When bloggers network in person:
“I picked up nine business cards that night. I was confused as to what I was supposed to do with them. Do I call these numbers when I need something blogged? Hey, we met at Royal Oak, and I was thinking, Yo La Tengo is cool. Can you blog that for me? You can? Awesome. Can you have that up in the next two hours? I might have something to say about Greg Dulli later, maybe you could blog that too? Terrific.” — Gary Benchley, The Morning News
Marched with Kristina last weekend. (Kristina: “What’s that movie about Mr. Something Goes to Washington?” Me: “Mr. Deeds?”) More on the march soon. (Addendum 5/5/04: Gaper’s Block marches for choice).
Other top five highlights of recent days:
1) Sold books at my organization’s used book sale fundraiser, while sitting in the sun.
2) Hit both the free cone day at Ben n’ Jerry’s and at Baskin Robbins. At B&J, felt like a dork amongst giggling middle schoolers. But persevered and took comfort in the fact that there was a middle-aged man with an iPod in the line behind me.
3) Had t-shirts made for my office, and they were delivered looking as I’d wanted them. Miracle.
4) Have worn flip-flops to work every day.
I’m sure everyone is wondering why I haven’t posted, because I know that’s what all of my legions of readers do in their spare time. The truth is that I have been angsty, and thoughtful, and mixed-up and crazy-busy.
My taxes were a small disaster. One of my W-2 forms was mailed to the wrong address and then reissued (on April 14, finally) under the wrong name. (Lindsay Logan: I have your W-2 from AmeriCorps.) After much last-minute scrambling, I got my taxes mailed in. And they came right back to me the next day, marked “insufficient postage.”
I went to Denver last weekend for an arts educators’ conference. It was cool to be around so many creative types all at once. Made me feel quite inferior for not even being able to draw, tho. (I went because the nonprofit i work for partners with an art museum, and I was co-presenting a seminar on a family arts literacy program we run.) I saw the airport, the hotel, and a tumbleweed.
Now we’re holding a huge fundraiser used book sale at work, and I am the publicity chick. Which means. I don’t know what it means. I have never done publicity for anything before. I made 8,000 promotional bookmarks today when I should have only made 1,000 (or so I learn now, after I already spent $250 on them.) This is why I should never be entrusted to use my judgement.
And of course, the question of the future, all aspects of it, is as open as ever. I am sinking, sinking, sinking into angst about a swirl of unrelated sectors of life. This happens to everyone. It will pass. Deep breath.
Nice wheels for a girl with no car…
I have an old lady cart. When it’s folded up, it looks like a baby stroller. I am neither elderly nor do I have a baby, so I can see how people are confused by it. I use it to carry groceries back from the supermarket and to take my laundry to the laundry room. Today I wheeled it to the laundry room full of laundry and started loading clothes into a machine. Suddenly I realized that a bonafide old lady (white hair in a bun, hunched over, cardigan sweater) was staring at me from close range, too close for comfort, as I was handling various underthings. I was trying to formulate what to say (“May I help you?”) when she said to me, “I was just admiring your cart.”
She had one of the cheaper wire carts and asked if she should invest in one like mine. I told her she should. And she was so sweet, I sorta felt like giving her mine on the spot. But I didn’t. Because what would I do without it?
Your life is not as strange as this: What happens when reality T.V. moves into the upstairs apartment. Story uses the word “defenestrate”.
Spent lunchtime listening to the new Wilco album on their web site. Oh, Wilco. You sweep me off my feet every time.
Now, time to prepare a tasty salad for tomorrow’s seder. I am not Jewish. But no matter. I am going to a seder anyways (my very first — I have no idea what goes on, so hopefully I won’t look too dumb).
Get your name analyzed by the Kabalarians: Lindsay as a first name gives you a very independent nature, yet you are friendly, approachable, and generous. You can be a spontaneous, expressive, and talkative person. Generally you are good-natured, though at times you can be rather blunt and sarcastic. This name incorporates creative, artistic, and musical abilities, and there would be an element of originality in all that you do. You like to do things on the spur of the moment without planning or prior arrangements. Your spirits are buoyed up greatly by encouragement and appreciation.
That’s pretty accurate. Though I am a sucker for these sorts of things. See also the enjoyable characters in the Flash presentation explaining their philosophy.
My lower left eyelid has been twitching every few minutes for the past month. Apparently this is a hot topic. One guy’s blog has been overrun by eye-twitchers.
Recently overheard co-worker quotes:
1) “It’s hard to find good books for kids who can’t read.” — on book ordering for our literacy programs
2) “I think we should take every Republican who’s divorced and burn them at the stake.” — on the supposed sanctity of marriage
3) “Central time is the best time zone ever, hands down. You can watch whatever t.v. show you want and not have to stay up late. It’s awesome.” — on time
Something new in the megaphone.
I figured it out! Today I walked around the National Mall. It’s D.C.’s annual Cherry Blossom Festival, and I watched Midwestern tourist parents take gag-me photos of their children backgrounded by blossom-laden trees. Last night I watched Reality Bites with Kirsten, wherein Troy tells Lelaina that the “only thing she has to be by the age of 23 is herself.” And I am currently reading a book called Please Don’t Kill the Freshman, which was written by a fifteen year-old high school girl who sort of has a thing against the world. The aforementioned factors somehow coalesced (in much the same way, I imagine, as green peas and mashed potatoes and meatloaf combine in one’s stomach, as my father always told me they would all go to the same place.) Anyways, somehow these bits swirled around in my subconscious and provided me with a Eureka moment.
Question: What do I want to do with my life?
Answer: Damn the man.
That’s as far as I’ve gotten. Any career that affords me the ability to damn the man will heretofore be considered.
‘Tis now April Fool’s Day, yes, but also the start of National Poetry Month. I don’t know if a whole nationwide month of poetry celebratin’ is too, I dunno, mainstream for you artistic types, but there it is anyway.
4/2: Other days/months to celebrate writing. That is, if you don’t already celebrate it every day. Which you should.
The Washington Times reveals, gasp, female DJs in D.C. I have always wanted to be a DJ. Just like I have always wanted to be a bike messenger. Street cred. That’s what I want. Well. That may never happen. Especially since I don’t particularly understand the appeal of vinyl versus something like a CD. If I had a “comments” feature on this blog, I’m sure you all could explain it for me. Since I ain’t got that snazzy option, maybe you could just leave a note in the guestbook.