Johns Hope-kins

For those of you not in the area, it is currently Restaurant Week here in Baltimore. What is that, you may ask? Basically for us poor assholes who enjoy expensive food but don't want to part with alot of cash, we can, for a week, visit a number of restaurants that offer a set menu of three or four courses for only $35. In some cases, they even throw in a free glass of wine or beer (woohoo).

Last night I was driving downtown to meet up with some friends at one such restaurant. I sat at the light by Johns Hopkins and while I waited I started perusing the people walking to, from, and around the campus. I noticed a beefy girl in a red tank and blue long boys shorts jogging along the path outside the school. Then a guy smoking a cigarette and hauling a book bag passed her and was walking towards a bus stop. The light changed and as I swerved into the side lane for cars to use I continued my inspection of the students. Two girls, who appeared like such kids to me (a sure sign I'm both old AND out of touch) were walking and chatting gaily. Another girl passed them wearing what looked like a going-out outfit and clutched a cell phone to her ear.

You may think I was being ultra-weird, even stalkerish. The truth is I kept looking at these kids with an aura of wonder and respect. Back in high school, when we had all talked about what colleges would accept us, it was usually involving schools with names like Rhode Island University or Flagler. We had all heard of schools like Harvard, Yale, and our very own Jersey school, Princeton. Yet the idea of one of us actually making into one of these prestigious schools seemed so out of the possibility, it as if you were going to be chosen for a space mission. When one or two DID actually gain acceptance to these more notable schools, we all, I suspect, acknowledged them with due congratulations but on the inside felt pangs of jealousy, followed by relief.

The people that get into these schools have almost a preordained destiny for them, I feel, much like a royal family member preparing for the crown. Though you may wish it for yourself, you know that it is not within your reach and so you become settled and comfortable for your own chosen lot in life. Those people were the ones that seemed unstoppable in at least two or three subjects in school, and I would always shirk away from them, fearful of infecting their perfect brains with my own odd observations or even worse, that somehow they saw something in me that I wasn't smart enough to see for myself.

I began feeling all those same emotions as I watched the plethora of students walk about Johns Hopkins. Although instead of tight jealousy in my stomach, I tried to instead think of the accomplishments they'd one day claim for themselves. Each one of them had been selected to be members of an elite society of scholars, and with that came the responsibility to do something with their hefty brains: a cure for diabetes, solving outrageous mathematical equations, supplying a cost-effective treatment for people suffering in third world countries, etc..

Rather than feel that internal greed for their intelligence, I tried instead to think of each one of them carrying some precious material with them, something that you couldn't tell they had until they let it out once in a while, and you were suddenly able to recognize their possibility for greatness.

I finally made it to my destination, and as I pulled out the chair and joined my friends in conversation, I once again felt the relief filter in. Sure, I was no doctor, I would never be an engineer or solve the world's mysteries. But I was secure in the little life I was carving out for myself. And as I sipped my crab soup and discussed the latest book club entry we were reading, offering the odd observations I always seemed to have no exhaustion of, I felt I was beginning to make my own way. Hopefully, anyway.

Ok, so not my funniest entry. Must be this introspective weather...oh well, humor shall ensue tomorrow...

For Memorial Purposes

Since Memorial Day just passed (and I was too lazy to write anything yesterday) I'm going to use that as my theme for tonight. Although instead of just writing my thoughts on veterans or America, I thought I'd do something a little bit more personal mixed in with the basic principles associated with the military: teamwork, bravery, responsibility, and compassion.

I realized I am slowly entering that age where names and faces of my past are becoming fuzzy. The lines between what ACTUALLY happened and what I think are starting to disintegrate, and so in an effort to help my problem I am going to utilize this web-diary thing to jot down some memories so that they are forever documented (and hopefully if I can pin down these thoughts it will help to always anchor additional ones).

So, in the vein of remembering what our heroic soldiers stand for, here are the things I hope to always remember...

1. Coach/Mr. Ullmeyer- My cross-country coach. He might actually be the reason I started to think about this as a good topic. I was jogging the other day and still trying to remember the breathing techniques he taught me. Granted, I lasted for just the season, and was consistently bringing up the rear, it still felt awesome to be part of something (especially since my high school years mostly consisted of trying to evaporate into the background).

2. My sister calling me brave- I doubt she would remember this, but for some reason I never forgot (and hopefully now I really never will). On one of our many little family road trips, we went to a water park (most likely Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom). Anyway, as usual I put up a fight to go on any of the slides. I was (and still to this day) terrified of heights AND losing control so choosing to toss my slippery body down an even MORE slippery chute didn't really rank high on my To-Do list. However, being with my sisters I definitely wanted to keep up. And after a few I started to gain some confidence (once I figured that the bolts holding the tube in place weren't going to pop-out suddenly and send me 3 stories to the ground), I actually started to have fun. So much so that I VOLUNTEERED to go on the next big slide. Without hesitation I climbed to the top of the stairs and before I knew it I was careening back all the way to the pool below. Truthfully, I was a little scared when I felt myself lifting up due to some unexpected drops, but the fact that my big sister Hillary told me she was proud was well worth it.

3. Marshmallow- my pet bunny. There was a time when we were kids that we all decided we wanted our own pets. We loved our dog, Abby, but I guess her novelty began to wain (especially since she wasn't allowed upstairs, in the living room, OR family room). I can't remember who got theirs first, but Hillary had her pet bird, Iago, while Lindsay had Bernard the Hamster (and yes they are both characters from Disney movies--does that prove we were brainwashed or the fact that Hillary had over 20 Disney figurines in her room...or maybe that I used to watch the promotional video they sent us like an actual movie...yeah, you got us you evil evil corporation). Anyway, since they had their feathered and furry friends (and I was sick of flushing two-day old dead goldfish) my mother finally promised me a rabbit for my birthday. Before that time, however, we had some tragedies: Iago was found dead at the bottom of his cage one morning, while Bernard made a truly miraculous escape (only to be found alive in our neighbors garbage can while they were taking out the trash) but died a few days later--there's something very poignant about that, or maybe I'm still hung up on the Lost ending. Anyway, to soothe their pains (or just to butt in on MY thing) they got rabbits as well: Hillary's was a grey and white one she named Thumper (stick your royalties up your ass Disney). Lindsay's, a chocolate brown one, had a Prince/The Artist Formerly Known as Prince thing going on since she changed the name from Brownie to Fuzzhead every other week. Mine was simple- Marshmallow- named so b/c of her all white fur. When I first spotted her she looked one of those magician rabbits, yet she was so soft and fluffy she just reminded me of the white candy. Also, she had these crazy hot-pink eyes (which I guess means she was albino), which def sold me. I used to love to put her on my chest and stroke her while I was reading on our back porch during the summer. But as tends to happen, the reality of actually caring for an animal began to set in. We neglected them a bit and then one day my mom told me Marshmallow was sick. I was upset but didn't know what to do. I went out to stroke her from time to time, but to see her look so skittish and yellow (no longer the vibrant white) broke my heart so much I couldn't bear going out to see her. Finally, my mom came to pick me up from school one bright afternoon, and turned around in the driver's seat.


"Honey, Marshmallow died."

Of course I cried a bit, feeling not just the loss but a huge amount of guilt. I felt responsible for her death (ironically due to my irresponsibility). Lately I've been really pushing for us to get a dog, which makes me think alot about ol' Marshmallow. Hopefully the mistakes I made with her won't be repeated, but I'm sure the love will be.

4. Remembering to never judge a book...- There was a girl in high school named Julie Hoffmann that sat near me in French class. She had honey blond hair and always wore thick black eyeliner. She was new, so since there was an open seat near me Ms. Ennis assigned her there. We never spoke too much, only occasionally when she had to pass something to me or borrow a pencil. But when we did lightly chat I figured she was nice enough. As it turned out, she was also in my English class, though we sat further away. I noticed some kids chuckling and realized they were doing so at Julie. I felt awful, but being that I was pretty low on the social totum pole myself, I said nothing (I probably even joined in, knowing my cowardice). And when we found out that she had died suddenly in an awful car accident, I felt I could never really forgive myself. I tried to assuage my guilt thinking I never really knew her, so what was I supposed to do? I had that same laissez-faire attitude with another student at school. It was right after the Columbine tragedies and one student was accused of planning to harm the school. Wanting to appear under control while at the same time preventing any law suits we were unofficially given liberal leave, which many of us took advantage of--only to go to the nearest hang out and talk about who it was. I joined in, like a lemming off a cliff, into the badmouthing and criticizing. I thought I wouldn't think about it again until I actually met the guy, and realized how foolish I had been. We ended up having mutual friends and began to hang out once in a while. He is not only one of the most laid back yet passionate people I have ever met, he is also the bravest. He enlisted into the army and went overseas for long extended periods of time, often in frightening areas. It makes me sick to think how I could have been so close-minded and judgmental when I didn't even know what a tremendous guy he is. I have sadly lost touch with him since I moved to Baltimore, but I always think of him whenever I see the posters or commercials for the army...and wonder what lucky person is getting a lesson on acting or horror movie trivia from him.

There are tons of memories that I would like to lock up somewhere safe, but I figured this is a good start- and it goes along with the Memorial Day theme, don't you think?

If this one was a little on the depressing side, fear not. I had to get this one off my pathetically small chest, but I got a whole bag of crazy for youall. Until tomorrow then fan-a-reenos!

Reality Bites

I had a friend back in high school who I once tried to engage in a conversation with about some TV episode and she just shrugged her shoulders and said, "I'm not a big TV person." Not a TV person? For someone who literally considered Xena (Warrior Princess) and the guys on the Satellite of Love as personal confidantes I almost couldn't wrap my mind around that statement. Everyone I knew watched television (though none so much as me--I say shamefully). Hell, I used to use babysitting my younger brother as an excuse to not go out. (I can hear the collective sound of everyone who knew me back then saying "Ahh the last piece of the puzzle". Oh well, I think admitting you have a problem is the first step towards recovery, right?) But even if you weren't a total shut-in weirdo like me, I wondered how someone, with all the options out there could physically avoid television. Then again, she was different than me: social, active in sports, involved in clubs...you know, everything I tended to shun.

But while everyone else was busy getting their "high school experiences", I have a plethora of memories of first and final episodes, monumental guest stars, edgy stories....so many memories.

The reason I write about this now is because I was thinking back to some of my fav or most memorable commercials.

Believe it or not, VW commercials had the best songs.

Remember this one about the two guys who picked up the chair? The "Da da daa" song. Yeah, you know you do, and you're welcome...good luck keeping that song out of your head for another decade.

And actually, it was because of another VW commercial that I discovered the song, "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake (THE best late-night summer driving song).

I can never not smile when I see commercial for MasterCard (or Visa, or American Express, I can't remember but whatever it's called) with all the smiley-faces made out of unusual objects. I don't know why, but it just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

But the BEST commercial I have ever seen that makes me laugh like a madman every time I see it (and am sad that they retired it) is the one for Tide-to-Go. If you haven't seen it, go on Google or Yahoo or whichever engine you fancy and watch it. Funniest 30 secs of your life, especially at the end ("Now in a MINI!")...

Before you reign your pity on me like ticker-tape at a parade, let me say in my defense that they make TV shows ABOUT commercials. So the fact that I note particularly special ones for me can't mean I'm that pathetic right? Ah well, enough from you people...Will & Grace is starting...