Thursday, August 31, 2006

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

So, Rand...

I actually just made myself laugh out loud. I felt like a crazy, old cat lady -- minus the cats -- alone in my little apartment laughing at myself.

See, I've been listening to both the Jimi Hendrix original "Bold as Love" and the new John Mayer cover of it -- you know, for analytical purposes. Well, I was sitting here at my computer, wasting time by looking at Seattle Weekly online, and singing the song. (It wasn't long before I realized that I could have been listening to the real musicians sing the actual songs via iTunes.) The end of the chorus goes, "Yeah, they're all bold as love / Just ask the axis." Now, honestly, I wasn't even aware I was singing. You see, that's what happens when you're the cat lady. You start performing socially unacceptable behaviors without any cognition of it. But a little something jolted me out of my neurosis: I sang the lyrics like this, with every ounce of sincerity that I have, "Yeah, they're all bold as love / Just ask the atlas."

Okay, I realize that it's not that funny. After all, I think the atlas is more capable of answering any kind of question than the axis. It's just, well, that my subconscious self wholeheartedly believed that those were the lyrics. I guess you had to be there, but of course you weren't or I wouldn't have been singing to begin with. I hope.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006


Thank God.

I got to listen to a preview of John Mayer's new record tonight on Star 98.7. All I can say is that it is convincing. Believable. Know what I mean? It doesn't seem like he's trying to be anything. I know he's said that he wouldn't release it until it felt perfect, and I think he did a good job. No song, from what I can tell from one listen, seems like it was thrown in for the sake of having another song. I'm not sure if this makes sense, but this record feels 3-D. Each song does. It makes everything that came before it feel a little on the thin side.

But anyway, you can ignore all this because love at first sight isn't reliable. We'll see, though.

And P. S. This article is a good example of why I love John Mayer. He uses the word "opine" for goodness' sake. What more might one ask for?

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Down home, down low

Every great now and then, I try to cook something. Indeed, I was inspired the description Jenny gave last night of her most recent culinary masterpiece that sounded vaguely reminiscent of something baked in a wood-fired oven full of hand-hewn cedar chips fresh from the Alaskan forest. In creative response, I -- of course -- decide that I'm going to try my hand at turnip greens.

First off, I am not sure what my recent obsession with turnip greens is. On a whim, I tried some at the Shoney's in Donelson, and they were amazing. Granted, I've had turnip greens before, but these really struck my fancy. Ever since that fateful encounter, I have been on the hunt for turnip greens as good as these. Several plate lunches later, I am still at a loss. And the canned versions at the store look like the same lumpy mush I get in the restaurants -- not the leafy glory from Shoney's. So today, while perusing the produce at WalMart, I decide I'm going to cook my own. Fresh.

After piecing together the logical parts of about three recipes I found online, I cooked me some turnip greens. I even "cooked them down real low" -- whatever that means -- as every person who celebrates the turnip green knows is the proper preparation. And what do I get? Mush.

This is why I don't cook. I mean, my greens were edible and all, but I would just as soon go to Shoney's. And that's why I will live my life broke.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Lessons Learned, Courtesy Summer 2006

When one lives out of a suitcase – or several suitcases – personal items tend to go missing.

I have a very long way to go on my quest to speak Spanish with a modicum of fluency.

While rainbows are often considered signs of peace, they are, for my family anyhow, more like harbingers of hard times to be gotten through safely.

I really will miss being a computer lab supervisor.

Getting around without my own personal means of transportation is not nearly as difficult as it may seem, but having my car back is like reuniting with an old friend.

Slipping knives into your mother's carry-on luggage is only funny after airport security clears you to board by reason of insanity.

Mountains really are my favorite vacation destination. To look at -- not to climb.

Changing my own guitar strings really is not the insurmountable task I had assumed.

General household cleaning really ought to be done on a regular -- preferrably weekly -- basis rather than attempting a huge overhaul once every two years.

Having a camera means nothing if you don't carry it with you. Subsequent lesson: Having a bulky camera is incredibly inconvenient.

Pay very close attention to bills from Murray State University.

I really do love music. I am still on a Ray LaMontagne high, by the way.

And lastly, I know I've said it multiple times before, but many things have made it apparent to me that this particular summer is a very distinct dividing line between two eras of my college career -- the first four years and these last 1.5 years. I can name you some very obvious differences between these two chapters, but I get the sense that it's something more. I don't know what that is yet, but I have my eyes open.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Too many things left to be unsaid

So, I'm Mexico. It's true.

Today, instead of tagging along with some Carhartt folks, I stayed in bed kind of late. (By "kind of late" I mean late enough for the maid to ask me if I was sick. Mm, no. Just lazy.) I don't have the means -- or the balls, honestly -- to meander about the city by myself, so sleep seemed like the best answer. I'm getting picked up at 1:00 so I can go sit in on five hours' worth of Spanish and English classes. The English teacher is the craziest Grammar Nazi known to man. During his smoke break yesterday, we debated the pretentiousness of impeccable grammar and the differences between American and Canadian English. My kind of fun. Things: So far, so good.

Along the lines of language: Holly had mentioned the author Bill Bryson to me a while back. Well, during my most recent tryst with Barnes & Noble, this guy's name was spied out of the corner of my eye in the philosophy section. With much interest indeed, I picked up one of his books called Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language in the United States. Oh, what a perfect pair, me and this book. I enjoy it so much that I even put in some quality reading time during the flight down here. That's saying something.

Rumor has it that I will finally have my car back when I return from this little jaunt. These two months without the Buick have been trying times. It will be nice to have it back.

Time for the shower, but before I go, I have a comment or two on the land of Mexico: Tell me, what is up with it being 70 degrees? I mean, I am eternally grateful, but something about this doesn't seem right. And the sky is big. I mean, huge. I had no idea how little the sky is at home. I hate to sound as cheesy as John in "3x5," but there are clouds and mountains for as far as the eye can see, and here, that's pretty dang far. But I do have my camera, so let's hope for some photos.