tv at my home and rarely have the chance to visit a friend that has a working boob tube. I started the break watching wedding shows with my mom and gawking at the spoiled brides disappointed with their $20,000 gowns, and the bridezillas asking their guests for money to cover the rehearsal dinner. Who knew weddings could be so entertaining?

From there, I made the trip over to my dad's, where I caught up on the news and watched a "Golden Girls" marathon. I think that I went shopping at the Salvation Army that the wardrobe department for the show must have donated the clothes after the Gals went off the air because I could've sworn that I was wearing the same sweater that Sophia wore in one of the episodes. I then flipped over to a show where the hosts (and I) criticize the wardrobes of others. I sat there in my granny sweater, gasping in total digust at the outfits of others. My dad then suggested that I be on that show because I would "be good."

Although it was great to catch some "Parental Control," "Wheel of Fortune" and "AFV," the gem of spring break had to be what my dad and I came across on the Discovery Channel. I don't remember the name of the show, but I do remember that the topic was on the little-known sport of freestyle canoeing. I fell in love. It made me reconsider my choice of wanting to live in a city as I watched the freedom these individuals had to just create their own sport out of a boat and paddle. I yearned for such a mundane existence that would force me to create something out of what I have available. I mean, that is the only way that anyone would come up with something like freestyle canoeing. The other great point of appreciation is that the participants do not take their artform lightly. In the partner canoeing, the men and women wear formal tops. One of the contestants dressed up like a pirate for his routine. (I looked him up on youtube, and in the year prior to the pirate routine he did "Phantom of the Opera." See video below)

The American Canoe Association defines freestyle canoeing as "the art and science of quiet water paddling." My personal favorite comment on one of the videos describes the couples' routine as such: "I can see why they are world champions, for a moment I forgot it was a canoe and it became a dolphin but with wings, then the winged dolphin canoe beast wasn't flying or swimming, it was floating as if weightless and suspended in a plane between sky and water."

Some of you might think that this is just as ridiculous as rhythmic gymnastics or synchronized swimming (both pretty awesome). For those of you who doubt the wonderment of freestyle canoeing, let me pose this question to you, asked of the readers of the "freestyle canoeing pamphlet": "What could be better than a canoe, water and the ability to maneuver gracefully?"

I think it's time we all shift from the "extreme" sports world and enter into a new era of "graceful" sports. We need to participate in activities where the chances of your bone snapping and puncturing through your skin are slim to nil, and the biggest worry you have is "boat bobble."

tattoo

2009-03-09T20:09:00.005-04:00

I think I'm going to get a tattoo. Here is my idea. I want to get a teapot, a classic, quirky tea pot, that says "whistle!!!" out the spout. While sitting in a tattoo parlor, waiting for my friend Pete to get tatted, we came up with an idea of having the tea pot I want, but then, on the other side of "whistle!!!" there would be Tupac, looking like he's whistling. That way, you don't know if it's Tupac or the Teapot that's whistling. Then, you start asking which one is doing the whistling and it becomes a tongue twister. Tupac? Tea pot? Just try saying it.

Here is the MS Paint conception of the tattoo. I did the tea pot and Pete did Tupac. I'm not as good at MS Paint as Pete, so he did the tough part.

Eating Habits

2009-03-03T16:40:00.003-05:00

I have never liked eating in front of people because I always feel like a savage barbarian. I especially refuse to eat chicken wings or ribs or anything on a bone. It's not a good look for anyone. On an impulse, while eating my lunch, I decided that I would record myself eating just so I could see how bad it really was. To my surprise, it wasn't as painfully grotesque as I expected.

After watching this video, I learned of a few things that I should probably work on:

1. Smaller bites. That first bite I took was absurdly large. It was continental. Thank goodness for those chunky cheeks...serves as padding to the fact that I have a massive wad of bread, lettuce, tomato & cheese shoved in there.
2. Take my time. I'm not competing for the fastest masticated sandwich award. Might as well slow down and enjoy the ride.
3. Watch that tongue swipe/teeth clean check move. It looks really gross and very Uncle-esque.

While I still have some progress to make, I do think I did some things right:

1. I kept my mouth closed.
2. I used the full range of my jaw extension. If you notice, my jaw goes up & down and in a circle. You can also tell that I maneuver that sandwich around in my mouth so that both sides of teeth get a chance at it. Or at least that I rotate sides in chewing. My jaw sort of goes in this left angle, right angle pattern. I think that's good.

Overall, I think that this was a positive experience for me. I'm not too ashamed of eating in front of others now that I realize it could be worse.

Birthday Present

2009-02-21T22:00:00.002-05:00

My friend D.J. made this video for my birthday party. It's amazing. Check it out:

Cribs: College Life--Big P.T. & Magsta P

Break down

2009-02-16T12:55:00.002-05:00

I am adamantly opposed to the facebook "25 things" lists, mostly because of the whole "tagging" of friends thing. So, instead of creating a list on facebook, I decided to use my personal blog as the spot to carry out such an ego-centric task. I feel better about myself knowing that I'm not "mentioning" anyone in my "note" so that they will be compelled to read about me & then pressured into making their own list; that I'm not taking anyone down with me in my efforts to be full of myself. Here goes:

1. I'm ridiculously clumsy. Most of my injuries are a result of this clumsiness (most likely due to the fact that I'm zoned out for most of my life & my mind is wandering other places). I have lots of bruises all of the time. The 2 major injuries of my life were the result of 1) a mishap on a teeter totter & 2) slamming my hand in the car door after I forgot my registration form for poms camp in kindergarten.
2. I’ve been to 8 countries so far: Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Germany, Czech Republic, England, & Dominican Republic. My favorite city was London; the best time I've had abroad was while in Prague.
3. If I made it to the Olympics, I would want to compete in speed skating. Or speed walking. I'm a really fast walker.
4. I have unproportionally small feet for my body.
5. My favorite smelly marker is the sky blue one.
6. While in London, I got in a heated argument with my bosses over the use of the letter “z.” I think it was probably the most passionate and most eloquent I've ever been in defending one of my opinions.
7. Growing up, I didn't have posters of NKOTB or Hammer. I had political campaign signs hanging on my walls that my mom, brother & I stole the night of an election after the polls closed.
8. My most embarrassing moment was in 4th grade. My (now) friend Jeff Smith knew that I had a crush on my (now) friend Ryan Lough. While we were standing in line to go to science class, Jeff drew attention to my new shorts (really big, past the knee, blue plaid flannel shorts with a drawstring) and elbowed Ryan Lough as he said to me, “Hey Maggie, I like your shorts.”
9. While growing up, I wanted to have braces, glasses and be pigeon-toed.
10. In 6th grade, after not going number 2 for over a month (which was normal occurrence, or non-occurrence, for me), my parents took me to the doctor to see what was wrong with me. He said that I was severely constipated and had a bowel movement the size of Atlanta in my colon.
11. I hate the words spore, polyp, moist and yeast; my favorite word is serendipity.
12. My personality type is INFJ. I have extreme social anxiety and love any chance to be someone other than me. I'm a pisces and there is a tie between a manatee & a panda bear for my spirit animal.
13. As a kid, I used to draw floor plans for fun, and in high school I loved doing punnet squares in high school bio.
14. I won one of those contests like the McDonald's monopoly game when I was a kid. It was for "Mars" candy bars and you had to collect candy wrappers so that you had all of the letters to spell "MARS." I got a cool poster with alien candies in outer space. It was then replaced with a political campaign poster.
15. I am currently in law school, but I plan on being a high school history or English teacher in an urban school district.
16. I love the smell of gasoline & rubber cement. I think my parents were worried I was going to be a drug addict. I also used to walk around the house acting like I was smoking a cigarette & had lots of social obligations weighing me down, like a classy lady in the 1940's.
17. I have a thing where I recite "The 12 Days of Christmas" in my head when I’m nervous/anxious. I usually start at "4 calling birds," and repeat that over and over, but sometimes I start from the beginning (12 drummers drumming) and repeat that rhythm up until 5 golden rings.
18. I almost drown twice as a kid. Three if you count the time I got stuck in the toilet. I think it had something to do with the fact that I am always in lala land. Or that I never learn my lesson.
19. I'm a Jesus lover.
20. Only my right armpit sweats, and usually when I'm really cold. I have a theory that it's a sort of reverse attempt at homeostasis. I'm always freezing, so that poor right arm works in doubletime to try to psyche my body into thinking it's hot.
21. The 3 things that make me laugh more than anything are farts, people falling and people getting hit unexpectedly. Needless to say, I'm a huge fan of "America's Funniest Home Videos."
22. My celebrity crushes are Andrew McCarthy; Ethan Embry; Beck; Johnny Carson; Colin Firth; Ira Glass; Wes Anderson; and Franklin Pierce, solely for his hair.
23. My brothers used to blame me every time food went missing. They nicknamed me “Chewy”/Chebacca because one time all of the chewy chips ahoys were gone. My mom also blamed me when her slim fast bars went missing.
24. I was a card-carrying member of the Libertarian party before I went to law school. Then I realized it made no sense & a libertarian society was unattainable. So, I became extremely liberal; perhaps even Socialist? That might be a stretch.
25. At one point in my life I had a Dogbert stuffed animal. I've never been so ashamed of any other action I've taken in my life than I am of the fact that I owned a Dilbert-affiliated accessory.

2 Books I'm Going to Get

2009-02-11T09:59:00.002-05:00

I'm really into these 2 books. I think I'm going to use my $25 gift certificate for Amazon.com to swing for these 2 pieces of literature:

NYTimes article

"I Saw You..."

"Important Artifacts"

Turns out, I want to read all of the books listed for both of these authors. Sound right up my alley!

Double Breakthrough!

2009-02-10T15:27:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I posted about the major breakthrough that occurred on IECW, with the comment from Marian Salzman. Today, I have more great news. It seems that Ms. Salzman's cohort couldn't resist IECW either! Robert Pondiscio has now posted his own comment on our blog. Not only does he make a remark directed at our blog, but he also uses our blog to communicate electronically with Ms. Salzman! I thought my mind had reached the ceiling on blowings, but it turns out I was wrong. When I discovered Pondiscio's comment in the middle of class, I almost had to leave the room. I sent Pete, my fellow IECW contributor, an email where the sole text was "OMG OMG OMG!!!" I then ran out into the streets shouting, "WE DID IT!! WE'VE MADE IT!!"

To check it out, go here:

Double Boosh!

Breakthrough!

2009-02-09T19:48:00.002-05:00

For those of you who follow my other blog project, Interpersonal Electronic Communications Weekly, I have some exciting news. A week ago we posted on the the quintessential electronic communications guide, The Ultimate On-Line Homework Helper by Robert Pondiscio and Marian Salzman, and to our total elation, Ms. Salzman posted a comment on our post! When I informed Pete (my collaborator on IECW), over text message, his response of "you've got to be shitting me" dripped of shock and disbelief. I couldn't believe it myself. I sat there and re-read the comment over and over, spending more time trying to understand what it all meant than I do pondering the meaning of life. To Pete and I, it meant that we hit the big time. Pressure's on to produce in the blogosphere. I'm still a little stunned, but I can honestly say that I have never been so flattered in my life.

To check it out, go here:

BOOSH!

Scribbles

2009-02-06T10:48:00.002-05:00

This is pretty rough (needs some editing & refining), but I wrote it early this morning and decided it had been a long time since I had actually done anything in this writing genre/serious stuff (about a year) and I should just get it out there so people don't think I'm strictly potty talk. Also, I hate the word potty. Words I hate: potty, polyp, moist, panties, yeast, cunt.

I went to dream last night and noticed that your scent had disappeared from my pillow. Or was it that I just don’t recognize it anymore? I dug my head deeper and deeper in search of you until I became suffocated by anxiety and my eyes were pressed so intensely against the pillow that the darkness turned into a tv blizzard and I was at once blinded by the extreme and illuminated whiteness that struck me and jolted me through the atmosphere as though I was a phoenix exploding. I squinted through the snowflakes and saw an outline of a figure vaguely familiar painted across the sky. The amber sun, barely visible as it quickly sunk into the horizon, cast a glow on the sky in the tint of your skin and the whispy clouds filled in your scalp, as only they could mimic the sloppiness of your draping hair grazing the hidden blueness of your eyes. I reached up as I caught your chilly breeze and the wind grabbed my hand as we dodged the streetcars but just as I was falling, I fell. You let go. All I wanted was to dive into the snow and tread the igloo mounds built up in a fortress that was blocking me from enveloping you. Let down the drawbridge so I can cross this icy moat. Come on; be with me. But as you stood in the threshold of the gate, you looked out as though I was a stranger to your heart and said, disbelieving, “Precipitation is for lovers.” I said, “I’ll be your umbrella.” You approached with trepidation, as though you wanted it but didn’t know how or why, never knowing that I didn’t hold the answer to those questions because I too was mystified by such quandaries and was never good at riddles. With one breath, I melt. With one look, I melt. With one word, I melt. But the chill of the day glossed over and left me in a crystallized form while you ice-skated on the surface of my emotions. “Why couldn’t I just be like one of the others?” I exclaimed to the other rebel bunnies as we stood against the brick wall, smoking icicle cigarettes on the playground, exhaling subzero steam and wondering whether it is worthwhile waiting as the numbness in my fingers began to tingle through my bones and made it’s way, intravenously, to my heart and I prayed for a fresh coat of snow to hastily fall and cover up all of the imperfections that formed as a result of my unruly passion as I defended my desire to live a life full of cuddly hug sound effects as though you and I were Eskimos in a pit of teddy bears and I realized why it is that the only way to get to you is to chisel a sculpture out of nature’s glass or dig my ice pick deeper and deeper into you until the hot spring bursts through the fissure and ruptures my expectations and I decide that you don’t want me to be blasted by the shock so I sheepishly hide away in the cliffs of solitude with my mittens dangling out of my pockets because everything seems so swollen and I can’t find a tissue.

Bathroom Etiquette, 3

2009-01-31T13:54:00.002-05:00

Sometimes it's hard to tell whether a restroom is occupied. Sometimes it's not. When it's evident that the stall is occupied, let it go; not your bladder but the door handle.

My friend and I were talking about my bathroom experience (discussed in "bathroom etiquette 1"), which segwayed into a discussion of one of his personal pet peeves.

"I hate it when you're in the single-stall bathroom and a person pushes on the door, which is clearly locked, and then when they can't open the door they knock."

I personally never knock on a bathroom door, unless I happen to be at a crazy drunken orgy of a party and I don't know what to expect in any room, so I end up closing my eyes and walking into the room backwards. There are ways around knocking that don't disturb the user in a way that might stunt progress. I for one hate it when someone knocks on the bathroom door. I never know what to do. I don't want to yell because I feel weird. I don't really know what I'm supposed to say. If you say, "Just a minute!" it comes off pushy, and for some reason I feel like the person knocking always assumes that you're pooping. If you say "I'm going to the bathroom," it just seems redundant. They should've realized that you were using the bathroom when they noticed that the door was locked. The additional knock post locked-door push is just superfluous. If you don't say anything in response to the knock, then they try the door again. I feel like the chances of a bathroom being locked and vacant are slim enough that knocks should not be necessary. Be patient, wait your turn, and don't rush others because you most likely wouldn't like to be rushed.

Bathroom Etiquette, 2

2009-01-27T15:50:00.003-05:00

On an average day, by 11am I have voluntarily provided myself with more laxatives than a 73 year-old, cardholder of AARP intakes in a week. Today was no different. I trekked 20 minutes through half a foot of snow to get to school. I gnawed on my fibrous energy bar before class. I guzzled 2 big glasses of tea. I snacked on a crispy apple. Then it hit. I walked through the stacks of books and made my way to the second floor restroom of the library. I have this safety routine where, if I notice that one of the two stalls is spoken for, I turn right back around & sit at the desk that's nearby the bathroom door unassumingly reading up on tort reform, waiting for the partially occupied public restroom to be all mine. But this time, I didn't turn back around. I noticed that there was someone already in the handicapped stall, but for some reason I thought it was okay to take the risk. I stepped into the vacant stall in the 2-stall bathroom, and waited. I have taken the risk before and it has always seemed to pay off, but apparently fate decided it was time to put a wrench in my streak. I guess this is better than putting a streak in my underwear.

I sat and I sat. We both sat in silence. It was a stand off. My inference that the other individual was going to be in and out had proven false, but I refused to cave. She had her chance before I got there. So I waited. The rustle of the toilet paper roll echoed against the grey tiles. "Phew!" She was budging. I heard a whisper from the next stall, "Oh, there it is." Darn. She wasn't going anywhere. I crossed my fingers hoping that it wasn't this month's "Reader's Digest" that she had just found. I continued to sit, anticipating the chance to take a load off. I thought to myself, "Gosh, Maggie, quit being so stubborn. Just do it & go." Then, the toilet next door flushed and caught me off guard. A feeling of elation came over me, until I came to the realization that there was no post-flush clamor and the door didn't open. I slumped back down, only to be jolted by yet another flush next door, once again with no post-flush clamor. I had reached my boiling point. Since the gal on the other side of the separator wasn't going to buck up, I guess I had to. Who knows how long this was going to go on. I understood she was providing herself (and me) with courtesy flushes so that she could go without being heard, and I would have a chance to slip mine in under the muffle of the water pressure, but I just couldn't work under that pressure, so I got up and left. Luckily, the third floor bathroom of the library was awaiting my arrivals with open stalls.

Bathroom Etiquette

2009-01-22T18:14:00.002-05:00

(THIS POST IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES)

A week ago I went to a well known Mexican restaurant in town, where it is well known that I cannot think about the cheese drizzled on their enchiladas without experiencing some form of nausea or gag reflux. It was about negative 3 degrees outside, I was sitting on the inside of the booth with no easy access, and somewhere between the 80 chimichangas piled up each arm my waiter managed to keep my diet pop bottomless. When I was finally given access out of the booth, I had to go. I ran through the restaurant, banking corners, when I finally made it to the bathroom nook of the restaurant. From my angle of attack, I could only see one of the doors to the restrooms. I looked up and thought that I saw "MEN" in wooden blocks above the door frame, so I sharply turned the corner and approached a door where the door handle flashed a "vacant" sign. I quickly turned the nob, took one frantic step across the threshold, looked up and to my right to map out which direction I was headed, but instead of seeing a "vacant" bathroom I was promised I found an upright man to the right of the toilet with his face toward the wall. I stood there so shocked that I could've peed my pants and not know it. My initial thought was, "What is this man doing in the women's bathroom?" Since he had decided to occupy the women's restroom I would invconvenience all of the other men in response to the actions of one of their kind. I turned to enter the bathroom across the hall, which also promised to be "vacant", and was relieved to see that it was just going to be me in this uni-stall bathroom. As I sat there releasing enough diet coke to fill a 10-gallon hat, I looked around at where I was. It was then that I realized that I had walked into the men's restroom. I don't think this was entirely my fault. I think the biggest contributor to my bathroom blunder was the fact that the gender specificator was not at eye level, and the fact that I was coming from an angle made it easy for the "WO" to get cut out of sight. And I didn't see my friend in her ever-fashionable triangle skirt posted anywhere near the bathrooms. After justifying my actions through the erroneous notification schemes of Casa Brava restaurant, I was struck with another puzzle. Why on earth was there a man in a "vacant" bathroom? Not just a dude hanging out, but a dude doing his business. Was this some guy courtesty thing I didn't know about? Was this arrangement of one guy on the urinal, one guy on the toilet the equivalent to the ever-elusive napkin & tampon machine? Not only that, there was no divider between the stall and the urinal. They were side by side and alone with one another in a big one person bathroom. Scenarios started playing out in my mind. "What happens if one guy has to "sit down" on the toilet and the other one is standing at the urinal? Then what happens when the urinal guy is done? He can't lock the door behind him, so that leaves a pooper susceptible to a random walk-in." I was perplexed. This arrangement was working on a plane that I just couldn't comprehend. One where there was no thought out plan of execution. I felt like I discovered Tutankhamun's mummy, and now in writing this post I feel like I've leaked the story of Watergate to the press.

(Follow up: I've done some research and apparently this type of behavior is normal amongst older, middle aged men, but all of the males that I asked said that they would not have used the vacant toilet, albeit for either excretory purpose, and would always lock the door behind them so that the bathroom is "occupied".)

New Blog

2009-01-10T15:44:00.002-05:00

My colleague, and fellow blogger, Peter Giordano and I have decided to start a new blog focusing on electronic communication methods, and how to develop the right set of skills to accurately portray the message you are trying to convey. How many times have you been in a situation where you're trying to convey sarcasm over instant message and the result is a loss of friendship? Ever wonder how to write a professional email to your professor or boss concerning the fact that you will not be turning in a paper or report at the deadline they assigned, and make them be okay with that? Well, this is the blog for you. We will be discussing how to electronically convey communication on many different subjects, offer professional tips, and answer any questions you might have on a particular subject in our "Q & A" segments. Here is the link to the blog:

Interpersonal Electronic Communications Weekly

I hope you enjoy my newest project!

Name Dropping

2009-01-09T14:23:00.002-05:00

Normally I don't like to name drop, or tell people that I know special people or I have done special things. For example, I don't tell people that I was in an L.S. Ayres commercial as a child where I had to sit in a pit of teddy bears and was directed to kiss one of the bears, to which I responded (at the ripe age of 5) that I wasn't that type of girl. I don't tell people that I was 10 feet away from Johnny Rotten at a bar while in London having my farewell drinks with my bosses & co-worker. I don't tell people that the 1980 Miss America, Cheryl Prewitt, proclaimed that I (again, at the ripe age of 5...must've been my best year in regards to looks) had "pageant legs." I don't tell people that I won an air guitar contest while in London, and walked away with an mp3 player and the disgarded sweat of random, drunken Brits wiped on me in the midst of a congratulatory & strangerly embrace. But, I will tell people this: my professor has been nominated as the head of the Office of Legal Counsel for President-Elect Obama.

Last semester I took a seminar on Separation of Powers law. The issue of separation of powers is one that has always fascinated me, as I am constantly amazed at the strength of checks and balances, and how much, without the average American's knowledge, such a procedural system impacts our everyday lives, especially when the system is abused. This system is the source of and catalyst for any issue where the government should be, or shouldn't be, concerned. The past 8 years has served as an example of what happens when an administration renders it unnecessary to follow constitutional protocol, and, as if that weren't dangerous enough, creates its own justification for its actions hidden in the guise of constitutional assignment and public duty. Astonishingly enough as it is, this administration has been able to trick many into subscribing to their contrived overhaul of government providing for a much stronger executive in exchange for their own place and powers within government, whether it be due to a voluntary snub of statutory responsibility or a result of the deadly combination of a dumb-downed lobbyist-driven Congress, a conservative court an incompetent media, and an apathetic electorate.

That being said, I am more than ecstatic to know that Dawn Johnsen has been chosen to be in charge of directing the president when it comes to the legality of executive action. In spending 2 hours a week, for 16 weeks, discussing the development of executive power over the history of our country, the involvement of the Supreme Court and Congress in regards to their stance on, and exercising of, checks and balances, and the current overbreadth of executive authority in our country, I can comfortably say that Professor Johnsen knows her stuff and she's not afraid to use it. Not in the despotic, comic book villain-esque manner, but more in the pragmatic, think outside the box in order to solve problems without violating the box and without harming civil liberties. In casually conversing with Johnsen, she's sweet, cordial, pleasant. But you can notice there's something else there. A passion for what she does. The ability to attack.

As I said, I have no doubt that Johnsen will be great, and the perfect legal reference for Obama. A sigh of relief after being perched on the ledge and tetering back and forth between injustice and legitimacy. I just wish I would've put forth a little more effort on my seminar paper now.

Here are some links to articles written about and by Dawn Johnsen:

http://www.salon.com/opinion/greenwald/2009/01/05/olc/index.html
http://www.slate.com/blogs/blogs/convictions/archive/2008/04/03/outrage-at-the-latest-olc-torture-memo.aspx

Idiomagic

2009-01-07T13:53:00.003-05:00

I was thrown for a loop yesterday. No, I didn't wake up on the wrong side of bed. I put my underwear on inside out.

It is impossible for me to get out on the wrong side of my bed. It's not even possible for me to get out of the wrong end. In fact, I've never gotten out of bed on the wrong side. I've always refused to use this colloquial metaphor as an excuse for a bad day because I never had a day when I rolled out of bed on the right side. I always exited my bed on the left when I had access to both sides. Once it became habit I made it a conscious effort to always roll to my left, never right. I don't know if it was because I subscribed to the legitimacy behind the phrase and was scared to consciously and voluntarily allow myself to be subjected to the catalyst for a no good, very bad day, or because it just made more sense logistically to roll out of bed on the left because it provided easiest access to an escape route in case of exploding bladder or alien attack.

Yesterday, I rolled out of the right side of bed. I made pancakes. I read for a couple of hours. I made a family out of holiday marshmallows. I took a shower. Normal Nermal. As I stood there doing the "hike up your tights" dance, I noticed the seams of my underwear...then the tag of my underwear, not visible because it had flipped outside of the elastic boundary but because I have neglected to notice that I incorrectly stepped into my briefs. I had already pulled my tights up passed the point of no return so I came to the decision that I would not regress, that I would push forward. I couldn't help but wonder, in determining that I would spend my day with my underwear inside out had I consciously predestined myself to a day of doom and gloom? And, if I spent the rest of the day out of sorts and with a chip on my shoulder, and I just created a new conversational piece that could be added to the canon of colloquial idioms?

My day continued to unfold, without any traumatic occurrences or the disclosure of any skeleton's in my closet that would alter my spirits. I drank a cup of tea. I thought about making some jello pudding. I checked my cites. I ate taco bell. I complained about stupid people on the internet who think they are gracing the rest of the world with witticisms beyond the comprehension of a layperson. I read some more. I went to bed. Nothing happened that would render the use of "putting one's underwear on inside out" as a idiomatic way of expressing some revolutionary experience within one's daily life.

Today I woke up, called my mom and then called my dad asking both of them to think of all of the expressions they know of that are similes with "getting out on the wrong side of bed." I rolled out of bed, on the right side. I took a shower. I got dressed. I put on my deodorant. I put on my sweater. I decided it was too soon to put on my sweater. I removed my sweater. I noticed that I had put my shirt on inside out. Are you kidding me? Two days in a row? I have a pretty good record of dressing correctly and according to cultural standards; nearly perfect when you subtract the one time that I decided that I would try to ape the stylish inclinations of Kriss Kross in hopes that I would obtain a higher class in the social ladder of 3rd grade popularity. I continued, deciding that perhaps there was a subconscious force motivating me to erroneously apply my attire. Maybe my mind was trying to tell me that my lifestyle in itself was one big idiom that could be defined by wearing clothes inside out. I plan to put this theory to test. If this continues, maybe there will be an entry in the 5th edition of the "Dictionary of American Idioms" for "wearing your clothes inside out" as a way to define living a ridiculous yet simulateously monotonous life.

Books Galore!

2008-12-27T16:18:00.002-05:00

Now that Christmas is over and the New Year is full speed ahead, I have composed a tentative reading list for the year. Here's what I've decided to read so far:

1. "The Gospel According to Jesus Christ," by Jose Saramago: My friend Pete got this book for me last year for Christmas and I have yet to read it. He kind of yelled at me when he saw this book sitting on my crowded book shelf, so I feel like I need to knock this one off first. I'm really excited to read it though, and be exposed to a different perception of Christ, outside of the Christian realm.

2. "Chomsky on Miseducation," by Noam Chomsky: I just got this book, and I can't wait to read it. One of my major passions in life is education, and I am excited to hear Chomsky's prescription for the educational erodication in America, and what educational reforms are needed to collaborate with democracy.

3. "Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers: Prayer for Ordinary Radicals," by Shane Claiborne: Claiborne's "Irresistible Revolution," helped me to develop my own religious path and helped me realize that it's okay that I'm not following the same path that my family has. It made me realize that I'm not doomed to chill with Beelzebub for all of eternity just because I'm an advocate of social justice. But, I will say that there are a lot of topics where I disagreed with Claiborne, but that was even more encouraging to know that I could formulate my own stance on religion rather than just going along with some "radical" for the sake of being "radical." I am a firm believer in the power of prayer, and am excited to read what Claiborne has to say about the practice of prayer, and how it might help develop my personal prayer life.

4. "The Challenge of Jesus: Rediscovering Who Jesus Was and Is," by N.T. Wright: Although I don't necessarily subscribe to Wright's theories on Revelation, I think that he will have some great things to say about Jesus. And is there such a thing as reading too much about Jesus when you're a Christian? I don't think so. This book is a part of a series of Wright's all focused on the life and teachings of Jesus. I got turned on to Wright after my Pastor, Bob Whitaker, read from Wright's book, "Simply Christian." A must for any Christian.

5. "Assassination Vacation," by Sarah Vowell: I love history (especially if it deals with presidents), and I love listening to Sarah Vowell's segments on "This American Life." It kind of makes me mad that she beat me to the point in capitalizing on this market of witty, historical writing, though, but I'll still support her. This book discusses the first 3 presidential assassinations. (Can you name the 3 presidents?). As the year progresses, I hope to get to Vowell's latest book, but we'll just have to wait and see.

6. "Whatever it Takes: Geoffrey Canada’s Quest to Change Harlem and America," by Paul Tough: This book discusses social activist Geoffrey Canada's educational program, Harlem Children's Zone. I'm excited to learn more about Canada's organization. Also, Canada's educational program is admired by President-elect Obama, and is a source of inspiration for Obabma's educational plan.

7. "Me Talk Pretty One Day," by David Sedaris: I've only listened to this book on tape. Never read it. Decided I should read it. I got some of my family members Sedaris books...should be interesting to see what they think.

8. "Chronicles of Narnia," by C.S. Lewis: My interest in "Narnia" has been rekindled. When I was younger I was scared of the "Narnia" books, solely based on the creepy BBC television special. Mr. Tumlas and Mr. Beaver were bed-wetting material.

9. "The Narnian," by Alan Jacobs: Biography of C.S. Lewis that my brother got me a couple of years ago. I wasn't that interested in Lewis at the time, but (as mentioned above) I've become overwhelmingly intrigued by Lewis and his imagination and spiritual interpretations. This book should be perfect for satisfying my curiousities.

10. "Franny and Zooey," by J.D. Salinger: A favorite author, and yet I've never read this book all of the way through.

11. "Maggie Cassidy," by Jack Kerouac: Again, a favorite author, and yet I've never read this book all of the way through. And since it carries my name, I feel somewhat obligated to read it...just like I felt obligated to know the songs, "Maggie May" and "Maggie's Farm." But, I also think it will be a great book, considering it takes place during the high school years.

12. "Tender is the Night," by F. Scott Fitzgerald: Again, a favorite author. A few summers ago, I read a buttload of Fitzgerald's work, but, unbelievably, this one slipped through the cracks. I lov Fitzgerald's character development, and how he can suck you in through the traumatic lives of his characters. I love it.

13. "Scalia Dissents: Writings of the Supreme Court's Wittiest, Most Outspoken Justice," by Kevin A. Ring: My brother got me this book for Christmas. He loves Scalia. I don't. But, I will say this: Scalia is a judicial enigma. Just when you're ready to write off Scalia entirely as a complete imbecile, he goes and does something like his opinion in Morrison v. Olsen, and totally blows your minds. (discussing separation of powers issue...sorry, total nerd moment) With that, I will say I am interested in reading more of his dissents, and digging deeper into the legal psyche of Scalia.

Praise Reports

2008-12-10T16:04:00.005-05:00

On the first day of advent Bob (the pastor at the church I attend) challenged us to keep a list of praises for every day of the advent season. "I don't know what it'll do, but I do know it can't hurt," he said. I was all for this idea. One thing that I have learned in my spiritual life is that when I am praising God for the things that He has done, things start to open up in my life, things make sense. But why haven't I learned to do this all of the time rather than when a spiritual leader tells me to do so, or when I am in dire straits (or listening to Dire Straits)? Because I'm an idiot and think way too highly of myself. Probably one of the biggest problems I have in my spiritual journey is surrendering to Christ and realizing that He's in charge; not me. I've always cherished my imagination, but I've come to realize that it gets me into trouble. I create these whimsical ideals in my mind of how my life will turn out or how certain circumstances will be, and then when they don't unfold exactly like I imagined (because they're in the realm of reality) I crash. A lot of the problems I face as a result would be resolved if I would just allow God into my imagination and my mind creations. (one good thing about law school is that I can definitely see how it's making me approach life in a more rational and analytical way. I just need to learn how to balance this with my imagination and creativity and let them work together rather than make them battle it out for the role of main perspective). But when I don't visibly recognize God in my life, I just think that He's not there, or if He is there He doesn't know what He's doing. This is really cheesy, but I watched the first and second "Chronicles of Narnia" last night, and there were 2 parts that really got to me. First, when Aslan goes and sacrifices himself for Edmond and Lucy and Susan follow him to the altar. Susan says, "He must've known what he was doing." In case you don't know, there are a lot of comparisons that can be drawn between Aslan and Jesus. This is one of them. Even though we don't understand what God is doing, He knows what He's doing. When He's not there, He knows what He's doing. The second part was in the second movie when everyone is looking and waiting for Aslan to return but they have just concluded that he has abandoned the Narnians. When Lucy says that she sees Aslan, no one believes her and she doesn't go on to find him. When the others finally admit that they need Aslan and send Lucy, the only one who believed that he was there, to find him and seek his help, Lucy goes and encounters Aslan. When she asks where he's been, he simply responds, "You saw me. Why didn't you come after me?" Lucy responds, "Because I was scared. I didn't want to go alone." Whoa. Okay, that is some heavy shit when you think about it. Lucy saw Aslan, but was afraid to go to him because the others disbelieved and she didn't want to take the journey alone. I'm getting chills just thinking about the religious application of this. And no, I'm not reading Christianity into pop culture here. "Narnia" is saturated with ideas about faith and the Christian walk. These two just jumped out at me and my current situation in life.

This past Sunday, the church bulletin included a paper with all of the praises submitted by the congregation from the previous Sunday. When I looked over the compilation, I became overwhelmed and just started crying. There was something powerful about seeing all of the ways that God has provided for other people, and seeing so much positive reflection on God. I struggle because I find myself in situations where I am surrounded by criticism of my beliefs, and even though I do appreciate such outlooks because it challenges me to look into what I truly believe, it can become tiring and discouraging. But seeing so much positive reflection on Christ made me see another side of my beliefs; that God loves us all. I've hung the list up on my fridge.

I plan on sharing my personal list of praises at the end of the advent season, but, in the meantime, I figured that I would share some things that I have been praising God for lately.

1. Friends. For some reason, God has decided to bless me with such a wide variety of individuals who, for some reason, care about me. Every single one of them is unique, and I love it. My best friend, Stacie, has been there to see me be tough and let everything roll off my shoulders, and then turn around and start bawling my eyes out because I can't handle it anymore. When I need it, they make me laugh. They put up with all of my bathroom talk. Last week, my friend Becky made me laugh in talking about the walk through of her new house. "The guy that lives there now is definitely a larper. I turned the corner and there was a big taxidermy wolf in one of the rooms and there were battle axes hanging over his bed. I think it's inevitable that there will be a residue of larping when I move in." My friend Pete can make me laugh more than anyone I've ever met. He doesn't even have to do anything and I start cracking up. We've recently crossed over into feeling comfortable enough in our friendship to discuss bowel movements (and anyone who knows me knows that I love talking about bowel movements). Pete and I were gchatting while I was binging on a chipotle burrito:

me: okay
got the burrito
it is paaaaacked

Peter: pack it in your gullet

me: i do not want to take part in the bowel movement that is about to follow after i gluttonously partake of this burrito, but i guess i have no choice

Peter: dude that thing is like the size of a medium cat
and you are gonna poop it out
i pray to god that you didn't get a bag of flaming hot cheetos with it, or you will be experiencing what sailors call "the red tide" or, "red skelton dropping by"

Peter: "watching some red dwarf"

2. Family. My family and I are VERY different, but I love them all more than anything else in my life. My dad told me that I had to limit my time with my nephew because he's afraid I might influence him too much; we're that different. I honestly think that the only reason why we're so different is that they are closet weirdos/dorks, whereas I'm right out in the open about my weirdness and dorkdom. When i was a kid I used to talk to the Mrs. Butterworth's syrup bottle. Very precocious, afternoon tea conversations. Then I would get very angry at her for not responding to me and I'd storm off from the breakfast bar. The next morning, I'd come back and go through the whole routine again. One day last year, when I was going through a rough time at school, my brother Anthony sent me a text message with a picture of a Mrs. Butterworth bottle and a caption which read, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you when you were a kid." While I was sitting here composing this blog, my other brother Andrew sent me a text message which said, "On Christmas will you play battleship? I've been wanting to play it for some time but no takers." He knew I would accept the invitation. That's the thing about Andrew and me. We're never too cool for battleship.

The newest family member, my nephew, does nothing but make me happy. When I came back to Ft. Wayne for Thanksgiving, I went straight to my brother and sister-in-law's house to see Dominic. The minute I saw him, he smiled really big, like he remembered me. I got really choked up. It was one of the best feelings I've ever experienced in my life. He just brings so much joy to my life. I find my mind wandering to thoughts about him, and how excited I am to get back up to Ft. Wayne just to hold him and watch him stare at his little penguin toy with such curiousity. Here he is:

I can honestly say that in vocalizing and recognizing the wonderful things that God has done for me, I have experienced a joy that has been missing, a clarity of mind, and a reassurance that everything's going to work out for good, and I couldn't be happier.

Gchats between nerdy law students

2008-11-13T14:21:00.002-05:00

My good friend Pete and I were gchatting today while I was trying to do research & he was sitting in his Federal Criminal Law class & we were both not actually working on the task at hand when we created this incredibly nerdy dialogue. I laughed out loud multiple times in a public place while Pete was unable to keep a poker face in class. The first part of the conversation dealt with a deal devised between Pete and I where I would make a huge bowl of frosting and he would have to take it to his federal crim law course and eat the whole bowl with a big spatula during class. Just shovel & slop it into his mouth. This is more of an "inside joke" between Pete & I (and Jim).

But then the conversation shifted into a little gchat gem. Pete mentioned how his professor's wedding ring looked like a super bowl ring. I said that it would be funny if it were a SCOTUS (Supreme Court Of The United States) ring that was given to him on account of deciding a landmark case. From there, nerdy legal hilarity ensued. This might not be funny to you, but it sure was funny to me!

Peter: that is ridiculous

bradley's wedding ring looks like a superbowl ring

1:41 PM varsity marriage squad

me: haha!!

1:43 PM are you sure it's not a superbowl ring? i bet it's a SCOTUS ring

Peter: haha

1:44 PM jim said rehnquist probably gave it to him

i think it's his birthstone

me: haha

1:47 PM what do you think a SCOTUS ring woudl say? i mean, if he clerked during a landmark case i bet they would make a ring similar to a super bowl ring, but w/ the case on it

like, ROE V. WADE CHAMPIONS

1:48 PM Peter: haha!

1:49 PM it would be awesome if the whole trying of the case was like a football game

with all the clerks drinking gatorade

and dumping the cooler of gatorade in stevens' face as soon as he finishes reading the opinion

1:50 PM me: hahaha!!!

Peter: everybody slapping each others' asses as they walk by and pushing each other's heads and stuff

1:51 PM me: haha

1:52 PM can you imagine the post game interviews?

w/ Queen's "we are the champions" playing

1:54 PM Peter: "i really think that for stevens, especially at his age, it was a matter of keeping his intensity level high, and he delivered. he was out there the whole case, just consistently bringing home argument after argument. it goes to show you how much he wanted it, and he did it baby, we did it, WOOOOOO!"

1:55 PM -Clarence Thomas

9 minutes

2:04 PM Peter: "I have just one word for you about what this case was all about, and that is DEFENSE, baby, because if there is one thing that Roe and her team can do, it is put memos on the desk, time and time again. We won today because we didn't back down under that pressure, we kept our intensity level high, and we wanted it, baby, WOOOO! WOOO! WOOOO!"

-Wade

2:05 PM me: wait...i have to catch up

2:06 PM HAHAHA!!

2:07 PM "I'll tell you one thing that I know is true. There would be no way that we could pull out this W if it weren't for you, the fans, filing your amicus briefs. This one's for you!"

-Wade

Peter: dude i am having a poker face MELTDOWN right now

i sit in the front row in this class

I Have a Hankering, not a Hankie

2008-11-12T10:01:00.003-05:00

I rarely/hardly ever want anything. Lately I've harbored that rare feeling that hardly ever occurs where I actually want something. I used to act like everyday I was writing/trying out for/starring in a film adaptation of a musical. I want to act like that again. It was really fun.

Things of Excitement

2008-11-03T17:48:00.003-05:00

I woke up on Sunday morning have no forewarning that Daylight Savings had taken place. It was very quiet. I stumbled around in my morning stupor, which is very similar to the pleasant awakening that Snow White experienced, and made my way to the bathroom to get ready for church. Upon opening the door to the bathroom and stepping out into the kitchen while putting my glasses on for the first time all day, sort of rubbing my eyes, I noticed the daisy clock hanging on the wall set at 9:00. But my alarm had been set for 8:00? What happened while I was sleeping? Even though it was an hour, it felt like I was in "Back to the Future," for lack of a better analogy. I guess this is just part of the excitement of being a Hoosier & a newbie to the Daylight Savings Club.

Two people over the last week have told me they saw me on the tv. Looks like I'm going to have to deduct 5 more seconds from my time of pending fame. Rats. It is exciting to be seen on CATS though. I think that my soundbite on elections & voting methods is just the beginning.

I have formulated my proposed schedule for next semester. Here are the course titles:

State & Local Government Law
Race, Law, & American Society
Constitutional Law Colloquium: The "Original" Culture Wars
Law of Democracy: Voting Rights
Seminar in Race, Law, and Education

I'm really glad to get out of international law courses. I think these courses are a bit more tailored to my interests, so I'm really excited. I'm particularly excited about my seminar in race, law & education, since I have now made up my mind that I am going to focus on education law and become a high school teacher. Alright!

Tomorrow is election day. I look forward to this day more than any other...except for maybe Groundhog Day. But the fact that it only comes every four years makes it a rare occassion that doesn't lose its luster. I'm printing off my map of the US, writing down the number of electoral votes per state, and getting my blue & red crayons ready. I think the one part that I'm looking forward to the most is Larry King. If any of you caught his performance in the 2004 presidential election, you know what I'm talking about. You could tell he was up way past his bedtime. He turned into this extremely curmudgeonly election day Scrooge, and it was charming. I fell in love with him that night. I just wanted to help him put on his slippers, floor length stocking cap, and one of those big t-shirt night gowns that men used to wear. I wanted to tuck him in and read him "The Little Engine that Could," as he forgot all about the controversy in Ohio and starting snoring in a "mee mee meee" manner. It's things like this that remind me of why I love politics and law and government. I'm so excited! (Pointer Sisters plays in the background as I dance around the law library and everyone stares)

Level 7 Elf Ranger

2008-10-21T21:50:00.004-04:00

It's official. I'm going to Hell. I have been committing many tiny sins while trying to break out of the full nelson put on me by a giant orc while traveling through the shadow lands of the fallen saints. I have transformed from a law student to an ambitious level 7 elf ranger dealing in dungeons and dragons.

Anyone that had an evangelical upbringing knows that dungeons & dragons is completely off limits. For the past year a friend of mine has tried to get me to play D&D, but I have refused because of the fear that I will go to turn to a pillar of salt upon immediate contact with any dice with more than 6 sides. But about 2 weeks ago, when I was swimming in tetris pieces, I was introduced to a new facebook application, "Dungeons & Dragons: Tiny Adventures." My friend would read aloud the happenings of his encounters, and I found myself intrigued by the stories charting his journey to become a level 10 drow ranger. I wanted to go on these adventures, or at least create a character that could have a little excitement in her life. On am impulse, I threw away an entire sunday school's education on the damning nature of D&D and joined the ranks of all the others marking their path to the underworld, and I was loving every second of it.

While on my fall break and hanging out with my family, my mom and best friend noticed on my computer screen that I had a tab open to my D&D adventure. My best friend was ashamed to have such a nerdy friend, and my mom was worried that I was on going to become demon possessed. She told me this story about how her cousins used to play D&D and are terminally damaged because of it. She never really explained what was wrong with them, except that they were weird. Then, in the midst of my attempts to explain the harmless nature of this online game, my mom pulled a major guilt card, "Maggie, what is your nephew going to think of his aunt that plays D&D? You don't want him to know you play dungeons & dragons." Low blow.

I guess I didn't feel as bad about playing the facebook version because you literally do nothing. You choose a character, choose an adventure, then click "update results" whenever it's convenient. Then, if you want to, you can read what happened to you in that stage of the journey. It tells you what you rolled, even though you were nowhere near any type of rolling numerical device. It's great. And, you help your other friends when they're in need. I've healed many of my friends numerous times, or given them that extra bit of encouragement they've needed in order to finish their adventure. Best of all, it has given me a network of *real* friends that also play tiny adventures. We just laugh and laugh and laugh.

So, I guess I'm on my own adventure to Hell. But maybe God will take it easy on me and only send me to a tiny Hell.

To My Fellow Hoosiers & To My Fellow Candidates for Carpal Tunnel

2008-10-13T15:44:00.002-04:00

Okay, so there are quite a few notifications to Indiana residents about the option to vote early. If you have the opportunity, you should definitely take advantage of this. Here's the deal. Do you all remember that big deal in Florida in the 2000 election that ended in a Supreme Court decision ultimately deciding who our president was? And, do you remember how in 2004 our Buckeye neighbors were still an uncalled state until about noon the next day after election day? I'm sure you all have been paying close attention to the election & the polls, but Indiana is being considered a "battleground state" in this election cycle for the first time since history can remember. I think the last time Indiana was even close to possibly being a blue state on that electoral map was when Kennedy was running for election, and even then it wasn't a 6% margin of difference (as I last saw for the Indiana electorate). I'm not saying that will necessarily happen here in our Hoosier state, but I think it's better to be safe than sorry. So, it would be better to get your vote in now, counted, and not discredited come election day. Security is key. Also, it's just more convenient to go on any day other than election day. The polls are a messy room. Oh, and congratulations for being at the forefront of the political campaigning. Maybe next presidential election we'll get the candidate commercials broadcast here!

Now, I think I'm getting carpal tunnel in my right hand. Since I'm experiencing some of the warning signs, I figured I would share some of the activities I partake in so that you might be proactive in your own fight against carpal tunnel. So, if you do any of the following, please do them in moderation!

1. crochet
2. typing really fast on a computer
3. playing lots of tetris
4. playing piano/keyboards
5. holding your pen & hi-liter strategically with the same hand so that you can easily switch off between the two while you're reading
6. playing lots of text twirl & scramble
7. snapping on my way to a rumble with the sharks

blast from the past

2008-10-10T11:24:00.002-04:00

I wrote this little ditty around this time last year. I read it again the other day & I thought that maybe I would just post it. I have a lot of things that I've been wanting to post but I haven't gotten around to actually sitting down & putting them in writing. So, until I have the time to provide new material I'll just throw up some old stuff. Also, I just scored an Alaska quarter. It's really cool. It has a big bear pawing a salmon or something. It's amazing. I think it will be a good accessory for my Sarah Palin Halloween costume.

As we sat and watched the fireworks I was hoping that you would look over at me and see the wonder in my face and be so enraptured by my childish outlook on life and then I would feel your eyes staring into my soul looking over the charts and documents to make sure I wasn’t just tricking you and that I was actually what you were looking for and I would turn to see what was going on and we would finally confront what we were too scared to admit, but when my ploy to get you to confess your crime failed I retreated into myself and tried to act like I didn’t care, and got up and left and said I wanted ice cream like I was a little kid who should be rewarded by her parents because she did something spectacular and no one gave her credit and her parents could feel her pain and dejection so they wanted to comfort her and take away her sorrow, until you took my hand when I slugged you in the back in a jesting manner and wouldn’t let go and I was caught off guard and I was transported from that steamy 4th of July night surrounded by kids with sparklers moving in slow-mo being watched by their parents digging through the cooler for more beer to the seasons to come where you would still be holding my hand while it rained golden and sapphire leaves from the sky and we were wearing mittens, which we must struggle to try and link our fingers through the mass of wool gathering our fingers together, and scarves and dressed as though we were Indian corn and strangers walked by with their dogs and we were still holding hands, unashamedly. But then I got carried away and wanted more and started swinging our hands as though you were my teddy bear and not my future love and you pulled away because you felt it, and I felt it, and we rode back in silence because we were too afraid to confront our reality and the possibility that our lives might actually be good because we were so complacent with our misery and reluctant to trade it in because we wouldn’t know how to live happily. And now we stand across the street from one another waiting for the pedestrian signal to give us our cue to go forth on our paths empty-handed, bundled up, and staring at each other heading in the exact same direction but not wanting to recognize the fact that we would be perfect together. We were so damn independent; so fucking selfish. Why do we feel that we will never find our soul mates? Why do we act as though we were the only creatures not meant to have a soul mate when we believe so much in the idea and concept of the meeting of the souls, and the truth is the two people who feel as though their destiny didn’t leave room for a counterpart are actually made for each other? And so we go on portraying to the world that we’re happy as we are and that nothing will get in the way of us achieving our dreams and fulfilling our destinies and all of that cliché shit that you’re fed as constructing the meaning of life from 3rd grade on when they start breeding you to be young professionals and give you address books so that you can start networking, and we never let anyone know that what we say are our dreams are really just a ploy to let others think you’re better than them and that you’re a strong person when all I really want is for you to hold me and to admit that you miss me and to call me out when I’ve made up a word on the scrabble board and tried to get away with it and to actually support that look that you have in your eye every time I catch you looking at me when you think I’m not paying attention and when I look back and we’re caught in each other’s venus flytraps and we just sort of give in after being suffocated because the sensation of dying feels better than the pain of denial or even worse acceptance.

Celebrity-a-Likes

2008-09-16T22:03:00.002-04:00

It has come to my attention that there are a lot of faculty members at the law school that could pass as celebrities, not just in looks, but in sounds. You don't really hear of celebrity sound-a-likes very often, so it was quite the ordeal when I realized that I had at least 2 celebrity sound-a-likes teaching me the law of this fine nation.

While lecturing on hate speech in Constitutional Law, I noticed that my professor had a certain twang about his voice that sounded very familiar, like the voice of a character that was often a part of my Thursday night television line up back in my youth. Celebrity Sound-a-Like: Larry David as George Steinbrenner on "Seinfeld."

Later that night, I headed off to my legal professions class to spend the next 2 hours listening to a man who sounds like Harold Ramis, more commonly known as Dr. Egon Spengler from "Ghostbusters," but he doesn't sound like the Harold Ramis of "Ghostbusters;" he sounds more like the older, portlier Harold Ramis that makes a cameo in "As Good as it Gets." Interestingly enough, there are similarities in appearance to the more rotund Ramis & my legal professions professor as well, but the voice is what's more astonishing.

I don't know what it is about IU school of law & its propensity towards hiring individuals that resemble public figures. Perhaps it draws in more prospective students. Since I get to enjoy these celebrity look & sound-a-likes every day, I figured I would share the wealth. But it's not going to come that easy! Here's a little game. Below you will find a picture of an IU law professor next to a picture of an identifiable celebrity/public figure. See if you can figure out which one is the professor & which one is the public figure. Be careful! It gets tricky! (I wanted to post more, but blogger wouldn't let me...)

Surreality

2008-09-14T20:47:00.002-04:00

About a week ago I was hanging out with my friend Megan, sharing our list of favorite blogs and whatnot when we were struck with longing taste buds and growling stomachs. Luckily, Bloomingfood's was right around the corner with friendly faces and curried lentils. We leashed up Megan's dog and brought her along for the trip. Scout the dog was oh so happy to be outside of the apartment in construction, and head back to the co-op for round 2 that day. We decided that we might as well sit outside and enjoy the scenery while we ate, so Megan brought Scout over so that she could see us and feel a bit more connected, regardless of the communication barrier which exists between humans and dogs. Sounds like a pretty nice afternoon meal, right? It's amazing how quickly things can happen. I am still a bit stunned by this whole experience. A bit too surreal, and some top of the line comedic material that Larry David would love to get his hands on.

Scout started barking. Barking and barking. I didn't think anything of it, probably because my hunger was blocking any of my sense and not allowing them to function properly. We just talked right over her. But apparently others didn't have the same patience that Megan and I had.

Scout: "Woof! Woof!"
Megan: "Scout!"
Old Lady with menonite hair (bitchily): "Why don't you just tie the dog up next to you!"

"Oh, okay. Sorry," replied Megan. Scout soon joined us, up close and personal, while we ate. I awkwardly attempted to keep conversation going after the confrontation, but Megan seemed a bit distracted and aloof as a result. I didn't know what to do. I felt weird even taking bites of my salad.

"I think we should leave," Megan finally said.
"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure," I responded, a bit relieved thinking that maybe once we started moving and getting blood pumping it would be so tense. I placed my fork in the dirty dish tray and off we went. After we turned the corner and were no longer in site of the other dining patrons, Megan unveiled the source of tension.

"So, that woman that yelled at me is my gynecologist."

What an odd run in. Your gynecologist lecturing you on how to deal with behavioral issues of your dog. Gynecologists should stick to cervixes. Especially when they're jerks in real life.

We're walking and talking about this lady parts doctor when I see my neighbor, Wyatt, with his son's dog, trying to get into a car parked on 7th street.

(Quick profile summary: Wyatt. Looks exactly like one would expect a "Wyatt" to look. Listens to classic rock post-loud clanking weight work out which shakes the picture frames in my apartment. Never listens to music while he works out. Smokes. Heard him & his son fighting around Christmastime about Wyatt's inability to be "grown up," which is why all of his relationships fail. Uses a fleece Indianapolis Colts blanket for a curtain. Enjoys making hamburgers, the aroma of which floods my apartment and provides me with a pleasant surprise when I come home from school late in the evening and smell ground beef seeping through my vents.)

I usually try to avoid Wyatt as much as possible because it's always an awkward conversation. Once I spotted him, I started thinking about how I would approach this situation. While Megan continued to vent about the mean gyno I began to play out in my mind different strategies on how to deal with the ever-approaching Wyatt encounter. "I could just talk the whole time that we walk by him & act like I just don't even see him because I have something really important that I'm saying"...Okay, if he doesn't look up I won't say hello; if he does then I'll ask him how he is, but I won't stop walking. It'll be a brief, mobile exchange. Darnit, he looked up."

"Hey Wyatt, how are ya?"
"Well hey, I'm do-"

Wyatt's dog was not on a leash. While I initiated the conversation I thought, oh, these dogs will probably smell each other and we'll have to stop for them to be friends for a few seconds. That'll just make things even more awkward. But instead, cordial sniffs were traded in for vicious fangs. Wyatt's dog lunged at Scout and attacked her. Megan freaked out. Wyatt yelled at his dog. I stood there, wondering how I didn't come up with a plan of action for "dog fight." But no, that was not the end of it.

Megan, full of frustration from the previous incident with Dr. Rude snapped at Wyatt.

"Why don't you keep your dog on a leash?!"
"Well, I normally DO keep my dog on a leash, but I had things to do and I couldn't put her on a leash!"
"Well, it's inconsiderate to me, my dog, other people, and your dog to not have a leash on her!"
(Maggie, stage right, slowly trying to inch away from both parties with a certain cringe on face)
"Yeah, well what's inconsiderate is not picking up your dog shit and leaving it out in other people's yards!"
(Maggie, a little further up on stage right, wondering what the heck kind of comeback that is?)
"I DO pick up my dog shit!" (point, Megan)
"Yeaaaah, well fuck you!"
"No, fuck you!"

We started towards the crosswalk. I didn't know if I should say goodbye to Wyatt. In a 12 inch voice, I leaned over to Megan and said, "That was my neighbor, Wyatt, the one I was telling you about."

Warning: This Blog Full of Emotional Ranting

2008-09-07T14:05:00.002-04:00

I don't normally like to use my blog as a diary of sorts, but I figure if there's something that's so overpowering occurring in my life, then I have justification for writing about it.

I think I've cried more over the past 7 days than I have in my entire life. This morning, I was plagued with not wanting to get up and go to church. When I got to church, my eyes wouldn't stop welling up with tears, and my throat burned so badly I couldn't sing. I just kept feeling the urge to leave because I didn't want to be seen crying, but something kept me there. Bob (the pastor) started a series on the challenges of faith in following an unseen God. A flood of convicting thoughts rushed my brain.

Something that I've been struggling with over the past year or so is the idea that I can control what's happening and have no need to rely on God. We're fed to believe that we can direct our lives; that we're supposed to be suspicious of things in life and we can and should predict what will happen next so that we stay in complete control and everything remains safe. I figure, hey, I can handle this. But just when I get comfortable with me being the director of my life, everything blows up in my face. Why? Because I didn't trust God. I didn't need Him; everything was great without His contributions. Then what does He do? He humbles me hardcore. I come running back to Him, urging for Him to intervene. Why can't I just learn my lesson and admit that in reality I am not competent to face these hardships alone? Deep down I know that, but I constantly deny God His role in my life.

And the thing is, when I do come begging, admitting that I don't know what to do, He steps in and takes on His role. He was just sitting there waiting for me to acknowledge Him. I can't help but think "I don't deserve Him." After what I've done, how I've treated Him, I don't deserve God's intervention. Why on earth would He be willing to come back after my repeat offenses against Him? I guess I am feeling guilty because I am realizing what it feels like to be treated the way I have treated God over the past year. He wants to be there; He wants to help me; He wants to care for me; but I resist, believing that I can do it on my own. How painful this must be for Him to constantly be rejected when He just wants to give me the best that He has to offer. And He doesn't begrudgingly intervene. He hops off the bench, embracing the challenge of cleaning up the mess I've made. And once again, I am truly humbled.

I said the other night that I felt like I was not struggling with my faith in Christ, but my reliance on Christ. Today's sermon helped me realize that when I'm not relying on God I'm not exercising faith in Him. The two are inseparable. Faith is complete reliance and belief that even though I might not see, hear, or feel God in my life, He is still a force that needs to be recognized and relied upon. Because, how can you rely on someone in whom you don't have faith?

The sermon closed by posing a few questions to think about in application to our own lives. The one that struck me the most was "Why do we trust ourselves, but don't trust in God?" My answer is that I'm so stuck within selfish and sensory physical boundaries that I'm not willing to step outside of myself to recognize that an unseen force far beyond my comprehension in terms of grace and mercy and love could possibly exist. I'm not willing to just leave my life in the hands of something I've never tangibly experienced because I need the security of limiting my life's potential to the common, convenient, and comfortable. What's sad about this is if I would be willing to just have complete faith in Christ's command then my life would be nothing less than far beyond what I could have ever imagined for myself. I'm limiting myself by not relying on God. My hope is to be less of the "Doubting Thomas" type and more of the "Father Abraham." I want to go to my grave having the strongest faith that the unfulfilled with be fulfilled (even if I don't get to see it). You know, you think you have this shit all figured out...

I Dream of Swayze

2008-09-06T11:52:00.004-04:00

I usually try to find something good in everything out there. There are a few things that, no matter how much I try, I just can't beyond pure hatred. The list is rather short, but in a way the brevity of the "hate list" provides for intense levels of disdain for the particular items.

Things I hate:
1. Brussel Sprouts
2. When people have a "bubble" in their throat (some phlegm gets caught, forming a bubble that changes the individual's speaking voice, making it more muted & Kermitish)
3. The words "Yeast" and "Moist"
4. Dinosaurs (love to hate them)
5. Geese
6. Patrick Swayze
7. Feet

This post is going to focus on #6, Mr. Swayze. I don't know what it is about Pat, I just really don't like him. I think a major influence on my opinion was the "Chippendale's" skit on SNL with Chris Farley. He was legitimately trying to be sexy, regardless of the fact that he didn't have to put forth huge amounts of effort next to Farley's ingenious performance of unsexiness. It was almost as if he was purposefully trying to make Farley look even worse, while exalting his own flawless muscular structure. He just doesn't seem to have a sense of humor. Also, I really don't see him as a fantastic actor. Sure, "Dirty Dancing" is a cinematic classic, but throughout my years I have always been frustrated with Johnny, thinking he was just flat out annoying and not in the least attractive.

The problem is that my subconscious has cursed me with 2 Swayze dreams within the past 3 weeks. These weren't any normal dreams; Swayze didn't just make a cameo but was front and center. He was a love interest. Dream one: I am teaching at my old middle school. I have my hair in long, braided pig tails and I go down these stairs to an area that looks like a pool and a New York subway. I stand down there for a second, then start to walk back up the stairs in a crowd of people. While jammed amidst strangers, someone starts commenting on my pigtails and sort of hitting on me. It turns out that it's Patrick Swayze. I am completely grossed out and ignore him. I walk faster towards my destination. When I get there, Barbara Bush is at a circulation desk in my old middle school gymnasium. We start talking about very philosophical topics, and Patrick Swayze tries to interject some words in the conversation in order to impress me, but what he says is not very intelligent. Barbara and I just look at him with blank stares. He feels a bit dumb and walks away. Barbara gives me advice that he's no good.

Dream two: I have a sister. We're living in a doll house, meaning there is no 4th wall. My sister and I are both in dating relationships. I am dating Patrick Swayze, she is dating this guy that I really this is an awesome dude. She's actually in love with Patrick, but I somehow convince the cool dude to ask my sister to marry him because I really want him in the family. After he proposes and she says yes, I announce that I am going to break up with Patrick because he's just a little too stupid. My sister becomes irate because she is now trapped in a relationship with someone that she doesn't want to marry when she actually wanted to be with her sister's boyfriend, or should I say ex-boyfriend. I feel like conscious me was trying to tell the character's in subconscious me's play that they should all just switch and be happy. I don't think subconscious me was happy with the plot suggestion.

They're not the greatest dreams, but they still made an impression on me. Why is Patrick Swayze making repeat appearances in my dreams? Not only that, why are they romantic repeat appearances? Usually you can connect the dots between things going on in your actual life with the things that appear in your dreams. There is a clear synapse between reality and subreality. But here, there is just no reason for it. And especially, there is no reason for it twice.

Have it Your Way

2008-09-01T12:00:00.004-04:00

Earlier this summer I was strolling down the sidewalk when I saw the remnants of a drunken hunger raid carelessly discarded approximately ten future paces in front of my path. I approached and quickly assessed the sample. Half eaten; two buns, which were no longer stacked on top of one another but were "open" so that one could see the contents held within; an all-beef patty, significant smaller than its bun case, and covered by a slice of cheese that initially tried to melt but did not succeed; wilted pickles; and little onions diced into tiny cubes that left an imprint on the underachieving cheese. Based on the evidence, I was able to conclude that this was a cheeseburger from the well-known fast food chain, "McDonald's."

As I proceeded on my way, I continued to think about this hamburger. I became intrigued by the thought that I could pinpoint the source of a hamburger, an all-American delight, simply by its structure and accessories. The diced, cubed onions instantly caused a light to go off in my head that this was a McDonald's burger. No doubt about it. No other restaurant dices their onions. Now, let's switch things up a bit. What if the hamburger on the street had a tomato slice instead of ketchup, a dab of mayonnaise, onion slices, and a SQUARE meat patty? Or, that there was an interesting odor that accompanied the burger, like it was FLAME-BROILED? How about if the hamburger was not a standard-sized hamburger, but very small. Almost as though you could fit it in your pocket And there wasn't just one of these burgers, there were about seven. What if, when I walked by the hamburger, I instantly got diarrhea just from looking at it? (see answers below)

Is this something that I should be proud of? That I can identify a hamburger on the street, sans signifying wrapper? Should any of us be proud of that?

On another hamburger note, I left the sidewalk burger puzzled as to how it got to that particular location in town. For those of you that know Bloomington, this hamburger was on 6th street, right in front of Vintage Phoenix Comics. There is no McDonald's anywhere remotely close to that location. I can only think of 3 McDonald's in Bloomington as I sit here, and I'm sure that I could only think of 3 McDonald's on that particular day as well. One, on North Walnut as you're heading out of town, right by the bypass. Two, across from College Mall. Three, on the west side, across from the movie theater and next to the Scottish Inn. None of these are within drunken sidewalk distance. I'm completely baffled.

Answers to fast food burger quiz:
1. Wendy's
2. Burger King
3. White Castle
4. Rally's

Have if Your Way

2008-09-01T12:00:00.001-04:00

legal gift registry

2008-08-13T14:51:00.004-04:00

As the summer winds down and wedding season starts to dwindle, I've been taking some time to reflect. As the number of my single friends & family members is slowly being outnumbered by the married, and as I continue to remain in the ranks of the single, I've seen my attitudes towards weddings & all that comes along with them evolve. The biggest problem I've had with weddings has been the gift registry. Don't get me wrong, I think that it's a great invention for both guests & the married party, but I found myself struggling to cough up money & invest in the lives of my loved ones or having a break down in Target as I tried to decide whether I should get the dishes or the sconce. Not to be a doomsday thinker, but with the average number of divorces as high as it is, it's hard for me to not think that my gift will just cause frustration rather than joy as the two fight over who should get the tea kettle in the settlement.

Now, like I said, as I am slowly becoming the minority in my group of friends and am embarking on my life long journey as the crazy cat lady that just loves her work too much/her students are her children/etc. as my chances of getting married continue to slim down, I think that I should get some gifts. I feel that I am justified in this request because, if you think about it, what is the percentage of this population that graduates law school & gets a j.d. versus the percentage of this population that gets married? It's much rarer to come across someone who achieves higher education than someone who gets married. And really, how many of those who do get married end up getting divorced & married again? My j.d. will last a lifetime once I achieve it. I can decide not to use the j.d., but that doesn't mean that I lose it. I'll still have it. Forever. I think that deserves a present.

When people get REmarried they're most likely going to expect more gifts. I can only get my j.d. once. That means that I'm only expecting you all to get me a present on one occasion, and one only. That benefits you more so that if you have friends that get divorced & remarried.

I like to think of myself as a pretty kind person. Even though I've made it clear that I do not want to be an attorney at a firm, that does not mean that I have not received the same education as those individuals. This also means that I will be capable of helping you all with your legal problems (and who doesn't have legal problems). This will all be pro bono work. I think the least that you could do is to perhaps pay it forward in the form of a kitchen-aid before you even receive my free legal services. Also, let's consider my current state of debt. It's only going to get worse. I'm a single woman trying to get started in this world. At least if you're married there's someone else to help you out. I'm all alone out here, and I will most likely have to use my soul as collateral. Perhaps I'm being a bit elitist here, but I don't know why someone would not want to invest in a bright young woman's future. How bout it, folks?

That being said, I have recently created a "wish list" at skymall.com. If you'd like to take a peak, you're more than welcome. I hope you don't take this the wrong way. I'm just saying, how is receiving a doctorate not as big of a milestone as getting married? I think I have just cause to create a registry just for myself, and if Target tries to say that I have to have 2 people in order to create a registry I'll just sue them.

return to blogging & tales of the co-op

2008-07-20T15:40:00.003-04:00

It has been brought to my attention that I have not posted a blog since May. Some have rubbed this in my face by bragging that they are "winning the blog post race." I can't really pinpoint any particular reason as to why I have not been posting blogs other than the fact that I just feel "blah." I couldn't find any other word that more accurately describes my current state of affairs than "blah." I love to write. Any kind of writing, except poetry. That's not my thing...that's Dave Segedy's thing. But I haven't felt any desirous need to write or when I do write I'm not passionate about it. I guess that's what they would call "writer's block," but I think what I'm suffering from is "life block." This happens to me quite a bit and I pop out of it like Punxsutawney Phil on February 2nd, but it's taking a bit longer than usual this time around.

Anyways, a friend told me that I should start writing again regardless of how I feel when I'm writing or how I feel about what I'm writing just to force myself to get back with the program, so that's what I'm going to try and do. Also, I have to write another blog where I am representing other ladies and if I do poorly there's no telling what they'll do.

So, I work at Bloomingfood's every once in a while when they're in a cooperative crunch and need someone to scan multiple fair trade items and spew out PLU numbers like a Russian Mathematician. While working yesterday, I had a customer come through my line purchasing a big jug of strawberry milk yogurt. I went through my usual shpeal.

"Do you have a member number?"
"Nope, but I'm a very old man. Does that get me anywhere?"
"Sure does. You get a 5% discount on your purchase, all day, every day."

The man didn't appear to care about the 5% discount. He was on a mission. A mission to use a "good line" or so he thought. It was as though he had been waiting his whole life to become an elderly man so that he could use such a "joke."

"They say you are whatcha eat," he said, hardly able to contain himself.
"Uhh, I'm sorry?" I responded, wondering where this came from & where he was going with it.
"Ya'are whatcha eat. That's what they always say. What'd I eat to get to be a very old man?" He responded to my puzzled tone & bewildered expression, disappointed that I didn't feed into his punchline by initially responding, "Well, what'd you eat to get to be very old?"

I stuck to my routine, even though I was a bit distracted by my mind trying to figure out what in the world this all meant.
"Here's your receipt, sir," leaving in the dust anything involving colloquial aphorisms.
"Thank ya very much."
"Oh, you're welcome."

What does that mean? What did I eat to become a very old man? A friend suggested that perhaps he ate a very old man. That makes the most sense, and if you look at it literally, and even figuratively, that might be the only way that it makes sense. When I think about this aphorism, I think that it tries to express something more about the individual's personality. You see someone eating an apple, you think, "Oh, they must be sweet, because an apple's sweet & they say you are what you eat!" Or, "Wait, he eats unsweetened chocolate? That's so bitter! He must be resentful about something because you know what they say...you are what you eat!" But this man took the phrase and applied to a whole new characteristic realm. Does that mean that if you eat old stale bread or drink expired orange juice that you will become old? Doesn't everyone become old regardless of what one might consume? I'm still confused.

To make this customer/employee exchange even more of a labyrinth, the manager of cheeses & other products was behind me filling out some forms. He mistook the man to be saying "dirty" instead of "very" old man, which would alter things immensely.

"I'm a dirty old man, does that get me anywhere?"
"They say you are whatcha eat, so what'd I eat to become a dirty old man?"

Mike turned around right after I said, "you're welcome" to the "dirty" old man and in a fit of disgust said, "Yea, you're welcome...to not have to continue to ring up his or anyone else's groceries if they every say something like that to you again. And I'm serious."

At first I giggled, because that is my initial reaction to anything in life. But then I became even more confused because I didn't understand why Mike was so upset about the man proposing that he ate an old man or some old food product to become old, since you are what you eat. I thought about clearing things up so that Mike wouldn't be so worked up, but I think he soon forgot about it so I just let it go. I still had to figure out what in the world just happened with the customer now that I figured out why Mike was so pissed.

This experience got me thinking about another good grocery moment that I had about 2 weeks ago. It was Customer Appreciation Day and the store was a maniacal mess of hipsters, heath-conscious, and herbal zealots all trying to make a purchase of $50 or more in order to get a free light bulb.* I was a scanning fool with my trusty bag man Scott by my side. He was amazing. Anyways, this elderly woman comes up to my register and very sweetly & ever so gently looked at me, reached her hand out to hold mine and calmy said, "You're out of time."

"What?!" I responded, flabbergasted that the Grim Reaper manifested itself in the form of a kindly senior citizen supporting her local growers guild. I thought to myself, why on earth would God choose today, of all days, to take me home? It's Customer Appreciation Day! Doesn't he see how insanely busy it is? What will they do without me? Then I thought, waaaait a minute missy, if anyone's out of time it's you. Look at you, you're old. I've got nothin' but time, ya hear?

"THYME," she said slowly & loudly as though how she was speaking it would substitute for spelling it. "Like the spice."

"Ohhhh, we're out of THYME. I get it."

*did you know that those light bulbs that aren't supposed to use up as much energy & are better for the environment contain mercury? I had no idea. So be careful when you dispose of them, even though that will probably be in 9 years since that is their estimated life span, and you (and I) will probably forget about taking cautionary discretion.

Live in the Now

2008-05-17T21:13:00.003-04:00

It seems that there is a trend of human fascination in the future. I think that goes along with being intrigued by the unknown, or really the unknowable. In elementary school there always seems to be some assignment where you have to complete the thought of "In the future ___." It wasn't necessarily a test of your knowledge of the state of the world but usually a test of your imagination. The future is an outlet for the creative mind. The future is a dream world, with world peace, tube portals that suck you up & transport you from Chicago to Amsterdam in 1 minute with no delays, humans talk to their animal co-workers, and the earth is a desolate ghost town in the universe.

Perhaps the fact that the future is so malleable is the reason why creative institutions obsess over the concept and exaggerate its existence. "The Jetsons," "Back to the Future," and other movies, books, and tv shows all seem to envision the future in very similar ways. Food magically appears, cars & other forms of transportation fly, float, or hover, space travel is easily accessible, robots & button pushing does everything for you, and everyday attire involves overwhelming amounts of metallic textiles, crazy geometric formations, and seem highly impracticable for the work place.

I think it's interesting that this portrayal of the future seems to cross generational lines. I mean, "The Jetsons" was created in the 1960's, "Back to the Future" was in the 1980's, and even though about 20 years elapsed between the 2, there's a common thread in the object of the future. I don't know if these depictions were meant to be a parody or and exaggeration of the future, or if these people really imagined that these elements would manifest themselves in the coming years. But I have to say that when I think about the future, I think of it as a highly metropolitan space life with lasers and robots and lots of gadgets that save me from doing any manual labor ever as I lounge around in my crazy metallic jumpsuit, since jeans no longer exist, much like the creators of these shows and movies thought of the future. Regardless of what year it is, this future is timeless & will always exist just out of our reach. "Oh, I bet in the year 3000 they'll be a water park on Venus that knocks Indiana Beach of the map." These kind of things.

But here's the thing: We're living in the future. I said this one time and the people I was with just laughed at me as though they were expecting me to say something completely ridiculous for the sake of their enjoyment. But seriously, these things that generations have always thought would have in that unreachable future are happening in our lifetime & our generation. Within my life, we have reached the unattainable and fantastically impractical future that we have always dreamed up. This thought dawned on me one day when I went to Target & I saw that they now have these picture frames where you don't even put a picture in them. You just put this chip in them & then pictures just appear & they change out like a slide show. Now that is the future. It scared me a bit. It made me realize that the future of Doc Brown, Martie McFly, and Astro was a-knockin'. Then, when I was in Ft. Wayne this past week I saw on the news that a robot conducted the Detroit Symphony. Not a person, a robot. A real-live robot. And he said things that a person would say. An eloquent, educated person. And he did a really good job. That's the future, and it just happened 5 days ago. And you can't tell me that segways aren't crazy futuristic transportation instruments that you colored in on your "this is what the future will look like" project. Oh! And let's not forget about Deep Blue, the computer that beat a Russian at chess. It beat a Russian...at chess! Americans can't even beat Russians at chess. And it's been over a decade since that happened. So really, we've sort of past the commencement of the future. Now we're in the thick of it.

I guess I'm kind of disappointed in the future. I had such high expectations for it, and now that it's here it's kind of a bummer. I expected so much more, as my 2nd grade project revealed. Plus, I always thought that the reason we had the future was to create a life that we believed could never be. And since society is disproving that thought by proclaiming that it can be, what are our little imaginations supposed to do? I guess a positive is that those hovering skateboards from "Back to the Future: II" are just around the corner. I will anxiously be awaiting their arrival at Target.

A time to be studying, a time to spend your day answering absurd questions in order to find out if you are a drunk diva or a crunk chick

2008-05-08T16:19:00.005-04:00

My summer break has officially started. As much as I yearned for this time since September when it last concluded, I wish that it weren't here. I'm afraid I got my Grandpa's disease where I feel like I have to constantly be doing something. I guess I don't know how to relax, or how to function as a relaxed human being. I mean, I'm pretty laid back in personality, but when it comes to activity & function, I need to be doing something constantly. Tuesday night after we played a show I realized that I had nothing to do the next day, since I had spent all of monday cleaning my apartment from base board to ceiling trim. I mapped out a master plan for wednesday, involving a day spent reading, at the park, possibly exercising, baking, lots of stuff. When I woke up the next morning the sky was almost the same hue as it was when I went to bed, but now it was shedding its spring coat all over the earth. No park. I had no idea what to do with myself. I decided that since I had all of this time inside, I should use it by doing something productive like spending time with myself and really focusing on me & trying to find the answer to the question, "who is Maggie Paino?" What would the answer be to that question on jeopardy? I wanted to know. So, I dedicated the next 4 hours of my life to self-reflection...via online quizzes. You know the ones; they clutter up myspace & facebook pages with their philosophies on how that individual portrays a caramel apple strudel because he/she is such a sweet person that people, but people can only handle in certain types of situations but when others do get a little taste of him/her, they're addicted for life. I started goofing around on this website during my finals because I just wanted to do anything but study, obviously. I took a quiz called "how much do you weigh?" Now, to me this just seemed like such a ridiculous quiz to take. How on earth can they tell me how much I weigh without either being an analog or digital scale, or a carny? I answered questions regarding how much fast food I eat & how often I exercise. My result--I weigh 160 pounds. 160 POUNDS. Then I took a quiz of equitable absurdity called "are you pregnant?" Is your period more than 3 weeks late? Are you a woman? Are you bloated? (I got kind of nervous when I had to answer yes to that one) Have you taken more than 2 pregnancy tests that all resulted in "positive"? Luckily, I'm not pregant. Phew.

So, in my 4 hours of blog quizzes, here's what I learned about myself:

I have good spelling
My eyes should be brown (luckily, they are)
I have quite good cell phone etiquette
If I were a sandwich I would be a grilled cheese (but I think I would go by the name "cheese toastie)
I'm 76% Good
My life is rated PG
People definitely like me
If I were a cheesecake, I would be a key lime cheesecake
The animal that I was in a past life was an otter
If I were a shade of green, I would be apple green
I'm from the plant Neptume
My 1996 themesong is "Ironic" by Alanis Morisette
If I were a punctuation mark I would be a Question Mark (and I get along best with the Comma)
I will keep my New Year's Resolution
My scent is "pumpkin pie"
I really know my state capitals (I think the quiz was a little disturbed by how good I was)
I'm not ruined by American Culture
I'm a bad date
Out of the most recent former presidents, I am most like George H.W. Bush
My celebrity boob twin is Paris Hilton

As I continued down my path of self-evaluation and enlightenment, I found that not only were there quizzes telling me who I am, but there were also quizzes that would tell me how to live my life, & answered all of the tough questions that I've been facing as I begin to "grow up." This was great! All I had to do was answer a few questions, and then they would tell me what I should do! Where should I live? What kind of car should I drive? What kind of dog should I get? What should I be when I grow up? What higher educational degree should I get? (it said I should get a j.d., so it looks like I'm on the right track) What shade of lipstick should I wear? What April Fool's prank should I play? What color should my blog background be? This was great!

Then, as I got about 3 hours 45 minutes into these quizzes, I started to wonder about their results. Like the quiz "how happy are you?" Was that honestly how happy I was? Or the fact that I should have brown eyes. Could they have made a mistake? I started to doubt everything I had learned about myself that afternoon. But then, in a glistening moment of serendipity, I stumbled upon another section of quizzes that I could take. "How happy are you, really?" "What color eyes should you have, really?" It's like they knew that I was questioning their authority on these topics! So, I'm really supposed to have blue eyes? I knew it! It's a good thing I took this second quiz to make sure!

One thing that I was thoroughly impressed with is the quiz creator's ability to come up with ways to make someone feel like they really were a powdered devil's food donut with star-shaped sprinkles. Not only that, but the fact that they can pull so many things out of an inanimate object & personify it to the point that an individual feels so empowered by the fact that they represent a certain type of shoe. Seriously, think about it. It's just a very admirable skill in my book.

There was one question I came across that I had quite a bit of trouble answering. I believe it was a part of the quiz "what is your theme song for 1996?" The question asked:
Which artists do you like the best?

A. Michelle Branch, Fefe Dobson, Kelly Clarkson
B. Counting Crows, Sarah McLachlan, Sting
C. Maroon 5, Good Charlotte, Alanis Morissette
D. Fountains Of Wayne, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Jewel
E. Tori Amos, Norah Jones, Indigo Girls
F. Nickelback, Dido, Coldplay
G. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blink 182, Garbage
H. Christina Aguilera, Shakira, Nelly Furtado

What kind of groupings are those? Yeah Yeah Yeahs & Jewel? Nickelback & Coldplay? I would be quite perturbed if I were Coldplay & I was included in a group with Nickelback. Or Garbage & Blink 182?

So anyways, all in all, my summer break has started out successful. I've learned so much about who I am & what I should do with my life from here on out. I'm glad I got all that serious stuff out of the way so that I have plenty of time to have fun this summer.

that's what mom's are for

2008-04-09T19:52:00.002-04:00

To my mom:

I don't know which is more comforting. Is it the fact that you have consistently sent me something by post for the past 2 1/2 weeks because you know I love the feeling that comes from getting a personalized letter in the mail? Or is it that you "exed" out "today" in the pre-printed card and replace it so that it would say, "I hope 'the week' is the hopscotch kind." I also enjoyed the coupons that you included for the next time I need to buy vitamins or fabric softener. I know the source of my thriftiness. Could it be the fact that you sealed the envelope with a sunshine sticker that came with every order of the old shaklee vitamins you gave us as kids at breakfast time; which you decorated my lunch sacks with when I decided that it was uncool to have an actual lunch pail and wanted to "brown bag" it like everyone else. You wouldn't let me be a lunchtime conformist. Maybe it's just the fact that you still have these stickers after 18 years.

I guess what's most comforting is knowing that when I call you and say that I just need you to talk, you talk. You don't ask me questions, you just talk like a little kid on a bus sitting next to an elderly woman and chatting away about your new pinwheel or the dog you saw at the park. And you don't limit these gabby excursions to conform to your schedule or your sleep or you 30-minute hula hoop exercise routine in the morning. You'll talk whenever, wherever. That's pretty cool.

What Would You Do For an Ex-President?

2008-04-03T09:57:00.003-04:00

Due to the actual existence of a primary season, Indiana has actually seen some action on the political battlefield, and Bloomington was on the front line yesterday. Former President Bill Clinton made a stop in Bloomington to campaign for his wife's nomination. When I heard the news, I knew that I had to do whatever it took to guarantee my attendance at the rally. Indiana is such a dust bowl of political action, mostly due to its established role as a staunch "red state." Most democrats won't even come near the place. Actually, I don't even think there's an established Democratic headquarters in Ft. Wayne. I think the handful of donkeys just meet in someone's living room.

So, I found out the details of Clinton's rally and penciled it in. I bailed out of school at noon & rushed over to Assembly Hall to secure my place in line, like I was waiting for tickets to "Star Wars." I'm not good with numbers, but we were definitely within the first 100 attendees in line. There were multiple button salesmen & some t-shirt salesmen. There were Hillary protesters & Ron Paul supporters picketing. The line wrapped around like an extra-long shoe lace that someone just pulled out of their Chuck Taylor & carelessly discarded on their bedroom floor. It was exciting. It was nice to actually be in that political environment that I love so much.

Bill was supposed to speak at 2pm. The doors didn't open until about 1:30pm. We got really good seats. James Mann started the wave while winding up the inclined ramps that take you from level to level in Assembly Hall. There was a crazy lady with drawn on eyebrows, Phil Spektor hair, & a black velvet cowboy-fringed jacket sans female bolo tie in front of us that cut about 15 people in line just to sit in the back of the auditorium. We got situated. The dudes were having fun, trying to get the crowd pumped. It was now about 2:10pm. I then realized that I hadn't eaten since 1pm the day before. I felt like I was going to throw up my internal organs, just before I passed out. The guys were tossing off their coats and sweatshirts as they worked up a sweat playing air-guitar to Lenny Kravitz being played over the loud speaker. I quickly mustered the strength to gather their discarded coats to cover my shivering, convulsing body. It's now about 2:45pm; still no Bill. I figure that the gum that I had been chewing for the past 2 hours would provide me some nutrients if i just chewed it harder. Luckily, my jaw was involuntarily chattering so I didn't have to exert any more energy into trying to make my chops smack. 3pm: my vision starts to go foggy as an unidentified human figure approaches the podium & the crowd starts to cheer. "Oh good," I thought. "Oh wrong," was more like it. This unfunny IU student got up to try and keep the buzz that was generated from the Mann/Felton/Dixon generated wave. "Does anyone have any candy? Even a peppermint would suffice." I asked. "Nope." "Do you want me to go get you a pop?" "No, I'll be fine. You might miss Clinton if you go get a pop. Plus, it's $3. That's ridiculous." 3 minutes later, as I felt myself slipping in & out of consciousness and wasn't strong enough to stand up to let a girl pass through the aisle to go to the bathroom I ask Mike if I can borrow some money to try & muster the strength to climb the stairs to the concession stand to purchase an over-priced 20 ounce bottle of sugary pop that had the lid permanently removed. "No, no, I'll go get it." "No, I can do it. I'm fine" That's my typical response to everything. I can pretty much guarantee that those will be my last words. "I'm fine." Anyway, Mike got the sprite and I slowly started to sip it in between gag reflexes. "Is it helping?" "Well, I'm able to see again." 4:00pm. Still no ex-president.

Finally, around 4:30pm, Bill arose from behind the curtain. I was really excited. He was such a great speaker. He has this way of taking such complex societal concerns and explaining them in a way that even a Purdue alumni would comprehend. (I don't know. That's all I could come up with. My contracts professor always slams on Purdue grads.) This is truly a gift. I think this is one area where Hillary lacks, & she's lucky to have Bill around. She's slowly figuring out how to do this, but Bill is a master. The other thing that impressed me with Bill is how socially magnetic he was. He was explaining why he was so late to show up and at one point said, "I was in Bedford, and was done speaking, but I just have a problem that I can't help but shake people's hands." And it's true. When he finished his speech, President Clinton darted off the stage to congregate with "the people." It was almost like, okay I've done my wife's business, no I want to do my business." He beat the crowd to introductions. It was incredible & exhilarating. I was a Hillary fan before going to hear Bill Clinton, but his speech secured my vote. As pathetic as it sounds, hearing Bill talk about his wife and what she has done with her life instilled a re-exhilaration into my soul that was much needed. I understand what I'm doing in law school.

So, what would I do for an ex-president? I would skip out on an entire day of classes during "crunch time" before finals, stand in line for 2 hours, teeder between consciousness & unconsciousness as I slowly slip into a coma, and spend $3 on a pop. That's what I would do to have my faith restored through the words and actions of an ex-president.

Also, when I got home last night I had plans to attend the Why?/Prayer Breakfast show at Bear's. Unfortunately, I wasn't strong enough to make it over there. I was pretty bummed. I guess "missing a good show" could be tacked on to the list of things that I would do for an ex-president.

Missed connections

2008-03-29T20:06:00.004-04:00

While studying today, one of my friends from school came over and started talking to me. I was quite relieved to talk to someone because I was about to reach my quota of life in contracts. He said, "I can't study anymore. I don't want to study anymore. I just want to fall in love and brunch." He then proceeded to tell me that this upcoming wednesday he has a date with a girl that he has never met. Apparently, his roommate posted a personal ad for him on Craig's List as a joke and a decent girl responded, so his roommate is going to fix them dinner & be all matre'de. We got to talking about Craig's List. Did you know that there is a portion of Craig's List called "Missed Connections"? It's completely dedicated to people posting about someone that they see on a regular basis or have seen in passing that they wish they would get the nerve to talk to them, or wish they would've talked to them while they had the chance. It's weird to think that Craig's List has a whole section dedicated to the documentation of lost opportunities and individual hesitations. People post their hopes on Craig's List, but it's like they preemptively acknowledge that they lost their chance and that moment will never return. It's just sad to me. Granted, some of these people post their "missed connection" simply because they want to hook up (even though there is a whole nother section of Craig's List entitled "Casual Encounters" for these individuals), there are obviously some individuals that were truly impacted by such a happenstance encounter with an individual that they didn't even approach. For example:

"At the Field Museum today our eyes met, more than once. I felt it. I know you did too as you caught me, looking for you around every corner of the exhibit. You looked stunning in those black boots with your green jacket tied around your waist. All I could manage was a smile as we both were leaving. Give me a shout back to save me from wondering..."

"We kept on eyeing each other even though people sat next to us. Wish we could have introduced ourselves."

I don't know. I think that this is just fascinating stuff. So much so that I'm having a difficult time sorting out exactly what I want to say about all of this. Maybe it's because I can relate to these missed connections so well. Not necessarily in the realm of experiencing this overwhelming emotion in passing with a stranger (although I've definitely experienced this before. I mean seriously, haven't you?), but just in life in general. Or in relationships in general. I feel like there are so many relationships, whether it be with family or friends or dudes or dogs or whatever, that I have let be missed connections. I either don't take the initiative to keep up with the relationship, or I just let my passive and insecure nature overcome me and keep me from actually pursuing or pushing a relationship to that deeper level with another person. I can think of maybe 2 or 3 people that I have actually worked at the relationship and set aside my apathy to really strive for a connection. That's pathetic. Why do we get so guarded and so nonchalant about these kind of things? I mean, seriously, one little step could pretty much alter your entire fate. Think about all of these people on Craig's List. They realize that, which is why they are now trying to backpeddle fate to see what might've been. I don't know. Maybe I should've waited to write this when I wasn't so brain dead and actually had the time to sort out my thoughts.

I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to have any missed connections in my life. Or, I guess a more accurate declaration would be that I don't want to have anymore missed connections in my life. I think this is going to be a bigger task than I realize. You know, you just have to go for it. Who gives a rip. (what does that mean? Is it short for something? I never really knew.)

Oh, also when I was reading through these I rather narcissistically wondered, "Are any of these about me?" I know that's incredibly self-centered, but seriously, you can't help but wonder. It's weird to think that maybe I was someone's missed connection, or that I was the person that left such an impact that they went searching for me on Craig's List. It's incredibly flattering, if you think about it. Someone was so intrigued by you that they are looking for a way to bring you into their life. I know to some degree it could reach a level of stalkerdom, but it's still pretty crazy. I wouldn't mind being someone's missed connection; the only downside is thinking about the fact that you're not as hung up about the situation as the other individual is. Except if it was a mutually missed connection. My friend that I was talking to actually said that he knows a guy that posted a "missed connection" and the actual girl responded. They ended up dating for 3 years or so. Pretty incredible. As someone on the site said, "I know it's pretty stupid for me to post this, but it's Craig's List so anything can happen!" or something along those lines.

Also, this got me to thinking, I shared a moment with a dog yesterday. It had his head sticking out of the backseat passenger window of an older Honda Civic. It was a beagle. I really like beagles. Should I post this on Craig's List? I'm so lonely, I shared a moment with a dog.

What's Your Metaphor?

2008-03-15T00:26:00.004-04:00

This pretty much sums up my life right now. You could substitute pretty much any element, accessory, weight control attempt, extracurricular activity, hope, or dream for the balloon animal that I am trying to wield and control to form some impeccably made teddy bear. Yep.

Maggie

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Does This Thing Have 4-Wheel Drive?

2008-03-15T00:26:00.003-04:00

What I got for Christmas:

slippers
fondu set (for cheese!)
a palm pilot that is strictly for the use of presenting me with sudoku puzzles
an orange peeler
a star cookie cutter
a "law school survival kit" (which will come in handy if I'm actually in law school this next semester--complete with a red swingline stapler)
my grandma telling me that she would disown me if I actually got a tattoo, literally, out of the will disown me

My brother got a wii for Christmas, and we decided to create lots of little mii's to run around. We made Teddy Roosevelt, Rudy Giuliani, Kim Jung Ill (spelling?), and one of those kids you always see on the commercials asking for donations for the village (we called this one "adopt mii").

I just saw a 3 second clip from the remake of "King Kong" and I think I might want to see it. The girl that Kong lusts after looks really happy when Kong snaps her out of her apartment and carries her around. She's not screaming; it's quite to the contrary. She's rather enjoying herself and almost looks like she's going to turn the movie into a musical.

My brother was reading the paper today and saw an article about a guy in Frankfort, Indiana that just bought a truck for $25,000 and he paid for it strictly in coins. Quarters and dollar coins. That's 100,000 quarters. And this isn't the first time he's bought a car in coins. He bought a dodge ram and a dodge neon 13 years ago for $34,000 and paid for those vehicles in all coins. I've decided that I'm going to stop using my debit card and paying strictly in coins from now on. I'm going to embrace the fact that the US mint has provided us with those beautiful Sacajewa coins.

the johnny appleseed of coins

My Christmas Wish for Dinociety

2008-03-15T00:25:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I was at Soma thinking about what I needed to be thinking about when studying for my Torts exam when I ran into a my fellow law student and friend, Pete. I went up to Pete and asked, "Hey Pete, how gung ho are you studying for tomorrow?" "How gung ho?" he replied. "Well, right now I'm looking up the Bedford Wal-Mart on Google Maps so that I can go and pick up an N64 with 27 games that I bought off of Craig's List from a redneck guy who thinks that I'm some homosexual internet predator. So, about that gung ho." From there Pete and I decided that we really didn't need to study and we talked about other stuff as if we had a life outside of law school. it was kind of like imagining kids talking about the stock market with their plastic cash registers. Pete asked me what I was going to ask for for Christmas. I had no idea. That's nothing new for me though because I rarely want anything. I feel like my dad used to get and might still get mad about me never wanting anything for Christmas or my birthday. So I decided that this year I would start thinking of stuff that I wanted." Here's what I have so far:

1. a counter--like what they have at theaters to find out how many more people they can let in. They make a clicking noise. I would just go around counting things all day long. That would make me oh so happy.

2. one of those things that you put your deposit in at the bank when you go through the drive-thru. That tube; not the tube that sucks it up, but the tube that has that revolvable lid and smarties used to magically appear from within.

3. an N64 with Mario Kart, and Zelda; and I want my brother to play Zelda while I just sit and watch him beat it.

4. saddle shoes

5. more kitchen toys; preferably more little gadgets for baking. I really want a sifter. I used to play with the one at my grandma's all of the time. I loved that thing. I also want a wooden spoon. Recipes always call for me to use wooden spoons, and I never have one.

6. Tickets to one of the Spice Girls reunion concerts

Also, yesterday I went to Backstreet Mission to look for something to do, and I found this book called "If the Dinosaurs Came Back." We all know my stance on dinos, so I'm not going to get into that, but lately I've been kind of warming up to the little guys. (babies, dogs, and dinos...weird) Anyways, this book has just gotten me even more confused about the whole race. Here's what the book says dinosaurs could do it they came back (my thoughts are in parentheses):

-carry your dad to work and back (but not your mom?)
-we wouldn't need lawn mowers (don't families have neighbor kids or their own kids for that?)
-house painters wouldn't need any more ladders
-they would scare away robbers (this is probably the best contribution they would have, really)
-they would make it easy for farmers to plow their fields (don't farmers have kids for that?)
-they would help lumberjacks chop down trees (I don't think any more trees need to be chopped down)
-they could help fire fighters put out fires (weren't dinosaurs scared of fire? I thought cavemen always used fire as a defense mechanism against the ferocious creatures. And what about fire breathing dinosaurs?)
-they could help build big skyscrapers (come on, dinosaurs aren't that big)
-they would make great ski slopes (is this reliable? I can just see so many tortious law suits as a result of dino slopes)
-they could take swimmers on rides at the beach (and then never come back...)
-they could rescue kites stuck in very tall trees (okay, this one is good too)
-mountain climbers would have new mountains to climb (mountain climbers have new mountains to climb when they come home and their wife wants a divorce because that mountain climber's never around)
-they could be a big help at the circus (I don't understand...)
-they could help librarians get books from the top shelf (apparently ladders no longer exist, even though dinos are chopping down enough trees to produce ladders for painters, librarians, and firefighters)
-dentists would have plenty of teeth to work on (the picture of this one has a dentist lying inside a t-rex's mouth on top a bed of bottom row molars--that's just not safe)
-giraffes would have someone to look up to (animals don't care about heros. we care about making animals into heros, like Simba)
-they could push away rain clouds so the sun would always shine (first of all, clouds are not made of mallow puff and therefore cannot just be shoved around. second of all, if it didn't rain we'd all be dead. way to go dinos)
-they would make great pets for people who love dinosaurs (this is supposedly the best reason of all. did this person not see Jurassic Park?)

As Becky pointed out yesterday, it appears that dinosaurs would be taking away a lot of jobs. Dinosaurs would become the new Chinese, or the Indian (from India) for the U.S. I think I want to like dinosaurs, but it's just not working out.

Jesus is My Homeboy

2008-03-15T00:24:00.004-04:00

You know how sometimes you just don't want to go to church because it just sounds boring and you know you have so much to be doing for the day and it's all rainy and gloomy like it usually is on sundays (which I always thought God did that on purpose to test your dedication on the sabbath) and your sinuses are all swollen and you have 4 really big exams and you're surrounded by people who are non-stop studying and you just don't have time for God? Those are the best times to go to church. We sang this song today at church. How could this not just make you happy and thankful for everything that God has done so that you could be so busy in life? I was a little disappointed that I wasn't back home at church so that I could just jump up and down and clap and run around like those crazy people used to do (that's what you get when you grow up in a church with a pentecostal background with people speaking tongues all around you), but unfortunately I go to a church with a methodist background and they're so suppressed. Why wouldn't you go buck-wild when you sing this song and realize what you're singing?

I'm so ready to study 24/7 for the next 2 weeks and kill my exams now. Yeah, this song is the shit.

In Christ alone my hope is found;
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This cornerstone, this solid ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease.
My comforter, my all in all--
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone, who took on flesh, fullness of God in helpless babe.
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save.
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied;
For every sin on Him was laid--
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground his body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious day,
Up from the grave He rose again.
And as He stands in victory,
Sins curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine--
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death--
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hel, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or cals me home--
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.

Just Stuff I'm Thinking About

2008-03-15T00:24:00.003-04:00

Why was it such a big deal when you spilled milk on yourself as a kid? I remember this one time when my brothers and I were sitting at "the bar" in our kitchen having our late night snack of oreos and milk (yes, we really had an organized "late night snack" every night and it usually consisted of something incredibly unhealthy. Looking back I realize that perhaps these late night snacks contributed immensely to my childhood obesity, which might be why my mother always snuck in "reduced fat" oreos on my plate) and I spilled my milk all over my pj's. My mom flipped. She told me not to move, like there was an arachnid crawling on me or some poisonous creature that could strike at any moment. She told the boys to run as fast as they could to the laundry room and grab as many towels as they could find, and then whoever wasn't getting the towels to get me new pajamas. It was quite the fiasco. I thought that maybe the milk had this power to eat away my skin like some sort of acid or if the milk was not contained within a certain amount of time and was exposed to the air rather than my belly it would form some crazy mutant that would take over our kitchen and eventually the world if it was not contained. I mean, sure, its no fun when you spill something and you want to clean it up as fast as you can, but why is milk such a big deal?

Yesterday I finally cleaned out my voicemail on my phone. I had 16 unheard messages. The call to my voicemail lasted 7:43.

On Thanksgiving I made a 2-year-old frown. It was probably the saddest thing I've ever seen, and all I could do was laugh.

At school I was talking to this kid and he started talking about "doing the deed" (honestly, the conversation was headed nowhere near that topic) and I said something along the lines of, "well, I really wouldn't know," and he goes, "Wait. Really? Are you? Seriously, you're joking, right? No way." I responded that I was a pretty strong Christian and that I don't really believe in that sort of thing before marriage and whatnot, and then he proceeded to "not believe I was a Christian because I wasn't lame." Clearly, this was all a bit offensive. First of all, I was so confused about how I of all people could be perceived as a "ho." I mean, seriously there is not a "ho" bone in my body. Nothing in my appearance suggests ho, and I'm pretty sure that my childlike personality cannot be ho-like because how many kids do you know that are hobags? Plus, I was kind of mad at myself for not seeming like a Christian. I wasn't so much offended that he didn't think I was a Christian as much as I was upset that I wasn't portraying the image of Christ in my life and emitting Christ's love unto others. It really made me evaluate how I act at school and in other public places or even with friends and family. Why would I want to hide my Christianity from others? It's such a huge part of me that it should be very apparent when people meet me that I'm a Christian. I think I'm going to change that.

I know Thanksgiving is over, but I really feel that we should not bottle up all of our gratitude into one gluttonous day of thanks and food, and it get lost in the green bean casserole. While driving back to Bloomington on Saturday morning, realizing that my life was about to be over for the next 3 weeks as I dedicated every waking (and sleeping) hour to the study of law I just started giving thanks. It's so easy to forget the great things that God blesses you with when you're tired and been groomed to have such a cynical outlook on the world, as they do in law school. I started to remember that night when I received the call from the Dean asking if I wanted to go to law school. I realized that I would not even be in the position of preparing for finals if it weren't for God's intervention. I reminded myself that even though things are not going the way I want them to go, or that I am stressed or unhappy or am experiencing much hardship and confusion and anxiety in my life that I should still give thanks. If there's anything that I've learned from my past it's that it's the hard stuff that ends up giving you the most joy in life. If it weren't for the hardships life would be so mundane. I am pretty glad that I always seem to have something bad going on in my life because I know that it's not going to last forever, and when it's over God's going to bless me in a way that I never expected. I really love giving thanks. Now, I hope that the way God blesses me is by helping me Ace my finals.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

2008-03-15T00:23:00.001-04:00

One of the extracurricular activities that I take part in here at the law school is "OLL," or Outreach for Legal Literacy, where we go into 5th classrooms and teach kids about the U.S. legal system. I was really excited to do this because I really like teaching. It's so rewarding and brings me such genuine joy. Plus, I remembered when I was in elementary school and the high schoolers came over and would teach us or put on a Christmas musical spectaculare and I thought they were the coolest people on the planet. I wanted to be that for these kids...the cool law school student that comes and teaches law.

Today, our lesson was on the 14th amendment--equal protection and affirmative action. Our lesson plan suggested that we play "marsopoly" the game where centuries of racial tensions, segregation, and discrimination come to life as you and your friends try to create a utopian society--but watch out for those supreme diktats who make up arbitrary rules that keep you from being integrated into society! (the actual rules of the game are too difficult to explain, and I still have yet to figure out how to really play the game. All I knew is that I got to bully around 5th graders for the hour)

Jared made these great hazard cards that were to be issued to certain groups in order to hinder their efforts to achieve the perfect community. Some of the "best hits" of hazard cards included, "Daniel Stern comes to town to be grand marshall of the town bicentennial parade. He robs the bank with sticky gloves, and "high school basketball team turns into wooves...teen wooves." Just before I was going to make the orange team, who was on the verge of bankruptcy due to our incessant bullying, do 10 jumping jacks and grass-pickers, I made them pay 25 "Paino Pesos" to the other 3 teams. That was all it took.

CRASH! "What was that?" my fellow teacher asked. All of the sudden, one of the citizens of team orange shot up from his desk after throwing said desk over, kicked the trash can, and then moved on to the fan leaned up against the wall where he proceeded to kick his foot into it over and over. Then he stopped, looked at the "supreme diktats", and said, "Shut the F*** up, you A**holes!"

"Well kids, we just witnessed how inequality can control our emotions. And what do we think of inequality and the importance of the 14th amendment?" "Next week we're going to talk about your right to protection and self-defense."

Kids DO say the darndest things--even if they make you fear for your personal safety.

Pen on Face

2008-03-15T00:22:00.004-04:00

As I was writing notes to myself in the margin of one of my books and I was returning my right hand to its position on my chin partly holding it up and partly contributing to my intellectual prowess my pen swiped the side of my face. I didn't want to just start searching for where it might have been and rub my face until it was all red and go to class looking like I'd just eaten an everlasting gobstopper and reached the tomato soup when the malfunction occurred, so I wrote on my hand "pen on face." That way I would remember to wash off the pen I had gotten on my face. After I got to class and forgot to stop off in the restroom to wipe off the pen on my face I realized that not only did I have pen on my face, but I also had it on my hand too. And where would I write "pen on hand" to remind myself that I needed to wash the pen off of my hand?

After class I got the pen off of my face and semi-off my hand. Then I went back upstairs and was reading again and marking up the margins when my pen made contact with my face again. I feel like there are some people out there who always get pen on their face or hi-liter on their nose, but I'm not one of them. This never happens to me. What are the chances that I would go probably 7 years without getting pen on my face and today I get ink on my chin twice? So, I traced over the left over "pen on face" that I had previously written on my hand with fresh ink.

While I looked at the writing on my hand I wondered if people were looking at it trying to see what was written on my hand. I thought someone could think that it said "prima facie," which is a frequently used legal term. Then I got to thinking about the time when I joined the "Pen 15" club. Well, actually, I joined the "Pen 15" club every year from 6th-11th grade. I honestly never caught on, and I never remembered what it was. Someone would ask me (the first person that asked me was Sam Miller in Ms. Bushnell's 6th grade class) and I would know that I shouldn't do it, but I couldn't remember why I shouldn't do it, and the culprit would always be able to talk me in to doing it. It was kinda like that "game" that teachers gave you every year the day before Christmas break for a time filler so they wouldn't have to teach something that you wouldn't remember anyways with all of those riddle drawings that when solved gave you the name of a Christmas carol. I always got the same ones wrong, every year. You would think that I would write down the answer somewhere so that I wouldn't forget about it. Actually, I think I wrote it on my hand, but then I saw that I had pen on my hand, so I washed it off.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

2008-03-15T00:22:00.003-04:00

Two nights ago I had this dream. It was a culmination of everything that's happening in my life right now...well, except for the weed...and the bears.

So it all started with me hanging out with some friends, who I think were mostly from high school and with whom I wasn't particularly friends with while in high school or thereafter. Anyways, I get home to my old house and my mom has this subpoena/blackmail letter with pictures of me smoking pot and being drunk and and all that ballyhoo but the thing is the pictures were just of me hanging out. There was no alcohol or any illegal substance in sight. Attached with the picture was this letter saying that if I didn't testify at this trial then these pictures would be released and my reputation ruined. (this is not how a real subpoena works, kids) So this trial was of a kid that I apparently worked with at Sam's Club (where I have never worked, nor been a member) and he was killed and they thought that because I worked with him at Sam's Club, in different departments, and apparently went to high school with him but had never talked to him in either environment that I would be this crucial link or that I had something to do with his death (which I didn't). So I told the people to go ahead and release the pictures because I didn't care and I hadn't done anything wrong but then I ended up at the trial anyways. (confused?) But, the trial wasn't in a courtroom, it was in an auditorium where stage performances would take place. I'm sitting in the audience with my mom and my Crim Law professor gets up and is trying to get everyone's attention and is dressed in some crazy costume with a horn that those clowns that don't talk use to communicate. So I'm sitting there, and this person hands me their jacket and I'm like, "I don't know you. I don't want your jacket." And then I unfold the wadded jacket and inside are approximately 10 bears that are the size of hamsters, or a little bigger. They were crazy. They had the bear paws with the long claws but they were so little. They started running around the courtroom theater and one of them curled up all cuddly in my sweatshirt that I had set on the floor because I had gotten hot, and another crawled up my clothes and his claws really dug in to my sweater and he just hung there like a mountain climber. Then this handicap girl in a wheelchair with those throat respirator gets up on stage to testify and she shows this weird video and then talks about how she's in love with this guy that's has apparently been killed and that I somehow know but dont' know (who, by the way, is actually alive and is sitting in a wheelchair with one of those crazy halo things that they give you when you've broken your spinal cord). So then when this girl gets off the stage I hear my professor mispronounce my name (as he always does--Meggie Pino) and I get out of my seat and start walking up to the stage. While walking up there some dude says under his breath out the side of his mouth, "Good luck following that one." So I get up on the "witness stand" and instead of asking me questions about this guy's death (who obviously is not dead) these valley girls start asking me questions about relationships, and in particular threw out these hypotheticals about "what would you think if the girl in the wheelchair and the guy in the wheelchair dated? What would you say to them getting married?" I had them repeat the questions a few times and my crim law prof was trying to wave me down to say that I shouldn't answer the questions as though they would be detrimental to the case and my defense and that I would end up incriminating myself. So I responded, "well, I think it's fine if they date but if they find out it doesn't work then they shouldn't feel pressured try and make it work just because society thinks 2 handicapped people should be together (what is this logic?). And I think that if 2 people love each other and get along and have fun and you know, really like each other, then they should just go for it, and if these 2 want to get married they should be allowed to." Then I looked over at my professor who was just shaking his hand as though I had just moved my king into "check mate."

(enter one clogged nostril that required me to flip sides so that it could take a break and the other nostril could have a turn at being stuffed full of mucus, leading to the onset of my consciousness and the abrupt ending of my dream)

When I Grow Up, I Want To Be (Fill in the Blank)

2008-03-15T00:20:00.002-04:00

Growing up I never really had any normal ambitions. I never wanted to be successful. I felt bad when we had to fill out those information sheets on the first day of school in elementary school, or when we went around and introduced ourselves in high school and the question was asked regarding what we wanted to be when we grew up, or what we wanted to go to college for and I didn't have an answer like everyone else. I never wanted to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher, or a movie star. My answers were never definite and clean answers. I would just say, I want a job where I can have one of those old cash registers that dings, or I want to be on broadway, but not as a stage actor but in the orchestra pit and be the first saxophonist in the orchestra. I've always been way more into the aesthetic aspects of jobs than the actual substance of what I'd be doing. I remember one time I answered that I wanted to be a professional cup stacker. I saw these kids stacking cups really fast in crazy triangles, and I said to myself, that's what I want to do with the rest of my life. I want to stack cups really fast. Not just as a hobby, but as my occupation. I figured that I could use that skill at parties as a caterer, or at a department store as a display constructor and demolisher. My turn around time between the Thanksgiving and Christmas display construction would be incomprehensible.

I still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up, and lately people have been asking non-stop. While in undergrad I said that I wanted to work for the postal service delivering mail, because that was what I really wanted to do. I didn't want to go work for some politician as a campaign manager, I wanted to people's faces light up as I came to their doorstep with my mail pouch and I give them a letter from their friend that they weren't expecting. It would be so exciting! And those outfits are by far the greatest uniforms. I don't know what to do with my life, but what I do know is that I really want a bowl of fruit loops. Or maybe fruity pebbles. I don't know which form I want my artificially flavored serving of fruit presented to me.

Babies, Dogs, Werewolves, & Jewish Traditions

2008-03-15T00:19:00.004-04:00

Lately I've noticed that I'm enjoying little kids more, as they toddle around. I also feel that little kids are on the same level as dogs in their social appeal. They're something you dress up and show off in order to make other people jealous that you have one and they don't.

I was walking out of the law school to get a bite to eat when I saw this dog running around in a plaid pale purple parka. It wasn't a very cute dog, but any time I see a dog I get excited. I just really love dogs. Anyways, I turn the corner and the owners of the dog were walking towards me (who I didn't see until I turned the corner) and the man nudges his wife and says, "Honey, get Layla over here; this lady wants to pet her," implying that I wanted to pet their dog. I didn't know these people, I didn't approach them or give them a head nod or some other cordial gesture, and I most definitely did not clearly state to them that I wanted to pet their dog. He just saw me walking towards them and assumed that I wanted to pet their dog. I was stuck. It was quite an odd situation for me, so I pet the dog, who looked ridiculous in the coat it was wearing because it was quite a husky dog, and it had ripped it apart (kind of like Chris Farley in Tommy Boy), and then the dog jumped up on me and was really friendly so I said, "You're great," like I was trying to break up with the dog or something. I don't know why this through me off so much. I suppose it's because I'm so used to the dog approaching me for affection rather than the owner forcing me to give it up to their dog.

But you never really have parents forcing their child on you...well, unless it's kind of an ugly baby or something. Then you're stuck holding this unattractive blob whose future of social torment flashes before your eyes and you find yourself whispering to the child, "Oh, look at you! You're going to have such a great personality when you grow up! It's on the inside that counts!" all in that goo goo gah gah voice that people automatically speak in when dealing with human beings whose age is still referred to in months.

FOR ALL YOU 30 ROCK FANS, AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO HAS CONSIDERED WATCHING THE SHOW:

Riddle Me This

2008-03-15T00:19:00.003-04:00

Q: What do you get when you combine the aromas of dirty feet, patchouli, B.O., nasty stringent starbucks coffee, sugar, Oliver (Becky's dog), and the smell of panic after you realize that you have 3 hours worth of legal research to do and you only have 45 minutes to do so?

A: Maggie, the morning after Halloween, where she borrowed Becky's clothes in ordeer to dress like a Hippie-ed out Bloomingfood's employee, and then had to wake up at 6am and skip out on showering for the 3rd day in a row in order to get her homework done that she didn't do the night before because she was too busy eating airheads and hershey's take 5's, and therefore had to resort to drinking Starbuck's coffee in order to stay awake when she loathes the Starbucks enterprise and has to gag down the coffee because it tastes like burnt hair but didn't have time to get proper coffee before class.

Hallelujah, It's Halloween!

2008-03-15T00:18:00.001-04:00

Being a pastor's kid/grandkid/niece I had quite a few social obligations at church as well as social expectations to live up to. In general, I was expected to avoid anything demon-possessed or satanic, including Michael Jackson, Dungeons & Dragons, jeans, ouiga board, New Kids on the Block, and of course Halloween. As you can tell, it was very hard to function in the normal kid world when you weren't allowed to enjoy the sugary, candy-coated night of ghouls and goblins like everyone else.

Luckily, our church hosted a spiritual alternative to the heathen holiday called "Hallelujah Night." Instead of dressing up like witches, serial killers, and movie starts we decided to pay homage to biblical characters and concepts. As we all walked from room to room down the sunday school hall all dressed up we answered questions about out particular garb, its correlation to the bible, and its importance in the great book. We were then rewarded with pencils, bouncey balls, and anything else that you could buy in bulk from that Super Trading Post magazine. We even got candy like the other "secular" kids did...even though they were called "testa-mints" and the more recent "NEW testa-mints." I remember being surrounded by some of the greateset costumes I've ever seen. My friend Andrea taped purple air-filled balloons all over her persona nd went as a "fruit of the spirit"; my friend Anita dressed like a cute '60's (1960's, not 60 B.C.) girl with her 2 stuffed animal pets on leashes trailing behind her--she was "Shirley" and her pets were "Goodness & Mercy" following her (see Psalm 23); and my brother's friend Gabriel went as John the Baptist's head. (this was really good--he sat in a rolling chair, put a big piece of cardboard that rested on his shoulders so as to look like a table with a table cloth draped over it, and his head was sitting on a silver platter)

It wasn't until 7th grade that I stepped outside the church walls into the world of neighborhoods and door bells. I was so excited! This was going to be great--trick or treating always looked like so much fun; I had this grandiose image in my head of how the night was going to go. After dinner I put on my bumblebee costume, which was a big black & yellow striped body suit of sorts with legs holes and a hula hoop in the bottom to give the bumbley affect. I walked over into the neighboring neighborhood with my plastic halloween bucket that looked like a purple witch jack-o-lantern in which I was served a happy meal from McDonald's to my up with all of my friends. I walked in the door, having to maeuver the hula hoop so I could fit through the door frame, and I was shocked to see the pathetic costumes that awaired me. "I'm a 70's girl." "I'm an army guy." Where was the creativity? Then they all strapped on their rollerblades. "What's this all about?" I asked. "Oh, we rollerblade so we can hit more houses." So they bladed and I stumbled behind to the house next door. "Trick or Treat!" I shouted in a choir of one. Everyone kind of stopped and emitted this vibe which let me know that that was soo 6 year old. They thrusted their giant pillow cases which allowed for maximum candy acquirement in the face of the homeowner awaiting their entitled candy. These kids weren't even working for it! So there I was, on my first Halloween night, running to try and keep up with my friends on wheels, burning off the calories from the caramel apple I snuck in after dinner, and catching the fun-size snickers and necco disks that were billowing out of my overflowing McDonald's bucket along the way, all while dressed as the biggest, most bumbley bumble bee.

Sadly, I think that the Evangelical Christians caught on to the spirit of Halloween more than the kids that had been celebrating it their whole lives. Perhaps they just became disillusioned by the holiday...I just wanted to pull a Linus and explain to all of these Charlie Browns the true meaning of Halloween. At the end of the night I wanted so badly to return to Hallelujah night, and thank Uncle Art and Aunt Alta for teaching me that the world sucks.

Good Video

2008-03-15T00:17:00.004-04:00

Who remembers the episode of "The O.C." where Marissa shoots that scummy dude and they played Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek" over the footage? Well, there's an amazing parody of this scene on youtube that was found via best week ever involving some footage from "Step by Step" and it's absolutely hilarious. I saw it a few weeks ago and thought it was something that everyone should watch. My favorite parts are the jelly donut and the pie in the face. I hope you enjoy!

Rummaging

2008-03-15T00:17:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I went to every thrift store in Bloomington, and even traveled to Martinsville to look for some good deals. I was on a mission to find furniture, since I am in desperate need of some formal seating in this joint, but walked out with a book, 2 vhses, a board game, and a toothbrush holder. A synopsis of what I bought:

1. "Honestly, Katie John!," by Mary Calhoun. (description on back cover): "I hate boys!" says Katie John. "They're terrible, awful, nasty things!" So Katie John forms a club--a Boy-Haters of America Club. All the girls join, but nor for long. Soon all they talk about are clothes and dancing, and of all things--boys! But not Katie. "I'll show them," she says--and dreams up a wild plan. But nothing ever happens just the way katie John expects it to. Honestly, Katie John, the funny trouble you get into!

2. "The Donut Man with Duncan and the Donut Repair Club." The VHS bos has a picture of a man talking to a glazed yeast donut with cookie monster eyes and no mouth. I'm assuming the hole is the mouth, but I don't understand how they make the mouth move without the donut breaking in half. I remember this video from the church bookstore. I never watched it as a kid because I was too caught up in "Psalty, the Singing Hymn Book" to fuss with a talking donut. What does a donut even have to do with Christianity? I don't remember donuts in the bible, but I perhaps they should've been.

3. "Mannequin Two: One the Move." I have never seen "Mannequin," but I've seen "Mannequin Two," the sequel, more times than I can count on TBS during my youth. My favorite part was the flagrantly homosexual but the producers tried to make seem straight on the inside character's glasses that were scissors. They were so cool. I remember thinking as a kid that this was one of the worst movies I'd ever seen, and I loved every minute of it. If you haven't seen the movie, perhaps this little tid bit will help you get a feel for the movie: on the back of the box, the plot summary ends with this sentence, "It's showtime...and "Hollywood" and Jason are going to show up the sorcerer but good!" Just as this sentence is a paradoxical structure, so is the movie itself.

4. "Landslide: Parker Brothers Game of Power Politics." "In LANDSLIDE your challenge is to become President of the United STates. The road to the top is wild and full of surprises. You must corner a majority of the electoral votes for a victory and it's going to take luck, guts, charm, brains, and a gambler's instinct to do it. You'll be manipulating millions of popular votes and trying to use them to capture states. It's comething like the real race--but you don't have to wait 4 years between games!" Little did Parker Brothers know that as time progressed the turn-around time between election preparation would decrease to about 2 months after said election, so election season becomes ad nauseum and the general public wants nothing to do with politics after year 2 of primary talk and therefore have no desire to play a board game involving them in the drain the politics have become on our everyday lives. I can't wait to play it!

5. Toothbrush holder. It has 4 holes in the top for 4 different toothbrushes. I only have 1 toothbrush, so I think I might put other things in the 3 remaining holes, like one of those new cereal straws that are made out of cereal and you drink milk with them. The holder is a pleasant blue shade and has a nice little drain at the bottom so that bacteria and toothpaste gunk don't get trapped in there and get all over your toothbrush causing you to contract sars. Your mouth is like an oven where you cook bacteria, you know.

Music is Confusing Me

2008-03-15T00:16:00.004-04:00

okay, so this kid that I sit next to in class sent me a link to this music video of a Swedish duo called "Averni & Danny." This video is so confusing. I don't really understand what's going on. I'm sure you have all seen it before, but this is my first time ever seeing it, and my mind is still a little out of whack. While trying to watch it, it wasn't downloading properly so it just stopped at the same point and I didn't get to see the ending, which forced me to watch it over and over until I felt like I was a duck that just swalled a tablet of alka-seltzer. My thoughts on the concept of this video is that it's supposed to be a sort of futuristic "Grease," but futuristic turns into galactic disco, and "Grease" turns into creepy dudes with chest hair singing while the dancers perform the best choreography I've ever seen in my life. Here's the video:

Next point of business, song lyrics have just gotten ridiculous. That Fergie song where she states that "I'm gonna miss you like a child misses its blanket," is bad. What does that even mean? I don't know if I would want to be likened to a child's blanket. I mean, my family took away my brother's blanket and threw it in the fire. I don't want to be thrown in a fire! And then last night when I was driving home I heard a new song that makes the Fergie lyrics look like K-Fed in the Britney Spears v. K-Fed feud. The lyrics went something like, "You're like a tatoo. You're on my heart forever, and I'll never be able to get rid of you." Just awful. I guess it's nice that they're trying to create new analogies in love songs, but is that really creativity? I guess it's the new trend, or maybe this is what people felt like when Shakespeare and Pope started using roses and summer days as metaphors for beautiful women, or hearts as stones. Perhaps I just need to embrace the contemporary metaphoric use in poetry. Okay, maybe I shouldn't say that these songs are poetry. See what I mean, I'm so confused!

Duz God Likz Cheezburgerz?

2008-03-15T00:16:00.003-04:00

King James, The Living Bible, NIV, The Message, LOL Cat Version, New American Standard,...LOL Cat?

Just when you thought that they had translated the bible in every method possible to appeal to every kind of person, pop culture goes and does something extraordinary like this and changes the religious perspective of the collective whole. I have decided to trade in my NIV Student Bible for the new kitty pidgin translation (aka-lol cat language translation). There is a project out there where people are translating books of the the bible in the ever-growing, ever-elusive lol cat dialect. Here's the link:

teh holiez cheezburger bibul

Spoken as a true Evangelical Christian, I think this is a great way to win souls for Christ, and have fun while doing it. Okay, not really, but I do think that it's really funny. Job is really good...and so is Genesis and Revelation. I'm interested to see how they're going to translate Leviticus.

(I have to give credit to Jim Walsh for finding this project. Thanks, Jim!)

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

2008-03-15T00:15:00.004-04:00

Today during Torts I was on the BBC website when I saw the headline, "Gay Bomb wins the Ig Nobel Prize." Apparently some scientist created a bomb that when dropped o the enemy makes them irresistable to one another and they turn away from their guns and masculinity and become homosexuals on the battlefield. I thought about the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy and how that would work out after the effects of the bomb started to wear off and all of these men found themselves all cuddled up to one another in their bunks in the platoon. Then I thought of this funny thing the girl that cut my hair said to me. "The hardest part of buying rollerblades is telling your parents you're gay." I then pictured all of these enemy combatants skating around on rollerblades, because what is more gay than rollerblades. They'd be all skating around...like as soon as the bomb drops rollerblades just magically appear because somehow those blades knew that those soldiers had the desire to roll. But what do they do about women in the army? Do they feel the bomb too? I wonder if women are immune to the effects of the gay bomb. It mentioned nothing of this.

I think this is an interesting way to spread peace and love around the world...gay, man-lovin, rollerbladin love.

Lots of Little Stories

2008-03-15T00:15:00.003-04:00

This weekend my mom tried to cheer me up by telling me how my grandma "used to" be the biggest bitch in the world. I quotified "used to" because my grandma can still be kind of a bitch, but in a good way. Mom said she got better once she found Jesus. She told me this story of how my grandma got really mad at people cutting through her yard to get to Northcrest shopping center which was located directly behind my grandparents house. One time this woman with a baby stroller cut through their yard and my grandma went out on the porch and started yelling. When the woman and the baby ignored her, my grandma went and grabbed the hose, turned the nozzle, and hosed down the woman and the baby. Thank God she found Jesus.

My friend Mike came to visit this weekend. He and I had some great times in London together. I honestly think it was fate that we were in London at the same time in the same education program. He and I just click, and it's not one of those friendships where you need to be around each other and hanging out constantly to have anything to talk about. Mike and I were sharing homeless people stories when he said, "you know, I feel like I was way more sympathetic to homeless people in London than here at home. I mean, the homeless in London really seemed homeless. I mean, I remember one guy that didn't even have a foot." This made me laugh a lot. Mike has a different kind of logic than anyone I've ever met, and I love him for it.

Last week we had another fire drill at law school. I had left to get lunch at Bloomingfoods and when I came back everyone was standing outside of the building, so I went and sat on the stone wall across from Dagwood's and ate my veggie delight. While I was sitting there this guy rolled by on his bike, turned to look at me, and said, "Fire drill?" "Yep," I responded with a half-masticated biteful of herb cream cheese, red onion and wheat bread pressed up against my cheek. He just shook his head and pushed out his breath in a perturbed manner. He never once stopped pedaling or riding on his bike, which made the whole transaction incredibly funny to me. I don't know why.

Last wednesday I went out to lunch with one of my professors. He's the professor that looks like the bad Nazi in "Raiders of the Lost Ark." (are there any good Nazi's? Why did I feel the need to specify "bad") The lunch date started with my fellow student Henry and I analyzing the sex of the robot that decorated the table. "Well, it's pink, which would suggest that it's female, and there's a baby robot next to it which points to the maternal instinct of the robot." "Ahh, but there's a tool in its hand...what do you say to that?" This lasted for quite some time. Then some of the girls started talking about their favorite kinds of alcohol. "I love grey goose martinis." "I love wine." "Me too!" "I love drinking red wine in the winter time by the fire." "I love white 'zin.'" Then I decided to join the conversation. "I like the wine that comes in the box." Yet another conversation I have killed in my law school career. Then I decided it was time to talk to my professor. That was the whole reason I was there anyway. "Professor Gjerdigan, what do you think about making a tort comic book?" That's what I asked him. I thought it was a great idea, and surprisingly, so did he. He then went on to talk to me about what a tort music video would look like. (this made no sense to me. a comic book is understandable because it makes sense to draw the stories in 6-panel form, but a tort music video? where would you get the song? what would happen? I didn't get it) So, I've decided that I'm going to make a tort comic book. I'm thinking about calling it "A Comic Book of 'Torts'" playing off of a comic book of "sorts." It needs work, I know. I welcome any suggestions.

I think that within one weekend my political ideologies have polarized to the complete opposite side of the spectrum. I'm finding myself believing in more liberal policies. I don't know if it's the legal education that's having this liberal effect on me or what. Perhaps it's that I'm realizing that it's more probable for a liberal policy to succeed than my illogical application of Libertarian policies. While I feel that the Libertarian philsophy is what the founders had in mind for this country, I think we've strayed too far from the original intent and have abandoned all hope of ever achieving a Libertarian state. I'm thinking I'm going to support Hillary. I like her.

Last night I watched some episodes of "Stella." I love it. I also watched "The Squid and The Whale." I love it. I'm also starting to love little kids. I used to hate them because I didn't know how to talk to them, but now I understand that it doesn't matter what you say. They don't care. And, they're way more interesting than any adult I've talked to in the past 6 months, or even one of my peers. I'm at school. I need to do work. Have you heard the new Kanye? I think I'm in love. I also saw that he's blogging now.

On BBC they reported that Nike has now made a shoe specifically for Native Americans. These shoes are supposed to work for the Native American foot, which is wider than the normal foot. I believe they're called the "Air Native," or "N7" for short. ?? I saw a picture of them and they looked like something Joey Gladstone wore on Full House. They're solid white with hints of neon lime green. There may even be a feather on the tongue of the shoe that you can pump.

Law School High

2008-03-15T00:14:00.001-04:00

Yesterday in the middle of Crim Law we had a fire drill. It was funny watching everyone react. No one had taken part in a fire drill since high school, which for some was over 15 years ago. Some people just sat there, others tried to save their lap tops from the ensuing threat that all of their case briefs might go up into flames. My professor just shut his book, mumbled something, and inconspicuously walked out of the room down the side aisle. It made me laugh really hard watching him. Probably because he's this genius that helped Rehnquist write his opinion in Roe v. Wade and he is now partaking in a fire drill. I could just see him having to cross his arms over his chest like we had to do in elementary school. Once we got outside, it felt just like high school. People started smelling smoke in the air due to the influence of the surrounding elements. The big red fire truck pulled up in front of the building. We started referencing a tort case that we had studied earlier in the semester where some girls were lighting paper towels on fire in the bathroom which led to the entire school burning down. Perhaps a student was a kinesthetic learner? Some started freaking out about their homework, as they hadn't backed up their computers since the weekend, others thought about ditching class and getting a beer. We were talking about this smell that's been in Peru and killing animals and making people sick. It came from the atmosphere, and I suggested that the smell was alien farts.

My Professor, the one who clerked for Rehnquist, told us about a Christmas revue he and Rehnquist put together complete with song and dance numbers, but Chief Justice Burger didn't like it so he punished Rehnquist by making him write the opinion of an Indian Tax case. I started doodling the other day, and drawing my professors. My one professor looks like the bad guy from Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark. He even has a fedora that he wears.

This morning I woke up at 7am and checked my email before heading off to class. I found there an email stating that my 8am was cancelled. It was like when you wake up early to watch the ticker on the news to see if you had a 2-hour delay. I miss that emotion you felt when you saw your school district scroll across the tv. This was my lucky day.

Yesterday I had 2 weird homeless people experiences. First: I was walking home and past by the public library. I was wearing a shirt that said, "No one can make your dreams come true (on the front) but you! (on the back)." This homeless guy popped out of nowhere and just stares at me and yells, "NO..." He was trying to read my shirt. I didn't know if I should stop and let him read it as an inspiration to him, or if that would completely backfire, seeing as he was homeless." Luckily, he ran into a woman and I picked up my pace. About a block after that I saw another homeless man listening to his walkie-talkie and singing when all of the sudden he just puked right on the sidewalk. I swallowed down my gag reflex and just kept walking. Luckily, Becky Drolen pulled up and saved me. Who knows what I would've run into next.

One More Reason to go to Wal-Mart After Midnight

2008-03-15T00:13:00.004-04:00

The other night some friends were talking about how you sometimes just get the urge to go to Wal-Mart just because you can. This urge is intensified in the early morning or late night hours, however you prefer to look at time. In high school we used to go to the Wal-Mart to hang out because there wasn't much else to do after about 11pm. Little did I know that our Wal-Mart which we frequented was...HAUNTED.

That's right. The Wal-Mart in Ft. Wayne on Coldwater Rd. is haunted. I found out on a website after I was trying to find out the story of Devil's Hollow (another scary place in Ft. Wayne). So, here's the gist:

Around 3-4am in the morning, shoppers and workers have heard bagpipes playing a Scottish tune. Shortly after the song ends, a man in a green plaid-kilt appears and paces down the aisles and walks around the store. Apparently when he walks by you, you will get a cold, eerie feeling. But don't worry, this ghost is said to be friendly. (theshadowlands.net/places/indiana)

I guess I'm baffled as to how a Scottish bagpiper ended up in the Ft. Wayne Wal-Mart. Don't spirits usually haunt someplace that had a prominent role in their life or in their circumstances of death? Also, of all of my friday and saturday nights spent at Wal-Mart I never remember running into a Scotsman.

(sidenote: my high school, Carroll High School, was also on the list of haunted places in Indiana because of the junior year curse. This website stated that the ghosts of the juniors that were killed (that's the junior year curse--every year a junior was killed) would come back and haunt the school. The website tells a story of a kid that went to sit in the desk of a girl that was killed and he fell out onto the floor. When the teacher asked him if he was okay he said no...he didn't fall, he was pushed. I never heard anything of the sort in my 4 years of school there.)

Splish Splash

2008-03-15T00:13:00.003-04:00

I think that you can tell a lot about your current place in and outlook on life by looking at your bathing patterns. I started thinking about this application while walking to class this morning, not having taken a shower and forgetting to put on deoderant.

Bathing, Its Role, & Your Life (in particular, my life)
Baby/Toddler stage--strictly for photo ops, because that's all you're good for at this stage...being cute and splashing around in a tub, or sink, or bucket, or wherever your parents/grandparents think it would be funny to put you.

Ages 3-5--still tubbing it up. Mostly serves the purpose of extension of playtime, while you learn to hold your breath under the shallowest amount of water possible and play with that cool happy meal toy that you got because it was advertising the movie "Hook." This was a chance to escape and ultimately defy authority, as you continuously sat there watching your hands prune up while your mother protested that you were wasting her time, and that your skin would persist to look like a box of raisins if you didn't get out of the tub right this instance.

Ages 7-11--this is sort of a transitional stage. You find yourself starting to progress into the more adult realm of showers rather than baths. This is also the stage where the identity of the smelly kid starts to surface. At this stage I refused to take a shower because I was scared that Pennywise of Stephen King's "It" was going to come out of the drain and kill me. This is a very scary and self-conscientious time of your life as kids start to make fun of you for packing your lunch and for playing on the monkey bars instead of the gliding/sliding thing that transported you from one end to the other with little to no effort. You're scared of embracing the world of adolescence that confronts you just as you're scared to leave behind your fun in the tub surrounded by toys and instead pick up a bar of soap.

Ages11-14--you're so lost that you just give up on hygiene all together. You have no idea what's going on in your life, as every last bit of innocence is lost to puberty. At this stage I hardly showered and only washed my hair in the kitchen sink after eating a bowl of cereal for breakfast and before running out to catch the bus. The only reason I did this was to appear as though I kept up good-hygiene. I wasn't too smart as I didn't realize that people would be able to detect my nastiness from the smell that followed me around. I think this shows how confused you can get during this time of your life, and how your perceptions of yourself and your world are completely wrong.

Ages15-18--image is everything. After being made fun of for being gross for ages 11-14 you decide it's time to change. After all, you're in high school now. Fresh start. You wake up at 5.30am so that you have time to blow dry and style your hair. For me, this routine lasted for about 1 year. I still woke up at 5.30am after my mom or dad would come in and wake me up, but then I would proceed to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and fall asleep on the bathroom floor instead of actually taking a shower. At this time in your life you hide everything from your parents, and try to keep everything from being exposed. Your parents don't need to know who you have a crush on, that you drank some of Mrs. Ramsay's vodka on friday night, or that you're not going in to school early on wednesday to work on homework but rather because you got a detention for making fun of the substitute teacher.

Ages19-22 (these will be treated independently for me..a lot went on during the college years for me)

Age 19--freshman year & dorm life. You don't shower until the weekend, and you dred doing it. It's a miserable experience. The nasty shower curtain attacks you, you have to wait in line, your flip flops never stay on your feet and you constantly lose balance. You can't leave any of your showering supplies in the shower. At this time I was majorly depressed and hated life. I had just left everything I knew, and nothing was permanent in my life. Being clean was too optimistic, and forced me to think well on my life, which I didn't want to do.

Age 20--sophomore year & apartment dwelling. You have your own bathroom, and your life is more stable. You decide it's time to change your life. You shower on a regular basis and actually start respecting yourself. I mean, you're 20...no longer a teenager. I had short hair, which for some reason increased the frequency of showers for me. Showering became an identity thing, and was a way to wash off that depression and bad gunk from freshman year.

Age 21--junior/senior year & real life. You start to realize that your undergraduate career is over, and you're ready to experience "life". You take showers to emit your professionality, but when you're not having to keep up appearances you rough it, traveling, drinking, staying up late, doing a lot of outdoorsy things, etc. I went to London, and through the week I went to classes and worked at a political lobbyist firm. Showering was a duty; it was treated as another part of my job. But on weekends I would be out traveling to other countries and cities and would stay in a hostel or some rugged place and would be too busy to care about being clean. Showering just got in the way of life.

Age 22--law school & relaxation. You're too busy in life. You have no time for yourself. You've started making a dent in your future and realize that in search of your personal success you lost your life. Taking a shower is a luxury. You look forward to it because it's the one place where you can be by yourself and the immediate threat of your future can't reach you until you've crossed the threshold of the shower curtain or tub base. I come home from a long day of being shut in the law library or classrooms with stuffy old men, sniffly sick students, and teacher's pets and all I want to do is turn in my 2 weeks and quit this life. But then I take a shower and sing to my heart's content and don't worry about the water bill because my landlord pays for it. Law can't find me in the shower. Life can't find me in the shower.

Love at First Sound

2008-03-15T00:12:00.004-04:00

After last night's VMA's I was feeling a little down about the current state of music video production and how much it has digressed over the years. The videos that won were either incredibly bland or incredibly tacky. And that judgment is based strictly from the 15 second blurb that was shown during the awards ceremony to inform people of the nominated videos. I had honestly never seen any of the videos that were nominated, let alone any other music video made within the past 3 years.

I decided to get on youtube to try and make the insatiable desire for quality music videos, like A-Ha's "Take on Me," or any Foo Fighter video, subside. I typed in Michel Gondry's name because I absolutely love his work. He's a genius. A cinematic John Cage. I watched some videos he made for Chemical Brothers, Bjork, Daft Punk, Massive Attack, The White Stripes, and Kylie Minogue. All amazing. I would highly recommend the video for Chemical Brother's "Star Guitar." Anyway, following the modern-day internet-surfing routine, I then went to wikipedia to learn about other music videos Michel Gondry produced/made/whatever. I saw "Oui Oui" listed a few times so I clicked on it. Turns out it was the band that Gondry was apart of in the 80's. I looked them up on youtube and I instantly fell in love. There have been quite a few things that have been changing my life lately--ginseng gum, Jenn Jameson's word abbreviations--and now Oui Oui.

Their album is out of print and I have yet to find a source that has anything related to Oui Oui for sale. If you come across anything, please let me know!

Here are the videos on youtube:

Bippity, Boppity, Boooo

2008-03-15T00:12:00.003-04:00

One of my friends said they were shopping for princess accessories for a 3 year-old girl. I said that they should buy a wand. Wands are not particularly princess gear. Princesses are more tiaras/crowns, jewels, high heel shoes, puffy dresses, and make-up. Wands are for the people that allow for the princesses to acquire all of this "goodness." Wands are for the fairy godmothers.

I guess I suggested the idea of a wand because when I was a young lass I preferred the wand over the tiara. I always wanted to be the fairy with the magical powers. I always related better to the fairies rather than Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty in Disney movies. Now that I'm an old lass I'm starting to realize that my patterns as a child were only setting up for what my future was supposed to be. I'm not supposed to get a makeover. I'm not supposed to be the damsel in distress. I'm not supposed to get the guy. I'm not supposed to live happily ever after. I'm supposed to make it so that everyone else can achieve all of these things. I am, in essence, supposed to be a fairy godmother to others. With the wave of my wand and a wonderfully choreographed song and dance number that Julie Andrews would die for I will make everyone else's lives better.

But I don't think that the princesses truly understood how hard it is to watch everyone else be happy while you're stuck being a sort of figment of people's imaginations. You don't really even exist when you're a fairy godmother. I guess this is the part of the fairy godmother lifestyle that I need to work on. How did they do it? Didn't they ever feel resentment towards these beautiful young girls and wonder why no one ever popped out of thin air to perform magic tricks and set them up on a blind date that was more successful than an eharmony personality match up test? I suppose all of these fairies were so doped up on anti-depressants and sedatives that they just didn't even care anymore (case in point, Fawny the green fairy in "Sleeping Beauty").

I realize that all of the opportunities in my life have been to help me build up my skills so that I can work magic in other people's lives, and ultimately I wouldn't be happy doing anything less. So why can't I be like Cinderella's Fairy Godmother with all of her jollyness and rosy cheeks? I guess Tinkerbell had quite a bit of resentment towards Wendy--but she still helped her because she knew Peter loved Wendy and good ole Tink wanted Peter to be happy regardless of if it meant she would be miserable. And Merriweather, the blue fairy in "Sleeping Beauty" gives me hope that I do have what it takes to be a fairy godmother while still embracing the pessimism and sarcasm that God has so bountifully blessed me with.

Duelling Banjoes

2008-03-15T00:11:00.004-04:00

It has come to my attention that the authority of the "Honda Guy" is in question. For those of you who are not from Bloomington, let me explain.

For the past few years there have been multiple sightings (actually they are very hard to avoid) of an older gentleman that cruises down Kirkwood, up 4th St., sometimes hits up 6th St, and comes back around to Kirkwood in his maroon Honda Accord while listening to TuPac or some other early 90's rap music while wearing a cut off or A-Tee in particularly bright colors. Normally, these sightings occur on weekends during the afternoon, or late at night when the IU student populace is lined up outside of Nick's waiting to play Sink the Biz. There is an entire facebook group dedicated to said "Honda Guy" because people have become so obsessed with him and the mystery that follows him, ironically like a man in a honda.

Lately it seems that there is a new kid in town and he's definitely ready for a challenge. His name? Ken Nunn, attorney at law. Not only is his face on the back of every phone book issued in Monroe County and on numerous billboards in town, but he has decided to take it to the streets in his cherry red convertible mercedes-benz accessorized with a novelty plate with his name "Nunn." (I feel like he may have even thrown a "z" on the end just to make it more ghetto.) Ken Nunn, attorney at law, has been driving around the square and it seems as though he is on the tip of everyone's tongue. Now, I don't know if this is because I'm starting to recognize him more because of all of the buzz he creates in the halls of the law school or if it is truly because he is becoming more popular than the Honda Guy. I have spotted Kenn Nunn, attorney at law, 2 times within this first week of classes; Honda Guy, zero. People have texted me when they experience a "Nunn Sighting." I've heard no word of anyone encountering the Honda Guy. No one in the law school even knows who I'm talking about.

(sidenote: I just looked over and the guy in the carell next to me is playing solitaire. That makes me feel so much better.)

Perhaps it is too soon for the Honda Guy to come out of his summer hybernation. I have this feeling that when he does surface again, there's going to be a battle over the turf of the downtown area comparable to the rumbles between the greasers and socs, the Hatfield's and McCoy's, and dare I say the Jets and the Sharks.

An Addendum

2008-03-15T00:11:00.003-04:00

I hope that you all read my last entry and realize how incredible God is, and how we can never predict or understand what He's doing, but in the end it will all make sense. (so cliche, I know) I know that the call I received was something God had up his sleeve, or behind my ear. God knows me well enough that He knew that if I would have known for the entire summer that I was going to law school I would have been a bundle of angst and I would've had to call the ol' psychiatrist for a boost in meds. I don't know what direction I'm going to head with this whole law school education, or whether or not I will even still be in law school this time next year, but I'm not worried because I know whatever is supposed to happen will happen and I have no control over it because I don't want to have control over it. It's more fun when God's doing all the controlling...it's kind of like a goodie bag, and I love goodie bags.

Maglock

2008-03-15T00:10:00.004-04:00

So, here's a story for you.

I had just finished working a 13 hour day at Bloomingfoods and was driving over to work on a plum-wasabi salsa for the salsa competition here in town. I was working hard for the money. I decided to lie down on the couch for awhile to rest my paws before Jim and I began to give our best impersonations of the people on Top Chef. I would be dicing those tomatoes faster than the time it took them to film "High School Musical: 2," and Jim would have that whole wrist action down when sauteing the plums. We were in the middle of a conversation about knowing what we wanted from our lives when my phone rang. It was a 317-number that I didn't recognize, so out of curiosity I picked it up...and I never pick up my phone. When I answered there was this crazy voice that was twangy and yet professional at the same time.

"I'm looking for a Maggie Paino."
"This is she."
"This is Dean Long from IU law school. Ya still want to do to law school?"
(uncontrollable laughter from my line) "Are you serious?"
"I'm dead serious. You start monday."
"Whoa. I was totally not expecting this."

I had to let him know by 9.00am the next morning. I had less than 12 hours to make a decision about the next 3 years of my life. And 3 minutes before I had everything in my life sorted out and put into little organizational bins like you buy at Target in the home office section. Working at Bloomingfoods was in the paper clip holder with the magnet that makes it easy to get a hold of those pesky things, grad school in education was the pencil holder, moving to a big city and teaching inner city high schoolers was the tape dispenser, painting my house and buying cool clothes from anthropologie was the stapler, and the whole family thing was the 3-tiered document holder. There were no more desk paraphenelia to represent law school.

I spewed out more explicatives individually and in unique phrases that I had no idea I was capable of producing. I sent out text messages to everyone in my phone trying to see what they thought I should do. I called my parents and listened to them get parentally proud on the other line. I received numerous recalls from my dad singing something along the lines of "Maggie got into law school." Poor Jim and Torlando had to sit there and watch my anxiety reach levels that no drug could repress. I wanted to eat. I needed to eat. So we packed up and went to Steak N' Shake. I got a hot fudge brownie sundae, which they don't even bother including in the Weight Watchers pointsfinder booklet.

The next morning I woke up around 7.00am and called Dean Long.
"Hi Dean Long, this is Maggie Paino returning your call from last night. I would love to take you up on that offer."
"Great. See you monday."

So, now I'm a law student. I have sold my soul to academia and my income for the next 15 years to SallieMae. The first day I was talking to some kid and told him about just finding out about law school 3 days prior to the commencement of class and he looked at me and said in his best attempt at a smug lawyer voice, "Well, we're glad to have you here." This completely irked me. A fellow student speaking on behalf of the faculty and staff of IU law school. What the hell was that? "Oh God, please don't let everyone here be a lawyer." Unfortunately, about 95% of my fellow students are just that...or at least on their way to being the biggest assholes you'll ever meet. I think I'm just going to make friends with my professors, because it seems as though they are just as disgusted by these individuals as I am. Everything is about oneupmanship. One kid has a laptop that can cause a solar eclipse when opened, and when he doesn't need it anymore it turns into a briefcase. The environment has made me want to become this extreme version of myself that is so far out there asthetically, intellectually, and artistically. It's not that I want to stick it to the man; I want to stick it to my peers.

Besides the people, law school has so far been the best academic experience I've ever taken part in. I've only been in class for a week and a half and already I notice my mind processing things in a completely different way than it has for the past 22 years. I'm learning Latin, I'm realizing that (almost) everything can be proven right or wrong depending on how you want it to be, and I'm learning about what I don't want to be when I grow up, or now.

It's Motivational. Period.

2008-03-15T00:10:00.003-04:00

I was in my room on the computer. My roommates were dallying on their own computers. I checked to make sure that they were glued to their computer screens or asleep or listening to some tunes so as they wouldn't notice me walking through the common area with my feminine product which would be accompanied by a feeling of awkwardness rushing through their entire beings (which usually presents itself when the male species encounters pads and/or tampons, and even midol). I got into the bathroom when I noticed that the plastic wrapping that holds the tampon had some writing on it, so I decided to spend some time reading it before discarding it.

"Have you been working out?"

That's what my tampon asked me. I then found myself responding to the tampon.

"Well, of course I haven't been working out. I mean, you should know this. If I'm associating myself with the likes of you, tampon, then that means that the only thing I can fit into are elasticized, my ovaries just commenced round 6 of their ultimate fighting match, I'm more bloated than Liz Taylor, and I'm in the process of polishing off a quart of pumpkin pie ice cream, after which I will be eating an entire loaf of bread with butter. Way to kick me when I'm down, tampon."

I reached an all new low during the time of the month that produces nothing but low self-esteem and pessimism.

I decided to check out the rest of my tampons, just to make sure I wouldn't have another spat with a plastic applicator. And what did I find? The cheesiest motivational statements ever...even cheesier than those posters in your high school pre-calculus classroom with monkeys surrounded by flowers or hugging a cat. "Luck is a matter of believing"; "Push yourself to the limit";"Go for your personal best"; "Stay focused on what matters most"; and my personal favorite,"Sports build character." Rather than encouraging me to go out and be active and "trust my tampon" (also one of the statements) I wanted to ring the doorbell of the company distributing this trash and kick them in the tibia, but I just didn't have the motivation to get out of my bed.

Incomplete Thoughts Written in Complete Sentences

2008-03-15T00:09:00.004-04:00

I currently have 7 books checked out from Monroe County Public Library. The books I have are "The First American: The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin" by H.W. Brands; "Forbidden Faith: The Gnostic Legacy" by Richard Smoley; "Foxe's Book of Martyrs" prepared by W. Grinton Berry; "Biloxi Blues" a play by Neil Simon; "The Dharma Bums" by Jack Kerouac; "The Complete Spice Book" by Maggie Stuckey; and "Moosewood Restaurant Book of Desserts" by the Moosewood Collective.

I really miss Kristin Peach.

The last 25-30 minutes of "Singin' in the Rain" are just as bizarre as the last hour of "Apocalypse Now."

Cincinnati Fire Kites are fun when they want to be. I like the way the newspaper looked when it was burning in the grass. It reminded me of earthworms.

I think I'm going to get a car. I am leaning towards a Ford Focus Station Wagon.

I had a sleepover with the smore-eating Rat King a few nights ago.

I miss landline telephones.

One of my students, Shakeel, is very funny.

When I was younger, I used to want to go to church solely for the "Praise & Worship" segment of the service because "it was more fun." Now I just want some good preachin'.

"A Goofy Movie" is a good movie.

I wish I were better at correspondence.

My grandma told me that one day she walked by a picture of my grandpa hanging on the wall and stopped and said, "Paul, you know I'm so mad at you. Why didn't you take me with you?"

Shakeel & Shikira Dialogue during tutoring:

Shikira: Man, I had the biggest roach in my room last night. This dorm always has the biggest damn roaches!

Shakeel: Naw, you ain't seen nothin'. Back home in the projects, a roach held me up.

Paul (other tutor): Held you up? What does that mean?

Shakeel: Yeah man. He just walked into the room and was like 2 feet tall. I just put my hands up and threw my wallet at him...said, "Here, just take it. I ain't even gonna fight you for it."

Paul, Maggie: HAHAHAHA

Shakeel: But we cool now. He came back like 2 days later and gave me my wallet back. No cash missin' at all.

Shikira: Shaq, you messed up man.

I need to do laundry, and I wish I had a faster metabolism.

Always a Guestbook Supervisor, Never a Bride

2008-03-15T00:09:00.003-04:00

This past weekend I headed back up to the Fort to attend one of the many 7/7/07 weddings across the country. It was a very pretty traditional wedding, and was buckets of fun and excitement as it was the first wedding I've attended where one of my friends got married. I felt like I was in the plane getting ready to sky dive, and I wasn't even the one getting married.

This got me thinking about my own wedding. Now, I've never really seen myself getting married, but I also like to be prepared in life. Therefore, I decided to put some consideration towards my wedding plans.

First things first, this will not be a traditional wedding. You will not have to sit through any sort of ceremony (unless you're family or the judge, because I'm afraid my grandma will have a kanipshick (spelling?) if I don't have some sort of formal declaration); just a party, in every sense of the term. My wedding will be a prom, partly due to the fact that I never had a real date to any of my high school dances (except for one Michael T. Vorick, who went with me in order to save me from going with the guy that had already asked 14 girls prior to me; and Ryan Lough who went with me because we were "best friends"), and partly because some of the best times of my life were on the dance floor at semiformal and prom. There will be dancing…oh yes, there will be dancing.

Pictures will be taken at my parent's house with disposable cameras. From there, my "date" and I will head towards the garage where my dad's freshly washed car will be sitting waiting to take us for a ride. The bridesmaids and groomsmen will actually be a part of the prom court (as will I and my date/husband, naturally), and will join the caravan of cars leaving my parent's house heading towards the Allen County Fairground building.

All guests will receive tickets rather than invitations, which must be presented in order to gain admittance to the prom wedding. Refreshments will include pie, cookies, those colorful mints that instantly dissolve in your mouth and have "butter" in the title, and punch that requires many 2 liters of 7up and lime/orange sherbet. No suspension or punishment will be issued if someone "spikes the punch."

There will be a photo station with plenty of fake plastic ivy and roman columns, where guests and their dates can get their picture taken. I have yet to decide whether or not there will be the option to get your picture taken with cardboard cutouts of my husband and me. Let me know how you feel about this.

About 2/3 of the way through the prom, the prom court will be introduced. I won't tell you who gets crowned King and Queen.

There will be no wedding music staples played over the speakers. That means no electric slide, no bad 70's (Brick House, etc), no Etta James' "At Last," and screened Frank Sinatra. You can count on KC & JoJo, The Darkness "I Believe in a Thing Called Love," Boys to Men, lots of Phil Collins, and many others.

As 7/7/07 was such a popular date, I tried to come up with another numerically cool date on which I could have my prom wedding. Some ideas were 01/23/45; 10/10/10; 86/75/309e-ine; and 11/15/13, but I came across a few flaws with these selected dates:
1. In 2045 I will be 60 years old. I don't want to have to wait that long to cash in my "V" card.
2. 10/10/10 is too similar to 7/7/07, and people might think I was copying their great idea. Plus it seems pretty soon.
3. 86/75/309e-ine doesn't exist on any calendar, eastern or western.
4. 11/15/13 is not in sequential order, which is part of its appeal, but may cause problems later in life as I recall the uniqueness of my anniversary is due to the fact that the date follows the order of odd numbers.

I have yet to come up with a theme for my prom wedding. Any and all suggestions are welcome. Don't think that just because this is not a traditional wedding that I'm throwing out the whole gift registry thing, because I'm not. That's like reason number 2 people get married. And, if I don't end up getting married before the age of 40, I will still be registering and having a prom…there just won't be a prom King.

All Signs Point East

2008-03-15T00:08:00.004-04:00

Last night I had a dream that Becky and I were planning a trip to Japan, which we would take in January. I remember feeling unconsciously excited about the trip outside of "Dream Maggie." Like, real life Maggie that was lying in bed comatose felt excitement. I think I even woke up with a grin on my face, like the one I had when I first got off the airplane, claimed my luggage, and hailed a cab outside of Heathrow. Also, Jim found another video of some Japanese game show which is just as ingenious as the Japanese Human Tetris Challenge I posted in my last blog. I think it's finally time for me to expand my travels outside of the occident and enter the world of the orient. I think I should brush up on my Edward Said first, though.

crazy cat/fish game

Japan Rocks

2008-03-15T00:08:00.003-04:00

I really really want to go to Japan...

Phillip Paino...If you Say it Fast Enough, it Sounds Like Phillipino

2008-03-15T00:06:00.002-04:00

When I was about 8 months old my dad was involved in a horrible car accident where his car ended up looking like an acordian with all of the air out of it. By the grace of God, dad made it through the accident but broke his spinal cord and became paralyzed from the waist down as a result of the collision. We have pictures of my dad recovering from his accident, which coincidentally can also be found under the category of "Maggie's baby pictures." When my dad got back from the hospital and started physical therapy, my grandpa had a miniature staircase built for my dad to practice walking. (If you've ever heard my dad preach, you've probably heard this story and I apologize for the repetitiveness) He was so down on himself and felt like he'd never walk again, until I came along as a baby and started crawling up those steps. Dad said that he told himself, "If my little baby girl can climb those steps, surely I can get off my butt and go up those stairs." And with that, I taught my dad how to walk. As I grew up dad slowly repaid me for teaching him how to walk by showing me how to live for Christ through honesty, compassion, and self-sacrifice. I've never known anyone as well-versed in theology as my dad...he's seriously the best bible teacher I've ever had the pleasure of learning from (sorry PauPau). He should be teaching at some first-rate seminary of sorts, and I'm not just saying that because he's my dad. It's true. When we were younger my parents decided that a good idea would be to have family nights every tuesday. It really wasn't a great idea because we really weren't a great family back then with me calling Anthony stupid and then Anthony punching Andrew and mom eating a whole bag of oreos. We would have devotions and whatnot and then go and play Bible Trivia. This board game placed you on the beams of a rainbow working your way through every color on the spectrum by answering different topical questions from the bible until you ultimately reached the dove holding an olive branch in the center of the board. All of us would play the easy cards and never get farther than yellow. Dad would play the hard and be done in about 7 turns. There was one time that we played and we asked dad a question, he gave his answer, and we all got excited because he got it wrong. "The card's wrong," dad casually responded like one of those people who make dinner and then shout out the answers to Jeopardy from the kitchen. So we looked it up in the bible and sure enough, the game creator and distributor had made an error.

Dad has never admitted to being perfect, and has definitely paid the consequences for being honest. Growing up he was never afraid to tell us all of the different mistakes he made in his life, as well as stories from his crazy college days and whatnot. This past January I flew out to San Francisco to visit law schools and see if it was where God wanted me to be for the next 3 years of my life. I called my dad at the end of one of my days on the town and asked him about the time in his life when he lived in San Fran. He always talked about how much he loved his time in San Francisco, so I thought it would be nice to learn a bit more about dad's life. "So, what neighborhood did you live in dad?" "I didn't. I lived on the streets and slept on the beach until I got picked up." "What!? I never knew that! The way you talk about San Fran and how great it was, I just assumed you lived in an apartment or something." "Nope, sure didn't. Actually, there was one time when I was on the street and I went in to a fast food restaurant where they gave me some crackers, ketchup (from the squirt bottle), and water. That was my meal for the day."

Dad taught me to keep smiling and laughing. If you know my dad, you know that he's always the life of the party. He can always make me laugh. He's like a little kid sometimes with his expressions of surprise. Oh, and he also loves to torture his kids in return for a good hearty laugh. Because of my dad's personality, we always have these wackos calling our house for advice or just to talk to my dad. There was this one guy who my dad pastored during the Adam's Apple revival in Ft. Wayne (where a bunch of hippies came to know the Lord) that still held on to one aspect of the Hippie lifestyle...pot (marijuana). He would always call when he was stoned, and most of the time my dad wouldn't answer forcing the man to leave messages on our machine that lasted for over an hour sometimes, and even mutiple messages in one sitting. But every once in awhile when dad felt really awnry (phonetic spelling) he would make my brothers or me answer the phone. (this was right after we got caller id). I had just gotten home from school and was in dad's room talking to him when the phone rang. I clumsily yelled the man's name to my dad, seeing if he wanted to talk to them. "Oh! You answer it, and tell him I can't get to the phone." This was usually a sign it was an important phone call. I'm not very good at talking on the phone, but I had a mission. I answered it. "Hello?" I said, opening my routine of "Dad can't get to the phone, can I take a message?" but I was instantly thrown off by the crazy voice on the other line shouting ingredients in my ear. "2 spoonfuls of honey. Sage leaves, chopped up. 4 shakes of tabasco sauce." The list went on and on. Stranded, I looked to my dad for help, but he just stood in the doorway laughing at me. I was stuck. I didn't know if I should start writing down the ingredients, ask him questions about the cooking process, or try to slip in my "dad can't get to the phone, may I take a message?" line during breaths (which were very few. I swear the man didn't gasp for air once). Finally, after about 3 1/2 minutes of ingredients, the under-the-influence man stopped abruptly and just hung up. Click. I felt like I just went through a black hole. "What was that!?" I exclaimed. Dad couldn't stop laughing. Finally, about 5 minutes later when he caught his breath and wiped his eyes, dad told me about the man. "Well, I talked to him earlier today and I told him I wasn't feeling so hot and he said he was going to call with a home remedy."

Dad always wanted us to be a perfect family. He never wanted us to be without, and tried to keep us as normal as possible in spite of our family dynamic. He taught me so much about what a family should be. My friends were always shocked at how much time we all spent together, and that we actually sat down every night and had dinner around a table, without tv, and with lots of interactive and thought-provoking discussion. On one occassion, dad arranged to take us to Disney World, which was a true sacrifice on behalf of my dad because he tried to walk with us throughout the park and at the end of the day his legs would be bleeding from his leg braces digging into his skinny, atrophied legs. When we first arrived at Disney World there was a driver at the airport to take us to our lodgings. While on the plane, dad sat next to some Disney conosseiur who told him the history of Walt and Roy and the Magic Kingdom. Dad was very intrigued by the fact that Walt first drew Mickey Mouse on a trainride. As we circled the entire Disney community in the car and we all gazed with gawking expressions of amazement dad decided to take advantage of the moment and use his newly acquired knowledge to make a profound statement to confirm his patronage status. Dramatically, he gathered our attentions away from Cinderella's castle and the EPCOT globe. "And to think this all started with a man...on a train...drawing a picture...of a monkey." After he said it he looked out the window, contented by his deep reflection on imagination and entrepreneurship. "Mouse." We heard from the front seat. "It was a mouse, Mr. Paino," said the driver. Dad snapped out of his pensive stare. "Excuse me?" "You said monkey. Mickey is a mouse."

I love my dad. He's always been there to fight for me when there's something that I believe is worth fighting for and I'm not strong enough to carry the burden alone. He's there to sing the male parts in the duet songs. He's there to listen to my stories at the dinner table when my brothers dominate the conversation. He's there to remind me that I'm his daughter. He's there to encourage me to follow my dreams rather than leading a lifestyle that others want me to live. He's there to comfort me and let me know that he loves me no matter what I do. He's there to encourage me in my walk with God. He's the Winston Churchill calling me over the phone saying, "Never, never, never give up." He's there to sing me the "Animal Fair" song. I've never been so proud of someone else as I am of my dad. I'm sure there are other great dad's, but I'm pretty biased and spoiled.

S'more Ingredient Update

2008-03-15T00:05:00.004-04:00

I just spoke to Jim about the missing marshmallows. He didn't eat them. Stacie then came down stairs and I asked her if she knew what happened to the mallows. She had no idea. This sparked quite the forensic search in our kitchen, and made me feel as though more attention needed to be given to the situation rather than just mentioning that they've (marshmallows) disappeared and not question how such an occurence happened.

Background: Last night, while watching Freaks and Geeks with Jim, I decided to make myself a s'more in the microwave. We had lots of leftover s'more ingredients from camping, so I figured it'd be a good idea to make a dent in the amount of grahams, mallows, and choco bars. I used 1/2 of a hershey's chocolate bar, 1 graham cracker sheet, and 1 marshmallow. All of the supplies were in a green plastic bowl that usually sits on our dining room table. When I left I considered returning the bowl to the dining room table, but then I figured it would be okay in the kitchen...I mean, it was food. I left behind about 2/3 of a bag of large-sized marshmallows, 1 packet of graham crackers with about 5 sheets left, the other 1/2 of my choco bar, as well as about 5 whole unwrapped hershey's bars. This morning I woke up and the entire bag of marshmallows was empty. No remnants anywhere. Later, I realized that all of the graham crackers, which were placed in a ziploc bag so as to avoid staleness, were missing.

About 1:00pm, 10 June 2007: After Jim and I returned from church I asked him if he ate the marshmallows. He said no. I then proceeded to question Stacie, who worked the night shift last night and returned around 7am this morning. She said no. We inspected the crime scene, and I went on to find the missing ziploc of graham crackers...empty. It was resting in the gap between the countertop and the stove. The chocolate bars went untouched. There were no crumbs. The bag of marshmallows was not all torn up, and resting just as it was the night before sans mallows. The graham cracker sleeve was still puffed up as if the graham crackers were still in there.

The crime scene led us to consider a few different possibilities, as well as possible points to disprove these theories:

1. We have a rat, or a mouse, or many rats and mice. Problems with this theory: The bowl never moved. If it was a mouse or rat they would've had problems getting into the bowl and then keeping it steady and not flip it or knock it off of the countertop (see picture below). Also, there were no crumbs in sight. A rodent would leave behind a trail of something.

2. Either Jim or I sleptwalked last night. I think it was Jim because he watched me make a s'more and subconsciously wanted one too, but didn't act. Therefore his desire for a s'more manifested itself during a sleepwalking fit.

3. The soul of Kristin Peach is still living in our house and it was hungry. The fact that only the marshmallows and the graham crackers were gone led us to believe that the culprit was lactose-intolerant, since the milk chocolate bars went untouched. Kristin, did you feel bloated this morning?

4. Somehow Mike Dixon broke into our house, while asleep, and on finding that we had no popcorn in the cupboard went for the most accessible food product, which would be the s'more ingredients as they were sitting right on the counter. If not Mike, then someone on ambien.

If anyone has any other possible scenarios in the case of the missing mallows, please share.

picture 1: crime scene with empty marshmallow bag
picture 2: crime scene. note the empty ziploc baggie in the back. that was the home of the graham crackers
picture 3: Jim holding the empty ziploc, graham cracker bag with the plastic wrapping inside, still inflated. No way it was a mouse
picture 4: the untouched chocolate bars

Speeding, S'mores, & Snakes

2008-03-15T00:05:00.003-04:00

Friday night I went to Indianapolis to pick up Becky from the airport. I pulled out of our lot, stopped at the light on Walnut & 10th, messed with my cassette of the "Dirty Dancing" soundtrack to cue up "She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze, and then headed on my way down the one-way street. I got to the new CVS when all of the sudden red and blue lights started flashing. Now, I assumed that he must have made a mistake, seeing as the car in front of me was going faster than me. But alas, I pulled over to the left side of the road to make a path for the officer and he ended up following me to that particular spot rather than proceeding down the cleared road. The only other time I've been pulled over was because the cop just wanted to talk, so I really didn't know what to do, and on top of that I was really getting into the Swayze song...hitting all of the high notes and such. I didn't even ask the officer what I did or anything. I just sat there. Soon there was another cop car that pulled up behind me. Now, is this really necessary? I didn't think so, which sparked a laughter in my belly to arise and vocalize itself. I was later issued a warning for going 40mph in a 30mph zone, expressed my apologies, and went on my way. Here's my warning:

Due to the large amounts of marshmallows, graham crackers, and hershey's chocolate bars currently in our cupboard, I decided to make a s'more for my 10.30 snack last night. I left all of the supplies by the microwave after I finished bloating up the mallow in the microwave. When I woke up this morning and headed down to the kitchen to pour myself a bowl of cereal I noticed that the full bag of marshmallows had been substituted with an empty bag of air. Now, granted marshmallows at their most basic form are simply air with some sugar thrown in the mix, but this bag lacked the necessary glucose to emit any mallow. They were all gone. We must have a mallow snatcher; or marshmallows just disintegrate if you don't seal the bag appropriately...vacuum pack it like mom used to make me do when I would pack socks and underwear for trips. I'm sharing this so that all of you campers are weary to the circumstances surrounding the existence of marshmallows. Also, if anyone finds a gang of mallows running the streets of Bloomington reaking havoc, please call. They're lost and confused.

Last night we decided to use up some of the fireworks I bought at Kroger the other day. What is it about explosives and the eminent threat of acquiring third degree burns or yet, dying, that is so appealing? Granted, I didn't have any big fireworks...just sparklers, snakes, ground blooming flowers, whipper snappers, and smoke balls. Jim really liked the smoke balls. We played a round of 4-square with a smoke ball lit in the middle of the court. It added a dramatic element that was missing from the game. It instantly became more intense, and similar to a WWF main event. Next came the snakes. Snakes are always such a disappointment, but they're pretty much a staple in the firework world and a mandatory buy. We piled them all into one big heep of snakes and it looked like hell was having a bowel movement. The label said that you shouldln't put them in your mouth, but I started to think about how cool this would look to just have streams of black ash billowing out of your mouth. I have a feeling it's going to be the new pea soup. The label seemed to act in a contradictory manner than it was meant to be, really. I would never have thought to put snakes in my mouth unless the label told me it wasn't recommended.

Sidenote: I risked my life for the sake of the 4-square ball last night after Jared, in an attempt to "save" the ball, swatted it directing into the street. Seeing as I have no reflexes (medically tested and proven) I watched the entire happening, then decided to lunge into the street after the ball, all the while watching a car inch closer and closer. By the time I finally jetted into the street, the car was closer than row houses in Philadelphia. I saved it, and Jared hid behind our newly acquired dumpster.

Country Grammar

2008-03-15T00:04:00.004-04:00

It has come to my attention that I say a certain phrase that doesn't make grammatical sense on any level. Said phrase is "A whole nother," as in, "There's a whole nother bottle of squeezable grape jelly in the fridge." I don't know if this is a phrase that I've just invented, inherited from my family, or if it's part of my hooiser heritage, but somewhere along the line I began using it on a day-to-day basis. In spoken, verbal form the phrase "a whole nother" seems to make sense for whatever reason and no one really questions the blatant grammatical slip-up, but once you consider the spoken in written form you realize that "nother" isn't really a word and the word "another" is meant to be divided into "an" and "other," not "a" and "nother." "Nother" isn't a free-standing word...it must be prefaced by "A whole." Does this bother anyone else?

Okay...so I went to dictionary.com and there's an entry for "nother." It's defined as an alteration, due to misdivision of another, of other and is used in informal prose. This makes me feel a little better about using the grammatically awkward phrase in colloquial speech, but I suppose I should refrain from including it in any future papers, books, or presidential speeches I write.

Speaking of presidential speeches, I would like to direct everyone to the website of presidential hopeful Representaive Ron Paul of Texas. Rep. Paul is a Republican candidate, and by far the best overall candidate running for president. He is a former Libertarian who had to compromis his party alignment due to the two-party system, but that's a whole nother story. Regardless, he still holds true to his values concerning limited government, and holds an anti-war position. He has quite the political track record, and is just adorable. Anyways, here's his website. Check him out. And if you live in Iowa or New Hampshire, consider giving him your vote in the primaries.

Ron Paul 2008

Just a Bunch of Scribbles

2008-03-15T00:04:00.003-04:00

Last night I had this dream where I was eating all of these different kinds of food that the orthodontist tells you not to eat when you have braces. After I was done eating there was tons of pressure built up in between my teeth, and all I wanted to do was floss. I found some floss in a cup holder of this mini van that I was seated in and I tore off a piece of minty disney floss. I wrapped the floss around my fingers so as to have more control over the process. The thing was, I couldn't reach the blockage in between my teeth. No matter how hard I tried, the floss just wouldn't be able to get around the particle. I've never been so annoyed and anxious in my life.

When Stacie and I got back from camping saturday morning I had a packet from Golden Gate University School of Law. Seeing as it was a large envelope rather than a business-size envelope, I suspected that I had been accepted. I only opened it to boost my self-esteem, but then after I read past the "congratulations, you're in" lines, I found that I had been awarded with a scholarship that would virtually pay for 2/3 of my entire legal education. Once again, my entire world has been turned upside down. I thought I was finally headed in the right direction, but once the factor of money came into play everything went awry. It's funny how God does this crap to you, just to mess with you. It's kind of like a pop quiz in 8th grade history class that Mr. Green would issue to test your knowledge of the transcontinental railroad. Usually at this point I would be having panic attack after panic attack and eating triscuits saturated in squirt cheese, followed by a full carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and then wash it all down with 4 pints of beer ending the night with yet another "maggie peeing her pants" story. But the thing is, I've never felt so settled in my life. I know that it has to do with the fact that I've finally reached the point where I'm going to stop controlling my life and allow God to guide me. Since I know that whatever happens is what God wants to happen, I have a guarantee that it's going to be the right decision.

Speaking of 8th grade history class, I remember Mr. Green made us do a presentation on a figure in American history in front of the class. I chose to do Ronald Reagan, as any 8th grade hoosier native in their right mind would do. Actually, I only chose to present on Reagan because I had done a similar sort of presentation in 5th grade where I created a scrapbook of Reagan pictures, dressed up in cowboy attire, and acted like I was retired-Reagan on his ranch in California looking back on his life. At the end of the presentation, I acted like I heard Nancy in the distance ringing the triangle and calling me to dinner. Anyways, in 8th grade I tried to do a repeat of this presentation. I couldn't find the flannel I had worn 3 years prior, so I wore a blazer, collared shirt, and clip-on tie. I didn't tuck in my shirt because I still wanted to look half-way cool and not be made fun of my Jeff Jacobis, who for some reason always made fun of me even though he was a goofy bastard. I'm sure it had something to do with my collection of scooby-doo and fat albert t-shirts...I was ahead of my time. Anyways, I used the same album and the same notecards I made for my 5th grade presentation, but the mental state of Reagan had progressively gotten worse in regards to his Alzheimers and whatnot, which I decided not to address, because how would he be able to recall his past if he's suffering from Alzheimer's? Anyways, at the end of my presentation, people asked questions and then Mr. Green gave a run down assessment of my portrayal of Reagan.
"All in all, it was very good, Ms. Paino, but I don't think that President Reagan would make a public appearance without being sharply dressed and his shirt tucked in."
"Well, I forgot. I mean I thought we were supposed to remain in character, so I forgot."
Now, I thought this was a very clever comeback, and I think that it ultimately saved my grade.

When I went home to clean out my room and pack stuff up, I came across an old preschool evaluation. It evaluated things like knowing my name, cautious behavior with scissors and other sharp objects, and things of that sort. I noticed under the art section that the teacher included a sidenote that said, "Maggie really enjoys the art projects, and is very creative and imaginative compared to her fellow students." I decided that I need to get back to that person I was in preschool. I've suppressed my true interests for the sake of academia and intellectualism for the past 8 years, which isn't a bad thing, but there comes a point when your creativeness cannot be restricted anymore and you feel like you're going to implode or explode...just some sort of bursting. That's where I'm at right about now. I think I'm going to grab my charcoal set when I go home next so that I can have a creative outlet. I've been strongly considering scrapping the law school idea for right now and just writing a book or drawing or painting or acting or singing or something. I don't know. I just need to do something other than read books and articles and write papers and talk about congressional districts, immigration policy, and the Freudian interpretation of "Catcher in the Rye."

I think I'm going to go floss my teeth. I'm in need of a good teeth cleaning...like dentist office teeth cleaning.

Being Maggie Paino

2008-03-15T00:03:00.004-04:00

I've always had this fascination with looking up. I don't know what it is, and seems a bit uncharacteristic of a natural pessimist, but there's a certain feeling that comes from a different perspective. While in Prague my friend Darrell told me I needed to stop looking up at all of the buildings and trees and sky because it makes me a prime target for pickpocketers. The thing is I didn't care about being robbed. I would much rather lose everything and experience such beauty than be cautiously anticipating something and miss everything. When we drove through the redwoods last spring break I stood on the passenger seat with my head popping out of the sun roof just looking up at the sun peaking through the leaves and the raindrops bouncing off of the tree limbs and growing in size as they approached my cheek. Yesterday I laid on my back in the living room with my head rested on a 12-pack of charmin ultra, throwing a 4-square ball up in the air over and over. There's a different feeling that comes from throwing a ball while lying on your back versus standing up and throwing the ball in the air. I feel vulnerable and insignificant. Seeing the ball coming right at my face and changing shape and size right in front of me put me in a state of panic and awe. Many of the moments when I've truly had my breath taken away have been with my neck cranked back and my hand holding my hand onto my head so that it doesn't fall off.

I think I'm too much of a dreamer for my own good. I often find myself transported into another reality from the one I'm residing in...especially while in large groups. I just zone out, remove myself from anything going on around me, and find myself on a tangent. When I snap out of it, I can't even express to others what happened. I wonder if this is why I went so long without dreams...because I virtually lived my conscious life in a dream. Sometimes I'm really glad that I have this escape to be completely irrational but problems arise when my analytical self intersects with my abstract self resulting in an overwhelming breakdown of every possible circumstance and happening that could arise as a result of one little action, like buying a table. Just this week I went to Goodwill and came across this table that I fell in love with. I saw myself throwing parties and getting my picture taken in a 1950's hostess dress while holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres and standing next to this table. Even though I had this wonderful image of the table bringing me happiness in life I couldn't get myself to buy the table. I just had too many other scenarios playing in my mind of something happening to the table, like a kitchen fire occurring while making the hors d'oeuvres or getting it home and realizing that it wasn't the table I saw in my image and then I'm stuck with this table that only makes me think of that unattainable table in my imagination. If I get this way over a table from Goodwill, you can only imagine how I get with major life decisions. After a day of contemplation I said to myself, "Maggie, just get the damn table." So I got it. When I got there, the tag had been ripped as if someone else had decided to buy the table but then something happened and they weren't able to pick it up before closing or changed their minds. I realized that I need to just stop thinking about everything and just do it. Heck, it would save me alot of anxiety attacks for sure.

These are a Few of my Favorite Things

2008-03-15T00:03:00.003-04:00

I love game shows. Everything about 'em. Just quality entertainment. I like how everyone's so happy and excited. I love when people yell the letters on Whell of Fortune, but then speak at a normal volume for everything else. "Can I buy a vowel, Pat?" "AAAAA." I love it when people think they've solved the puzzle and then they say it and it's completely wrong. Game shows are just so candid and precious. My family and I are huge game shows junkies. We watched the Bob Barker special a few weeks back, and there was a portion dedicated to bloopers. I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time...it was hilarious watching these people fall, chase Bob Barker for a kiss, just everything. My all-time favorite game show clip is from England:

My favorite game show of all time is the Match Game. I remember when we first started getting the game show network. It was the summer before my freshman year in high school. My best friend had moved away, and unfortunately Natalie and I had this connection that ultimately kept us from hanging out with other kids due to the fact that we didn't need anyone else which left me friendless as I embarked on the long gruelling journey that is high school. I didn't know where to turn...until I came across this magical game show where they were all one big family. I loved the banter and the hilarity that ensued throughout the program. Gene Rayburn possessed this certain alluring charm in his dazzling three-piece suits and overbite smile. To this day, my family and I still watch the Match Game religiously. My dad set a series recording for the show, and it records everytime the show airs. The entire DVR recordings list is the Match Game. it's just pure insanity. The last time I went home dad, Andrew, Jennifer, and I sat and watched the Match Game for about 3 hours straight...that's 6 shows. My favorite panelist on the Match Game, Charles Nelson Reilly, passed away 4 days ago. It makes me sad that my generation hasn't the slightest idea who he was. Man, I feel old. For those of you who don't know him, you should. He was sheer hilarity.

An Award Show Shout Out to my Mom

2008-03-15T00:02:00.001-04:00

I know it's a few weeks after Mother's Day, but I think that any day is acceptable to praise one's mom because hey, she traded in her cuteness for big glasses, sweatpants, less than 8 hours of sleep, and stretchmarks for you. Heck, my mom even did my homework from K-6th grades.

I remember how I thought my mom was the prettiest lady on the planet when I was a kid. All I wanted was to be pretty like her, especially during the time in my life where my pudginess went from being cute and adorable to maybe you should switch to reduced-fat oreos. When I was in middle school I remember being so mad that I didn't inherit my mom's prettiness...all I got was her lack of coordination and her creativity and kookiness. At the time, I didn't comprehend the value of these traits but as the years went by I became so glad to have these traits rather than the good looks. It's strange how with every passing day I become more and more like my mom, and may I say that I am not complaining in the least bit.

When I was a kid I didn't really have many friends...okay, I didn't have any friends. My brothers would hang out with me every once in awhile, but we honestly hated each other until I was in middle school or so. So, I was in about 3rd grade and I had just learned what MASH was. I really wanted to play, but I had nobody to play with due to the short supply of individuals in the friends department. My mom was gracious enough to sit down and play one round with me. I asked her for the 3 "boys" she would like to marry (and she wasn't allowed to say my dad). Mom replied, "MC Hammer, Ronald Reagan, and someone else I don't remember." I don't know why I remember this, and why it's one of the most vivid memories I have of my mom during childhood, but I think it's a pretty good one.

Last year I decided to take the Presidential Physical Fitness Challenge and start doing some cardiovascular activities. I remember my mom calling one night after my work out. "What are you doing, Mag?" "Oh, I just got done runnning 3 miles." "WHOA! That's insane! You've motivated me to start working out again, running 3 miles!" The next morning I had an email from my mom that closed with her running off to work out. "Well, I'm off to do my hula hoop! Talk to ya later Mag!"

About 2 weeks back my mom took me to Chicago to see "Wicked" for my graduation present. We're both big musical nerds and like to act like we're broadway actresses sometimes. The thing is, my mom definitely could've been a huge star. Her voice is the perfect stage voice and she is quite the talented actress. While we were on the train to the Windy City we started having a serious conversation about things like depression and addiction. I told her how I know I can't be around alcohol because I have this propensity to get out of control and drink way too much. She responded, "I know what you mean. You just don't realize that you're doing it after awhile. I know that I was addicted to something at one time. Do you remember that mouse game on the computer? The one where you would have to navigate the little cheese block around to keep it from getting eaten by the mice? I know I was addicted. I remember one night when I was playing it and Anthony was trying to sleep and I didn't even realize that I was still playing until Anthony woke up and said, 'Hey mom, I have school in the morning and I'm trying to get some sleep. Do you think you could stop playing that game?' That's when I realized I had a problem I stopped cold turkey. It was hard, but I knew I had to break it."

She's one great lady, and I hope that I turn out to be just half the woman she is.

National City Bank Time...

2008-03-15T00:01:00.004-04:00

It is currently 82 degrees, with the high reaching 88 degrees for the day. I decided that it was time to trade in my jeans for something more conducive to the onset of summer weather. I am wearing a pair of cuffed pedal pushers with fake pockets that my mom talked me into buying at some spin-off T.J. Maxx store of sorts. They are too big in the waist, and are meant to be worn where most women over 62 wear their pants...about 4 inches above the belly button just so the top of the pants come into contact with the underwire of your brassiere. My peddle pushers are some sort of seer sucker fabric with bright pink and orange stripes that coalesce into a checked-plaid print. "For $4.99 you can learn to deal with the colors Maggie," said my markdown mother.

I feel as though I should be wearing some overpowering perfume characterized by its overwhelming frangrance of baby powder and roses, and a big straw hat or visor in order to shield my delicate skin from the sun and to protect my eyes because who wants to be caught in those huge sunglasses that force nighttime upon their wearers? It's like they're expecting an eclipse. As I sit here typing I feel my cuffed pedal-pushers creeping further up my torso, past my belly-button, assuming their natural state and creating the "old-lady belly" so famously associated with women over 60.

Why don't other cities and towns have time and temperature? That's the one thing about Fort Wayne that puts it above the rest. Everytime I return to Ft. Fun I instantly call Time and Temp...sometimes before I call my family to let them know I've made it safely or before I call my friends to notify them of my arrival and desire to hang out. It's such a great resource. I feel like that woman is a third parent to me. She always made sure I was prepared. I thought of her as I was trying to decide what to wear today. That's why I grabbed my cuffed pedal-pushers off the hanger today.

This is Your Brain on Master Cleanse

2008-03-15T00:01:00.003-04:00

A few weeks back, my roommates and I decided it would be a good idea to end our school year/undergraduate & graduate careers by detoxifying our bodies, via the Master Cleanse, to release all of the poison that builds up in your system after experiencing a liberal arts education. Sounds like a good idea, right? Let me inform you right now so that you don't have to experience the same personal hell my roommates and I did, the master cleanse is not a good idea.

We started this past sunday. Luckily, I was incredibly exhausted from graduation festivities occurring the day before that I slept through most of the day, preventing me from intaking high amounts of the lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper mixture. Sunday night we were all gung-ho about the master cleanse. Becky even "loooooved" the drink. We decided to have a Master Cleanse coronation where we each received the title of "master." (Kristin=Master Peach, Becky=Master Momma, Stac=Master Boo, Maggie=Master Roni) From that point on we would never be the same...well, until we quit the master cleanse 1/2 a day later.

Krisitn went delirious. Her laughter turned into that sort of wheezing sound you find in emphysema patients. She couldn't grasp the concept of The Culture Club's, "I'll Tumble For You." Stacie passed out. She woke up at 7am after drinking "smooth move" tea. Unfortunately, the tea did not make Stac's moves more smooth, as she "tumbled" while trying to let all of her toxins escape from both exits, fainted, hit her head on the sink pipes, and woke up covered in water shooting out from the broken pipe. Becky turned into a human faucet. She decided to take the Master Cleanse to the extreme and guzzle a quart of salt water in the morning. Any physical movement was complimented by an equal reactionary movement of the bowels. And me, well, I turned into a completely irritable, grumpy, bitter resident of Apple Grove Retirement Community forced to play parcheezi. At one point while searching for a pair of sweatpants for Krisitn, I got so annoyed that I just decided to go up to the clerk and rudely ask, "Hey, do you guys have any relatively tight sweatpants with writing across the butt?" I know I severly embarrassed Kristin and Stac, as Kristin quietly said to me, "At the next store, let's just look around instead of asking," but I just didn't even care.

I've never been so peeved in my life. I drank that citrus junk, sipped the smooth move tea, and chugged the salt water, and what do I have to show? Proof that I have the most resistent stomach in the world. Everyone else experienced "Montezuma's Revenge" except for me and my apathetic digestive system. We all decided that we would rather live with the toxins than experience what we went through in the past 36 hours, so we all gathered in the kitchen jamming food in our mouths, then proceeded to Roots to advance our intentions of suppressing our toxins and restricting them from ever surfacing again.

Contemporary Phenomenons

2008-03-15T00:00:00.007-04:00

Back in the month of Christmas my brothers and I sat around channel surfing. All three of us have a tendency to lean a bit towards the nerd persuasion (no matter how many power cleans Anthony does or how many old people adore Andrew..me, well, I'm just a nerd) and found ourselves on the history channel. Some show about Ancient Rome was just wrapping up (are you surprised that it wasn't a show about Hitler?), so we sat and watched the computer generated battle scene. Anthony got up to get a Reese's Big Cup! and a 1/2 gallon of milk, so Andrew and I decided to see what was on next. It was the show "Modern Marvels." "Oh cool!" we thought. "Let's check out what the marvel is!" So we clicked the info button only to find that the topic on this particular show was "ink." Ink. How in the world does ink qualify as a marvel, let alone a modern one?

Over the past few months I've conducted research on the topics of the show "Modern Marvels." The last topic on the show was "tobacco." Tobacco is a crop, not a marvel. Anyone can grow tobacco. It doesn't take years of trial and error processing to grow tobacco. Plus, it's not some sort of chemical compound that someone discovered. It's been around for years! If it's been around for years, how can it be modern? Now, if the topic of the show would have been something like the assembly line of cigarette and cigar making, then I would be more willing to accept the it as a Modern Marvel, but it's still not a marvel.

I looked in the thesaurus for synonyms of both "modern" and "marvel." You tell me if any of these alternative words explain either tobacco or ink:

Modern: current, contemporary, cutting-edge, present-day, newfangled, recent
Marvel: wonder, miracle, phenomenon, stunner, objet d'art

Today, Daniel tried to trick me into watching Modern Marvels and discredit my arguments and distaste for the show. I only watched about one minute and I just had this bad feeling about me. I knew it was Modern Marvels. I could sense it.

Why have I not seen "fax machines," or "penicillin" on Modern Marvels? Fax machines blow my mind! I have no idea how they work, and I would really like Modern Marvels to take on this 20th century wonder and help me understand how such a device works. I would even go so far as to say that sliced bread could be a modern marvel, or peanut butter, since everyone always uses the phrase, "greatest thing since sliced bread/peanut butter." But ink. That's what they give us. I'm starting to think that the History Channel can't put on a production unless Hitler is somehow involved.