AWESOME
Without ME, it’s just Awe So.
My awesome story is that I got on the elevator today and a guy got on at the same time and with a quick side glance I thought it was Jonathan Capehart. (Fangirl Flutter, Fangirl Flutter). I was all ready to say hello, (and probably something stupid) so that I could go back home and lord it over my comrades back home that I had “met” Jonathan Capehart. Deep breath. Another deep breath. I turn and say, “Hel…lo....” NOT Jonathan Capehart. I’m a dork. He’s looking at me like I’m a dork. (Think fast, think fast, Save the moment, save the moment) “What floor would you like? I can push the button.” (I can push the button? Really. You mean the button he already pushed? Totally NOT saving the moment, but at least I did fulfill the saying something stupid part of the plan.) By that time we were at his floor. He was very nice and said, “Thank you for being so gracious.” No, good sir, THANK YOU for not calling me out on my dorkiness. You are awesome.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Missing Out
My training this week has been great and I know it will help me with my job, but I am a bit bummed out too. My daughter just called me to tell me about her induction ceremony into National Honor Society. Last night she was given for awards for her participation in Amnesty International, Youth in Government (writing and presenting bills for a statewide student legislature), Mock Trial Competition, and Speak Your Mind (Current Events Forum). And I missed that too. Although she also missed it because the soccer team had an away game last night.
Monday I visited George Mason University and tomorrow I go to George Washington University and American University to look them over. She really wants to go to school here in the DC area, but I don't know how we'll swing it. She is very interested in Georgetown, but that isn't happening. The reality is a 3.65 GPA, all honors and AP classes, 13 clubs, soccer, a regional title in policy debate, three honor societies, and tutoring gifted kids for the A+ program (and this doesn't even touch next year) isn't enough. I refuse to tell my sweet, bright, beautiful child that she is not enough.
So take that Georgetown! We don't need you. There are like 2,774 four year colleges in the US. We still have 2,770 to go.
(I'm proud of you sweetheart!)
Monday I visited George Mason University and tomorrow I go to George Washington University and American University to look them over. She really wants to go to school here in the DC area, but I don't know how we'll swing it. She is very interested in Georgetown, but that isn't happening. The reality is a 3.65 GPA, all honors and AP classes, 13 clubs, soccer, a regional title in policy debate, three honor societies, and tutoring gifted kids for the A+ program (and this doesn't even touch next year) isn't enough. I refuse to tell my sweet, bright, beautiful child that she is not enough.
So take that Georgetown! We don't need you. There are like 2,774 four year colleges in the US. We still have 2,770 to go.
(I'm proud of you sweetheart!)
We Don't Talk Anymore
Yesterday as I was sitting at the gate waiting for my flight, I realized that we have lost the ability to sit and do nothing. Or to sit and make small talk with a complete stranger. Everywhere I looked people were on iPhones or laptops or iPads. Now, before you call me a hypocrite I wrote this in a journal with a pencil (Ok. A mechanical pencil) and I am now sending it out into cyberspace (NOW you can call me a hypocrite).
I was sitting across from a youngish couple. The guy was on his iPad, his wife was texting on her phone while also on the laptop. They may have said 20 words to one another the entire wait. Further down the row was a family. Mom and Dad on their respective iPhones and the boy, around three I'd guess, on his game device. No talking, no touching, no communication at all with the people they were actually with. Weird.
Remember that Star Trek: TNG episode where the two giant robots were battling and in the process destroying a planet? Captain Picard and the Enterprise crew finally figured out that it was two kids, who had no idea of the existance of the other, in different areas playing a game. They had been so isolated that the only way they knew how to connect with the world was through a game device.
As great as all this technology is sometimes I think it is pulling us further apart, even as it brings us closer together.
I was sitting across from a youngish couple. The guy was on his iPad, his wife was texting on her phone while also on the laptop. They may have said 20 words to one another the entire wait. Further down the row was a family. Mom and Dad on their respective iPhones and the boy, around three I'd guess, on his game device. No talking, no touching, no communication at all with the people they were actually with. Weird.
Remember that Star Trek: TNG episode where the two giant robots were battling and in the process destroying a planet? Captain Picard and the Enterprise crew finally figured out that it was two kids, who had no idea of the existance of the other, in different areas playing a game. They had been so isolated that the only way they knew how to connect with the world was through a game device.
As great as all this technology is sometimes I think it is pulling us further apart, even as it brings us closer together.
Missouri State Fair, August 1972
Pensive Person's post got me to thinking about my family and our outings.
Family outings were not big on our list. I live in a state with two major league baseball teams (I saw my first game Cards/Phillies when I was 24), a world famous FREE zoo (I was 13 and went with other people), two amusement parks (we only went a handful of times, which is ok. Newton proved gravity with an apple - I have no need to prove it with a two-ton rollercoaster) and Branson/Silver Dollar City (once was enough for a lifetime). We usually went to the Boone County Fair (Sheep, cows, horses, and Tilt-A-Whirls, oh my!) and I've been to the State Fair twice.
In 1972, I was seven and received an allowance. For what, I have no idea, but I got one. My dad said, "We'll treat this just like a real job. Every week I'll record your allowance in the checkbook and keep the balance. Then, when you want something you can check the balance and see if you can afford it." I know what you are thinking. Smart auditor dad teaching about budgeting, saving and delayed gratification. Hmm. Maybe. If so, it didn't stick. What I truly believe is that if we kept track "like a real job" then he didn't have to scrounge up five bucks every week for me to squirrel away in my room somewhere and lose.
That year what I really wanted more than anything in the world was a red and white portable record player. A real one, not a little kid one. So, I "saved" enought that my dad took me to Radio Shack - then called Tandy - and I became the proud owner of a red and white portable record player with built-in speaker and pop-up ring for the 45s I would someday own. Oh my god, it was a thing of beauty. But then I needed something to play on it. Real music...like The Jackson 5. I loved The Jackson 5.
Shockingly, Tandy did not have a vast array of music and only one Jackson 5 album, which I, my family, and anyone within hearing distance of my home would come to know intimately, "Looking Through The Windows" (released May 1972).
You don't remember it? Really? It had the title song, which I think was a single, an Ashford/Simpson cover, some other songs and a cover of Jackson Browne's "Doctor My Eyes". Only I didn't know it was a cover. Imagine my surprise when I heard the original version. I loved that album. In fact, I still own it.
That summer I heard on the radio that The Jackson 5 were going to be at the Missouri State Fair in August. Can we go? Can we go? No, too hot, too expensive, blah, blah. Ok, pretty much the answer I expected, so I forgot about it.
The evening of August 21, a week before school started, my dad announced that we were going to the State Fair. Great. I've never been. That will be fun. No, dear reader, The Jackson 5 never crossed my mind. I was a fairly clueless child and besides my dad had said no. Unlike with my own kids, no meant no.
We got the fair and spent the day looking at exhibits, riding the rides and drinking copious amounts of soda because it was blazingly hot and humid. As the sun started to go down, my dad said it was time to go. Instead of walking to the gates to the parking lot he led us toward the Grandstand.
Basically as a child and an adult I will wander around watching people, so if I am following you, you can lead me anywhere and I won't question you, which was exactly what I was doing that night.
Then I saw it. A huge poster announcing The Jackson 5. He was taking me to see THE JACKSON 5. I WAS GOING TO SEE MICHAEL JACKSON AND THE JACKSON 5! ME!! I was the luckiest girl on the planet. I EVEN got a souvenir program with bios and pictures! Wow, oh wow. Nothing is ever going to be better than this.
As my dad led us higher and higher up the metal bleachers the opening act was setting up. What's an opening act? I have to sit through something called "The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band"? Who are they and why do I care? Just hurry up....oh wait. I know this "Mr. Bojangles" song. I like it. Ok, that was nice...NOW hurry up!
And then, there they are...THE JACKSON 5! They sing, they dance, they tell corny jokes, they change their clothes for absolutely no reason. They are so nice they let their little sister come on stage. Janet. Janet has a really cool tangerine floor length dress that I covet. She sings a song, but she's nothing special, because Michael is singing again. There is Tito with his hat, Jackie is spinning and looking super cool, there is Marlon with his cute hair and Jermaine! Oh my. I'm singing and dancing on the bleachers and no one is telling me to sit down!
It was one of the best nights of my life.
As I got older and my dad and I became even more alike in personality we weren't close. Communication? The closest we came is the fact that I am pretty sure we could both spell it. I know my mom loves me, but she would never have done something like this. This type of grand gesture complete with fake out and surprise was all my dad and I know it was his way of showing me he loved me.
Thanks Dad. I miss you.
Family outings were not big on our list. I live in a state with two major league baseball teams (I saw my first game Cards/Phillies when I was 24), a world famous FREE zoo (I was 13 and went with other people), two amusement parks (we only went a handful of times, which is ok. Newton proved gravity with an apple - I have no need to prove it with a two-ton rollercoaster) and Branson/Silver Dollar City (once was enough for a lifetime). We usually went to the Boone County Fair (Sheep, cows, horses, and Tilt-A-Whirls, oh my!) and I've been to the State Fair twice.
In 1972, I was seven and received an allowance. For what, I have no idea, but I got one. My dad said, "We'll treat this just like a real job. Every week I'll record your allowance in the checkbook and keep the balance. Then, when you want something you can check the balance and see if you can afford it." I know what you are thinking. Smart auditor dad teaching about budgeting, saving and delayed gratification. Hmm. Maybe. If so, it didn't stick. What I truly believe is that if we kept track "like a real job" then he didn't have to scrounge up five bucks every week for me to squirrel away in my room somewhere and lose.
That year what I really wanted more than anything in the world was a red and white portable record player. A real one, not a little kid one. So, I "saved" enought that my dad took me to Radio Shack - then called Tandy - and I became the proud owner of a red and white portable record player with built-in speaker and pop-up ring for the 45s I would someday own. Oh my god, it was a thing of beauty. But then I needed something to play on it. Real music...like The Jackson 5. I loved The Jackson 5.
Shockingly, Tandy did not have a vast array of music and only one Jackson 5 album, which I, my family, and anyone within hearing distance of my home would come to know intimately, "Looking Through The Windows" (released May 1972).
You don't remember it? Really? It had the title song, which I think was a single, an Ashford/Simpson cover, some other songs and a cover of Jackson Browne's "Doctor My Eyes". Only I didn't know it was a cover. Imagine my surprise when I heard the original version. I loved that album. In fact, I still own it.
That summer I heard on the radio that The Jackson 5 were going to be at the Missouri State Fair in August. Can we go? Can we go? No, too hot, too expensive, blah, blah. Ok, pretty much the answer I expected, so I forgot about it.
The evening of August 21, a week before school started, my dad announced that we were going to the State Fair. Great. I've never been. That will be fun. No, dear reader, The Jackson 5 never crossed my mind. I was a fairly clueless child and besides my dad had said no. Unlike with my own kids, no meant no.
We got the fair and spent the day looking at exhibits, riding the rides and drinking copious amounts of soda because it was blazingly hot and humid. As the sun started to go down, my dad said it was time to go. Instead of walking to the gates to the parking lot he led us toward the Grandstand.
Basically as a child and an adult I will wander around watching people, so if I am following you, you can lead me anywhere and I won't question you, which was exactly what I was doing that night.
Then I saw it. A huge poster announcing The Jackson 5. He was taking me to see THE JACKSON 5. I WAS GOING TO SEE MICHAEL JACKSON AND THE JACKSON 5! ME!! I was the luckiest girl on the planet. I EVEN got a souvenir program with bios and pictures! Wow, oh wow. Nothing is ever going to be better than this.
As my dad led us higher and higher up the metal bleachers the opening act was setting up. What's an opening act? I have to sit through something called "The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band"? Who are they and why do I care? Just hurry up....oh wait. I know this "Mr. Bojangles" song. I like it. Ok, that was nice...NOW hurry up!
And then, there they are...THE JACKSON 5! They sing, they dance, they tell corny jokes, they change their clothes for absolutely no reason. They are so nice they let their little sister come on stage. Janet. Janet has a really cool tangerine floor length dress that I covet. She sings a song, but she's nothing special, because Michael is singing again. There is Tito with his hat, Jackie is spinning and looking super cool, there is Marlon with his cute hair and Jermaine! Oh my. I'm singing and dancing on the bleachers and no one is telling me to sit down!
It was one of the best nights of my life.
As I got older and my dad and I became even more alike in personality we weren't close. Communication? The closest we came is the fact that I am pretty sure we could both spell it. I know my mom loves me, but she would never have done something like this. This type of grand gesture complete with fake out and surprise was all my dad and I know it was his way of showing me he loved me.
Thanks Dad. I miss you.
Thank You For Your Support
Last night when I had my mini meltdown and you were there to support me and help me back up meant more than you will know.
I went to the library and just enjoyed the quiet and the books and went home to have a nice cup of tea. Ok, it was actually a pretty crappy cup of tea because I am out of the good stuff, so it was really just one small step up from the the vile stuff you get at a restaurant, but it was warm in the mug and comforting. Then I had a bath and a good night's sleep.
I'm ready to go do my job to the best of my ability and be happy doing it and I thank you, Phyllis, Kim, Deborah, L'heure, Barbara and Patience for that. Now, you, Pensive Person, I am on the fence about, because I really, really want a huge helping of mashed potatoes with cream gravy. :) I'm just kidding. Thank you for your kind comment and support. (Well, I'm not kidding about the mashed potatoes.)
Tonight I will leave work to go sit in the rain and freeze my butt off watching the girl play soccer and it'll all be good. Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart!
MM
Froze my butt, but it didn't rain and they won! 1-0. Woo hoo 2-0 for the season!
I went to the library and just enjoyed the quiet and the books and went home to have a nice cup of tea. Ok, it was actually a pretty crappy cup of tea because I am out of the good stuff, so it was really just one small step up from the the vile stuff you get at a restaurant, but it was warm in the mug and comforting. Then I had a bath and a good night's sleep.
I'm ready to go do my job to the best of my ability and be happy doing it and I thank you, Phyllis, Kim, Deborah, L'heure, Barbara and Patience for that. Now, you, Pensive Person, I am on the fence about, because I really, really want a huge helping of mashed potatoes with cream gravy. :) I'm just kidding. Thank you for your kind comment and support. (Well, I'm not kidding about the mashed potatoes.)
Tonight I will leave work to go sit in the rain and freeze my butt off watching the girl play soccer and it'll all be good. Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart!
MM
Froze my butt, but it didn't rain and they won! 1-0. Woo hoo 2-0 for the season!
State Mock Trial
My girl's high school mock trial team won their districts and advanced to state. One of 16 schools. Very exciting, as it is her first year with mock trial. The team lost a couple of people to spring break, but the plaintiff and defense teams worked together to ensure everything was covered and practiced hard to make sure they were as good as possible.
The Plaintiffs went Friday night against a private school from St. Louis and by all accounts, weren't too bad. The Defense (yay!) went Saturday morning against the #1 team in the state and the #2 team in the country (another private school. Shocking). Luck of the draw, literally. The girl was awesome (in my humble opinion). The defense lost. However, their loss was not an annihilation. They acquitted themselves nicely and learned in the process. They were proud of themselves, as they should have been. And we were/are proud of them too.
Then they got to eat the best barbecue in the world: Arthur Bryant's. Definitely a good weekend.
The Plaintiffs went Friday night against a private school from St. Louis and by all accounts, weren't too bad. The Defense (yay!) went Saturday morning against the #1 team in the state and the #2 team in the country (another private school. Shocking). Luck of the draw, literally. The girl was awesome (in my humble opinion). The defense lost. However, their loss was not an annihilation. They acquitted themselves nicely and learned in the process. They were proud of themselves, as they should have been. And we were/are proud of them too.
Then they got to eat the best barbecue in the world: Arthur Bryant's. Definitely a good weekend.
Gaysian
I heard the word for the first time today. Gaysian. I knew immediately what it meant. A gay asian. A hip blending of two things into one easy name. Like Brangelina or whatever. I work with people younger than me, like I could be their mom if I had lost my mind and had children at 20, younger than me. And I have to say, this word, Gaysian, bothered me. "Oh, Steve. He's gaysian." Could there be two less important things for me to know about Steve? Maybe I am being oversensitive, but it feels like a lazy attempt at humor. To "humorous" distill a human down to an easily digestible trendy tidbit.
As a descriptor is doesn't do much. Does he look like Pat Morita, or Daniel Kim, or Richard Lui, or Sendhil Ramamurthy? Those men are all Asian and they look nothing alike. You can tell me anything in the world to describe him and and this is what you choose? How about: Does Steve like Ron Paul or Dennis Kucinich? Is he vegetarian or carnivore? Does he like the Atlanta Braves or the Detroit Tigers? What is his job? Does he like the outdoors? Which is the better trilogy, Godfather or Terminator? Why is it acceptable to freely share Steve's sexual orientation and his racial make up? Because it's cute? Because someone put a clever listing in urban dictionary?
We don't do this with straight people. My friend Maggie is white and straight. Imagine if I said, "Oh Maggie, she's whaight." or "Maggie's strite." Neither one is particularly catchy. This tells you nothing about her beautiful brown eyes, that she makes the best pecan muffins, likes horrible reality TV and is a Cubs fan. It doesn't tell you that she has a kind heart and wicked laugh.
Or my friend Amy, who is black and straight. Again. "Amy's blaight?" or "My friend Amy is strack?" Again, not catchy. What exactly do you get from that? What you don't get is that she is genuinely the happiest person I have ever met. That she is tall and beautiful and has a laugh that can fill a room. That she wants to be a prosecutor and that she likes romance novels and thai food and drives like a bat out of hell.
Maybe I'm too sensitive or looking to be bothered, but I don't think so. Don't we already have enough problems with pigeonholing people?
As a descriptor is doesn't do much. Does he look like Pat Morita, or Daniel Kim, or Richard Lui, or Sendhil Ramamurthy? Those men are all Asian and they look nothing alike. You can tell me anything in the world to describe him and and this is what you choose? How about: Does Steve like Ron Paul or Dennis Kucinich? Is he vegetarian or carnivore? Does he like the Atlanta Braves or the Detroit Tigers? What is his job? Does he like the outdoors? Which is the better trilogy, Godfather or Terminator? Why is it acceptable to freely share Steve's sexual orientation and his racial make up? Because it's cute? Because someone put a clever listing in urban dictionary?
We don't do this with straight people. My friend Maggie is white and straight. Imagine if I said, "Oh Maggie, she's whaight." or "Maggie's strite." Neither one is particularly catchy. This tells you nothing about her beautiful brown eyes, that she makes the best pecan muffins, likes horrible reality TV and is a Cubs fan. It doesn't tell you that she has a kind heart and wicked laugh.
Or my friend Amy, who is black and straight. Again. "Amy's blaight?" or "My friend Amy is strack?" Again, not catchy. What exactly do you get from that? What you don't get is that she is genuinely the happiest person I have ever met. That she is tall and beautiful and has a laugh that can fill a room. That she wants to be a prosecutor and that she likes romance novels and thai food and drives like a bat out of hell.
Maybe I'm too sensitive or looking to be bothered, but I don't think so. Don't we already have enough problems with pigeonholing people?
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