I got the bananas, and the gala apples, and the Bartlett pears, and the carrot chips, and the Yoplait Greek strawberry yogurt, and the hummus (Sabra spinach and artichoke, until I get to Trader Joe's, because there's a hummus there I want to try, though I forgot which one it is. I'll know it when I see it), and the Cheerios, and the library books (among them, two Nigella Lawson cookbooks just to read, and a huge book on ghost sightings. Time to begin research for my second book), and I love my mp3 player even more now.
No pita bread, and I don't mind. I do not think of the Sara Lee brand at all when I think of pita bread, and that did not look like pita bread. That looked like a pita bread philistine's idea of pita bread.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
The Day's Plans
I don't have bananas. I need bananas. I don't have gala apples. I need gala apples. I don't have Bartlett pears. I need Bartlett pears. I don't have carrot chips. I need carrot chips (or baby carrots. I've become fond of them lately). I don't have pita bread. I need pita bread. I don't have Yoplait Greek strawberry yogurt. I need Yoplait Greek strawberry yogurt. I have roasted garlic hummus. I like it. But I need other hummus. I'm almost out of Cheerios. I need more Cheerios.
I have library books. I also have library books to return. And I need to pick up library books that will begin research on my second book. I haven't yet cycled my way through the rest of my mp3 player. I need to do that, to take pleasure in having deleted everything that was on there, and starting again and finally making it the way I want it to be.
(The first paragraph is dedicated to my first grade teacher, Mrs. Turner, at Stirling Park Elementary in Casselberry, Florida who had set forth a writing prompt about what we would buy if we had all the money in the world. I answered with the first thing I would buy (I don't remember what it was), and then followed up with each subsequent purchase, beginning with "After I buy...." whatever it was. I received my writing journal back with "Too many 'After I buys'" as her comment. Well, Mrs. Turner, I can do it any way I want now. And I have my first book to prove it.)
I have library books. I also have library books to return. And I need to pick up library books that will begin research on my second book. I haven't yet cycled my way through the rest of my mp3 player. I need to do that, to take pleasure in having deleted everything that was on there, and starting again and finally making it the way I want it to be.
(The first paragraph is dedicated to my first grade teacher, Mrs. Turner, at Stirling Park Elementary in Casselberry, Florida who had set forth a writing prompt about what we would buy if we had all the money in the world. I answered with the first thing I would buy (I don't remember what it was), and then followed up with each subsequent purchase, beginning with "After I buy...." whatever it was. I received my writing journal back with "Too many 'After I buys'" as her comment. Well, Mrs. Turner, I can do it any way I want now. And I have my first book to prove it.)
Monday, January 10, 2011
Lost My Dream Girl. I Hope There's Another One.
Last Wednesday, after spending most of the afternoon at IKEA in Burbank, and then wiping out two gift cards and paying some of my own cash at Barnes & Noble for 7 books and a magazine ("The Normal School," the most unique literary magazine I've seen in years), we stopped at a $1-only used bookstore near Fuddrucker's, where we were going to eat.
I ended up paying $9.88 there, for such as books as "The Brethren" (about the Supreme Court from the 1969-1975 terms), volume 2 of Richard Nixon's memoirs (The White House years), and "On the Road with Charles Kuralt." But those, even though they are always important because they are books, weren't even remotely important compared to what happened.
Meridith came up to me as I was on the right side of the store, looking at those shelves, and told me there had been a woman, about my age, at the counter, though she had only seen the back of her. The woman had brought books up to the counter and the guy ringing it all up said, "Only five?" The woman replied, "Well, I bought 12 last week."
Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it!!!
If Meridith had seen more of her and could recognize her, I would have asked her to follow her, bring her back, and I would have seriously proposed marriage right then and there.
That's why, on all my profiles on a few dating websites I signed up for (the most convenient being OkCupid, because it's free), I added this: "You must love books, or be willing to love books."
I ended up paying $9.88 there, for such as books as "The Brethren" (about the Supreme Court from the 1969-1975 terms), volume 2 of Richard Nixon's memoirs (The White House years), and "On the Road with Charles Kuralt." But those, even though they are always important because they are books, weren't even remotely important compared to what happened.
Meridith came up to me as I was on the right side of the store, looking at those shelves, and told me there had been a woman, about my age, at the counter, though she had only seen the back of her. The woman had brought books up to the counter and the guy ringing it all up said, "Only five?" The woman replied, "Well, I bought 12 last week."
Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it!!!
If Meridith had seen more of her and could recognize her, I would have asked her to follow her, bring her back, and I would have seriously proposed marriage right then and there.
That's why, on all my profiles on a few dating websites I signed up for (the most convenient being OkCupid, because it's free), I added this: "You must love books, or be willing to love books."
Monday, January 3, 2011
God's Dandruff
It snowed yesterday in Santa Clarita, especially in our Saugus neighborhood. For a while, through the afternoon, the snow didn't really stick to anything, then it did. And I achieved many of the goals of my imagined childhood, save for building a snowman. I made a snowball and threw it at my sister, who did the same to me later. It's only fair. I threw a snowball against a tree. I stuck my tongue out to catch the snowflakes and was immediately, happily, reminded of a boy's declaration in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" (I forgot which boy) of "needs sugar."
I did not, however, accomplish my greatest wish. I forgot to not pee for the entire day, and therefore I could not write my name in the snow.
I did not, however, accomplish my greatest wish. I forgot to not pee for the entire day, and therefore I could not write my name in the snow.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Who Are You?
Yesterday, during a spate of boring errands with my family (though the company is never boring, and neither was my salad lunch at Panera), I stood at a bird cage inside PetSmart, admiring a cute blue parakeet that kept staring at me, and vice versa. After our finch Jules died a few days ago, no. And especially not with two dogs in the house. They're more understanding of birds now, but still, with parakeets needing to also be outside the cage to be played with, it's not worth the risk this time. Our dog Beaumont, back in Florida, didn't mind the birds we had. He was loving, but mostly into himself anyway.
Anyway, I went to look at this tall cage that basically introduced the bird section, and there was a $599.99 orange-and-greenish bird inside that cage. One of the employees, a girl who looked like my age, came around and asked if I needed any help. I said no, and she said, "Ok." But it wasn't your typical ok, like a dismissive ok. It was more like one of gentle mocking disappointment, like "Okaaaay." Not sure how much gentle mocking was involved, but she captured my interest right away, especially when she went to the side of that expensive bird's cage and began talking to it. Now clearly she loves this job, and this bird. But how much of that was perhaps a show for me? Was she trying to impress me? Was she interested right off? I don't really know, since I'm not good yet at accurately reading the intentions of women. I'll bet that when I read this entry a few months later or even a year later, I might laugh at that statement, maybe being better at it. But I wonder if she was interested in me in that one moment. If I was anyone else, an older gent with disturbingly wild hair, she might have given a simple "Ok" and moved on. But to go from me to the bird just like that? I don't know. I know with her being an employee of PetSmart, things have to be sold, but it's unlikely she would have received any commission from finding this bird a home. Do they have commission for things like that?
She did help me with two things. First, she showed me that I want a woman who is interested in birds, animals, whatever. In 7th grade, I dated Irene, whose house was a menagerie of animals, almost a farm. I loved it. That's part of who I am.
Secondly, I don't want to go another year without someone. I'm going to be 27 in March. I want my Nora Charles. I want my Amy Adams. I want my Erin O'Brien (Hi, Erin!). I know it may not be easy at the start, I know it will take time, but I want to seriously start the search. It's time.
I hope that girl said "Ok" like that and was interacting with the bird like that because she was interested. I wasn't really sure how to react in that moment, but I thank her for reminding me of one of the major priorities in my life this year. My first book will be out in February, I'm gradually reaching less than 200 lbs., I know the full-time career I want, and I'm thinking hard about what I want to write next (Another book of essays? A play?). Yes, it's time.
Anyway, I went to look at this tall cage that basically introduced the bird section, and there was a $599.99 orange-and-greenish bird inside that cage. One of the employees, a girl who looked like my age, came around and asked if I needed any help. I said no, and she said, "Ok." But it wasn't your typical ok, like a dismissive ok. It was more like one of gentle mocking disappointment, like "Okaaaay." Not sure how much gentle mocking was involved, but she captured my interest right away, especially when she went to the side of that expensive bird's cage and began talking to it. Now clearly she loves this job, and this bird. But how much of that was perhaps a show for me? Was she trying to impress me? Was she interested right off? I don't really know, since I'm not good yet at accurately reading the intentions of women. I'll bet that when I read this entry a few months later or even a year later, I might laugh at that statement, maybe being better at it. But I wonder if she was interested in me in that one moment. If I was anyone else, an older gent with disturbingly wild hair, she might have given a simple "Ok" and moved on. But to go from me to the bird just like that? I don't know. I know with her being an employee of PetSmart, things have to be sold, but it's unlikely she would have received any commission from finding this bird a home. Do they have commission for things like that?
She did help me with two things. First, she showed me that I want a woman who is interested in birds, animals, whatever. In 7th grade, I dated Irene, whose house was a menagerie of animals, almost a farm. I loved it. That's part of who I am.
Secondly, I don't want to go another year without someone. I'm going to be 27 in March. I want my Nora Charles. I want my Amy Adams. I want my Erin O'Brien (Hi, Erin!). I know it may not be easy at the start, I know it will take time, but I want to seriously start the search. It's time.
I hope that girl said "Ok" like that and was interacting with the bird like that because she was interested. I wasn't really sure how to react in that moment, but I thank her for reminding me of one of the major priorities in my life this year. My first book will be out in February, I'm gradually reaching less than 200 lbs., I know the full-time career I want, and I'm thinking hard about what I want to write next (Another book of essays? A play?). Yes, it's time.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Mini Pinball Wizards
They gathered around like moths to a flame.
Actually, around a pinball machine. My pinball machine. Fishing-themed.
I couldn't confidently ascertain their ages, even though the DJ at Skating Plus in Ventura on that pre-New Year's Eve day had called for rink races about a half hour prior, separate age groups joining in the mad dash around, and sometimes around again (for the older kids, two laps), and it was easy to see the demographics of the place for that day. But they looked to be about six or seven years old, maybe eight. My audience. All boys. A curious audience. I always adore a curious audience.
I plugged 50 cents into the machine and the game began. The plunger was actually shaped as a fishing rod and all you had to do was press a button on the top, and the ball would launch. Easy enough, and certainly easier to operate than the Nightmare On Elm Street machine to the left of the X-Files machine, which was to the left of me, and which I had played before. It was ok, but nothing particularly exciting. This machine, however, excited me. It was easy to operate, and it didn't require strenuous effort. I don't mind strenuous effort if the machine is well-calibrated, and this one was, but it called for a more easygoing style, my kind of style.
The kids watched as the ball went around the board, as the flippers shot the ball into parts I hoped would reap high points. And then the questions began:
"What's a long cast?"
"What's a short cast?"
Both easy to answer. The long cast, in the matter of this game, is when the ball goes completely around the board before reaching the flippers again. The short cast is when I immediately shot the ball into the hole almost directly above the right flipper for easy points.
They asked about the mechanics of the game, and they were fascinated by the multiball function, which I achieved many times. One kid, upon seeing it lit up on the machine's screen, informed me that I had to reach 26,000,000 for a free game. Easily reached, the game made a sharp, clacking sound and I had won my free game. During that game, the points to reach for a free game became 31,000,000, which I never accomplished. A little too difficult when you're only at 10,000,000. Not that the kids broke my concentration at any time (we even talked a little bit about basketball, and I expressed my recent preference for the New York Knicks, not because of how they've been playing recently, but because, to me, they embody a passion for basketball I've been looking for, should I wish to attach myself to a team after getting back into the game, watching it anyway. And after watching the Knicks, I do), but this wasn't the type of pinball machine I was playing for a high score. I could easily do that on Cruisin' Exotica, which was right across from the table my mom and I were sitting at, watching my dad and Meridith skate.
After the free game, I dug two more quarters out of my left pocket and asked the kids, "Want to see that again?" They did.
Being a substitute campus supervisor at my dad's middle school, I enjoy seeing that generation interact. I always hope for there to be little ruckus during the day, and I mostly get that. I could never teach, though. I never want to. I like being outside, where the kids act more naturally. In a classroom, there's expectations from teacher to student, and the student has more to worry about than merely what they're having for lunch and who's bothering the hell out of them today.
These little kids around me at the pinball machine, I don't know if their parents noticed, and if they did, they probably saw what I've been good at all this time. I'm good with kids. I have an instinct for who they are, what their personalities are like. I can figure them out right away. With those middle school kids, if I talk to them, I know I can somewhat level with them, while retaining my authoritative state as a campus supervisor. With these little kids, I didn't feel the need to be cutesy. They asked questions, and I answered them, simple enough. They got the gist of the game right away after I told them what a long cast and a short cast was, and just like me, they got really into the game when the multiball function was activated, keeping as close watch on the three balls rolling around the board as I was.
I loved their company. Somehow, I got them, and they got me. I was just one of them for those 20 minutes or so, because I'm completely enamored with pinball machines. After the final free game was over, well, that was that. I said to them, "Later," and I went back to my table to continue reading the 2005 Food Issue of The Oxford American that I had brought with me. I couldn't be expected to watch skating the entire time, and the more I read, the better my days are.
There was one other kid I liked, 10 or 11 years old, maybe 12 (I'm really good at determining ages, as you see). I was playing Cruisin' Exotica, the machine on the left, because the steering wheel on its twin to its right was far too loose, and I had trouble steering in the Vegas stage. Before this particular game, on this particular machine, I had won a #2 spot on the top #10 list for Hong Kong medium, which starts off the Cruisin' Exotica mode if you choose it. During this game, I was at the airport, rolling under a landing 747, and the kid sitting next to me, watching me play, said, "If you're in 2nd or 3rd place, just take your foot off the gas and put it right back on for it to go faster." I never knew that, and I replied, "Thanks, man!" It worked! All this time, I had thought that once you press down on the gas, your foot stays there, and that's all there was to it. As fast as the car goes, that's the speed, I thought. This was amazing. I also scored the #9 spot on that top 10 list. Thanks, kid.
10 pinball games that day (including two free games of T2 at the bowling alley next door, and a pool-themed machine, complete with a large cue ball), as many games of Cruisin' Exotica as people left quarters in the machine (sometimes I had to put in an additional quarter, sometimes two), and burgeoning minds watching me. Add to all of that the first half of the Knicks/Magic game that night, which I Tivo'd and got up to halftime before I went to bed, and it was a perfect day.
Actually, around a pinball machine. My pinball machine. Fishing-themed.
I couldn't confidently ascertain their ages, even though the DJ at Skating Plus in Ventura on that pre-New Year's Eve day had called for rink races about a half hour prior, separate age groups joining in the mad dash around, and sometimes around again (for the older kids, two laps), and it was easy to see the demographics of the place for that day. But they looked to be about six or seven years old, maybe eight. My audience. All boys. A curious audience. I always adore a curious audience.
I plugged 50 cents into the machine and the game began. The plunger was actually shaped as a fishing rod and all you had to do was press a button on the top, and the ball would launch. Easy enough, and certainly easier to operate than the Nightmare On Elm Street machine to the left of the X-Files machine, which was to the left of me, and which I had played before. It was ok, but nothing particularly exciting. This machine, however, excited me. It was easy to operate, and it didn't require strenuous effort. I don't mind strenuous effort if the machine is well-calibrated, and this one was, but it called for a more easygoing style, my kind of style.
The kids watched as the ball went around the board, as the flippers shot the ball into parts I hoped would reap high points. And then the questions began:
"What's a long cast?"
"What's a short cast?"
Both easy to answer. The long cast, in the matter of this game, is when the ball goes completely around the board before reaching the flippers again. The short cast is when I immediately shot the ball into the hole almost directly above the right flipper for easy points.
They asked about the mechanics of the game, and they were fascinated by the multiball function, which I achieved many times. One kid, upon seeing it lit up on the machine's screen, informed me that I had to reach 26,000,000 for a free game. Easily reached, the game made a sharp, clacking sound and I had won my free game. During that game, the points to reach for a free game became 31,000,000, which I never accomplished. A little too difficult when you're only at 10,000,000. Not that the kids broke my concentration at any time (we even talked a little bit about basketball, and I expressed my recent preference for the New York Knicks, not because of how they've been playing recently, but because, to me, they embody a passion for basketball I've been looking for, should I wish to attach myself to a team after getting back into the game, watching it anyway. And after watching the Knicks, I do), but this wasn't the type of pinball machine I was playing for a high score. I could easily do that on Cruisin' Exotica, which was right across from the table my mom and I were sitting at, watching my dad and Meridith skate.
After the free game, I dug two more quarters out of my left pocket and asked the kids, "Want to see that again?" They did.
Being a substitute campus supervisor at my dad's middle school, I enjoy seeing that generation interact. I always hope for there to be little ruckus during the day, and I mostly get that. I could never teach, though. I never want to. I like being outside, where the kids act more naturally. In a classroom, there's expectations from teacher to student, and the student has more to worry about than merely what they're having for lunch and who's bothering the hell out of them today.
These little kids around me at the pinball machine, I don't know if their parents noticed, and if they did, they probably saw what I've been good at all this time. I'm good with kids. I have an instinct for who they are, what their personalities are like. I can figure them out right away. With those middle school kids, if I talk to them, I know I can somewhat level with them, while retaining my authoritative state as a campus supervisor. With these little kids, I didn't feel the need to be cutesy. They asked questions, and I answered them, simple enough. They got the gist of the game right away after I told them what a long cast and a short cast was, and just like me, they got really into the game when the multiball function was activated, keeping as close watch on the three balls rolling around the board as I was.
I loved their company. Somehow, I got them, and they got me. I was just one of them for those 20 minutes or so, because I'm completely enamored with pinball machines. After the final free game was over, well, that was that. I said to them, "Later," and I went back to my table to continue reading the 2005 Food Issue of The Oxford American that I had brought with me. I couldn't be expected to watch skating the entire time, and the more I read, the better my days are.
There was one other kid I liked, 10 or 11 years old, maybe 12 (I'm really good at determining ages, as you see). I was playing Cruisin' Exotica, the machine on the left, because the steering wheel on its twin to its right was far too loose, and I had trouble steering in the Vegas stage. Before this particular game, on this particular machine, I had won a #2 spot on the top #10 list for Hong Kong medium, which starts off the Cruisin' Exotica mode if you choose it. During this game, I was at the airport, rolling under a landing 747, and the kid sitting next to me, watching me play, said, "If you're in 2nd or 3rd place, just take your foot off the gas and put it right back on for it to go faster." I never knew that, and I replied, "Thanks, man!" It worked! All this time, I had thought that once you press down on the gas, your foot stays there, and that's all there was to it. As fast as the car goes, that's the speed, I thought. This was amazing. I also scored the #9 spot on that top 10 list. Thanks, kid.
10 pinball games that day (including two free games of T2 at the bowling alley next door, and a pool-themed machine, complete with a large cue ball), as many games of Cruisin' Exotica as people left quarters in the machine (sometimes I had to put in an additional quarter, sometimes two), and burgeoning minds watching me. Add to all of that the first half of the Knicks/Magic game that night, which I Tivo'd and got up to halftime before I went to bed, and it was a perfect day.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Which One?
A couple of weeks ago, I came up with a pickup line that at least suits me. Since those couple of weeks ago, I've been analyzing it for kind of maximum effectiveness, figuring out which words would work best for me.
The original incarnation is: "So, what'd I miss before we met?"
I like this, but I'm iffy about the "we". I would only be inclined to use the "we" if I was interested in the woman right away. If I found something interesting about her, but wasn't interested in the entire her right away, yet still wanted to know more, I'd likely use this one:
"So, what'd I miss before you met me?"
Now here's the tightrope of this one: By using this, it may convey the confidence I have. Yet, it may also be construed as egotistical. I'm not sure yet.
I haven't had the chance yet to use either one, so for now, I'll ruminate. Both of them are as fine-tuned as I can get them, so maybe it just depends on the woman's perception. Depending on the woman, I'll chance it with either one.
The original incarnation is: "So, what'd I miss before we met?"
I like this, but I'm iffy about the "we". I would only be inclined to use the "we" if I was interested in the woman right away. If I found something interesting about her, but wasn't interested in the entire her right away, yet still wanted to know more, I'd likely use this one:
"So, what'd I miss before you met me?"
Now here's the tightrope of this one: By using this, it may convey the confidence I have. Yet, it may also be construed as egotistical. I'm not sure yet.
I haven't had the chance yet to use either one, so for now, I'll ruminate. Both of them are as fine-tuned as I can get them, so maybe it just depends on the woman's perception. Depending on the woman, I'll chance it with either one.
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