Dear CTA,
We both know I'm one for excitement. I mean, come on. I wouldn't partake in your services were I not!
However, I don't know how appreciative I am of times when the El car I am on catches fire. Smoke is cool and flames can be sometimes, but still...endangering passengers lives is not.
Be thankful that Chicago residents are dull and robotic when they ride the El, otherwise, rather than calmly exiting the car and complacently standing on the platform, we would have rioted and set fire to more of your cars as you rolled away with a cloud of smoke trailing behind you.
Best wishes,
CC
Friday, October 22, 2004
An Open Letter to the CTA
Sunday, October 17, 2004
By David Brooks
SCHIEFFER And our first question goes to
KERRY Bob, I'm glad you asked me that question, but before I dodge it I'd like to thank you for moderating this debate, I'd like to thank Arizona State University for being such wonderful hosts and I'd like to thank Dick Cheney's daughter for being a lesbian - in case anybody didn't know.
Bob, as you know, this nation is on the brink of an apocalyptic catastrophe. Civilization as we know it is hanging on by a thread. Our culture has collapsed, our economy is in tatters, the human spirit is extinguished, children never laugh, God is dead, and families like Dick Cheney's are ashamed of their daughters, one of whom is a lesbian. All of this is because of
Did you know that right here in Arizona the average share of the national debt on a per capita basis is rising faster than the inverse of the median lost wages ratio of the typical swing voter in Ohio, Missouri and Florida combined?
Bob, when I'm president, we're going to have a president as gloomy as this country should be. But the difference is that I have a plan to balance the budget. In fact I have seven plans. Seven and a half if you count the one I was working on in the limo, not even counting subclauses. When I'm president, our country is going to marry a really rich country, which will pay for everything. Thank you.
SCHIEFFER Mr. President?
BUSH You need a plan. I know that. I'm president. I wake up every day looking for a plan. In fact, I supported Mitch McConnell's plan. But my opponent voted to raise taxes 1,500 gazillion bazillion times. He even voted for some of my budgets, which have created deficits as far as the eye can see! He's a liberal!
The first thing we need to do is cut back. I'm not going to have a flu shot this year. I'm not even going to take a Tylenol. I'm going to have a root canal right here on this stage without Novocain. But we also need to declare an international war on deficits.
I'm excited about 19-year-old girls in Afghanistan who are voting in favor of the line-item veto for the first time ever. I'm excited about the millions of Iraqis who have been liberated from Saddam's Hussein's trial lawyers and their frivolous lawsuits.
SCHIEFFER According to the prearranged rules of this debate, each candidate will now have two minutes to spew forth sentimental blather in order to connect with the American people.
KERRY Thank you Bob. I'm a Catholic. I was an altar boy. In Nativity plays I was usually cast as one of the posts holding up the manger. I know that a lot of people are tired of politicians who just tell them what they want to hear. America, I want to look you in the eye and pledge I will never pander to you.
Spirituality is important to me. I've always felt that we humans are insignificant maggots scuttling across the muck of the universe, and that life itself is just a meaningless moment of agony between the suffocating stench of the womb and the foul decay of the grave.
SCHIEFFER Thanks for that uplifting message. Mr. President?
BUSH America, we've been through a lot together. Imagine how bad things would be if I'd made any mistakes. But we've come through it.
We haven't enforced the Dred Scott decision. And what about my timber company? Can you believe the networks? Oh, never mind. Do you want some wood? How late does this go, anyway? I'm losing it.
SCHIEFFER As I was driving in tonight one thing occurred to me: All three of us are surrounded by strong women. What the hell are we doing up here? Why aren't they running the country?
KERRY Bob, it's true that I am married. She's my second wife, to be precise. Can't recall her name at the moment, but she's fully funded. And I've got two beautiful daughters. Heterosexuals, both of them.
I want to tell you about my family unit and what it means to me. We're in the 79th percentile in most demographic categories. Our compatibility fitness score is within the standard deviation for median households worldwide. ...
This Stuff
I expected college to be a lot like a series of monologues, where each individual would get a moment of self-declaration and in that moment, we completely mature, learn, and grow. But that hasn't happened and I don't think it will any time soon.
Instead, "College," the theater show, is set on a stage that has been designed as a cest pool of competition, gossip and hormones, where, we the players ("college students") port North Face fleece, Nalgenes, and five-hundred pages of reading for each week, and off stage right, parents and authority figures tell us to function.
"College" should really be a musical instead. Oh, wait. Waa Mu definitely already did that. But they didn't have a musical scene in a library--and that needs to happen.
Last night I was lying in bed thinking about all the things that had happened to me in a week's time. I'm positive nothing happened to me during the entire LENGTH of summer that compared in terms of dramatic interest. More dramas should be set on college campuses.
I've been cryptic lately with everybody. I apologize.
My backyard is big with big trees, divided in half by a white fence that runs the width of the green space. Stretching away from our back door and porch, there is a patio, a walkway to our pool, the white wooden fence, and then another stretch of lawn where our barn flanks the right side and my old wooden swingset flanks the left.
When I was seven, I'd run the entire backyard in circles. I'd start at the backdoor's steps, run crosswise toward my swingset, climb the swingset and jump down, run the width of the yard to the barn, turn, follow the white fence down toward the big tree with the old swing (where I once fell and scraped open my chin), around the pool (keeping my distance from the edge like Mom asked me to), and then leap over the lavender bushes.
Once, as I tried to jump those bunches of lavender in one leap, I thought to myself (as I fell into the grass and proceeded to roll down the hill toward the patio in one motion), "Someday, I'll look back and think about this and I'll know I was really lucky."
And I was right. I do look back. And I was lucky. Everything was simple, and even though I knew it, I couldn't appreciate it.
I think I'm going to jump in leaves later this week and maybe run around campus. I think I'd smile if I saw someone else doing it in between classes or at night on their way to the library, so maybe I should go for it
Tuesday, October 5, 2004
Monday, October 4, 2004
An Open Letter to God
(Upon Spending Hours in Library and After a Late Beach Walk Full of Introspection the Previous Night)
Monday, October 4, 2004
Dear God,
Please don't let me become just another college student on her way to just another grad school, who will ultimately lead just another suburban-working-mother life. Help me make my life interesting and fill it with the unexpected. Remind me when my eyes glaze over with humdrum existence that a world lives outside of me, begging to be breathed in, exhaled, and experienced. Shake me at my foundation and challenge me daily.
Help me make my life extraordinary, if only for the reason that I lived it.
With much love,
CC
PS. Good job with that whole running the world thing. I'm very impressed. Oh, and could you maybe throw a vote left in this upcoming election? Thanks!
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
New Starts
I haven't thought about the smell of John Freidman's Brilliant Brunette shampoo in a long time.
In fact, maybe I've never thought about it.
But today, while lathering on that first sudsy layer of the chestnut colored shampoo, a rush of memories from last school year overswept me. It was like I was at the end of winter quarter and the beginning of spring quarter all over again. My brain reacted to the smell and I began to worry about all the things I was worrying about then. Papers. Relationships. The pervasive smell of BO in the hall.
And while I was in Minnesota, using my mom's conditioner from home, the sickeningly sweet aroma of Pantene Pro-V resurfaced memories from high school. Disgustingly perfect situations. White picket fences and such.
........
As expected, my room sits in the shadow of Evans Scholars. Despite a slight din, I love what my room has come to be so far and I have loved being at school in every moment since arriving. The freshmen look to be wonderful and this year will be great.
(but I have no expectations.)
Sunday, September 5, 2004
Sentiment Abounds...
Ahh... and another close to another summer.
Although mine hits a little earlier than usual this year, and I suppose it truly IS NOT the end of summer, considering I am going on a vacation, then moving in and not having class until the 22nd... but just to call things even, let's say this is the end of summer.
I really dreaded coming home this summer. I had no idea what to expect from relationships, working, family, and just about every other extension of life that exists. As it turned out, summer ended up being pretty much a blast, if a somewhat quiet and dull blast, but a blast nonetheless. (And we can all use some quiet blasts... I think...)
This summer, as several of my friends and I have agreed upon, was meant to be an exercise in patience, stretching boundaries, and discovering self.
I worked in the same environment, but for the first time, I really genuinely enjoyed it and I got to be closer with my co-workers on the job and even off, which was nice. I finally had a rocking manager who would say things like "Fuck these shirts," while folding them.
I hung out with many of the same people, but the allotted time with all changed.
Some groups of friends, unfortunately, became drastically less, and I'm not sure I'll ever know why that happened.
People changed in the nine months I was gone, in ways that I could not recognize in the periods of time I was home for breaks. Despite the fact that while some of these changes were positive, many were negative, I find that the impact of all of these changes have been positive for me.
I have only become a stronger, more independent, and, therefore, happier person because of the changes my friends have undergone.
Although I didn't read nearly as many novels as I wanted to this summer, I found myself reading more current events than before and felt that I spent my free time well what with doodling, drawing, writing, photography taking, rural-Ohio driving/soul-searching, and finally finding the answers and making decisions about problems that have faced me for years. (No exaggeration.)
I have felt particularly validated in the last few days, spending time with Skraps Eitak (aka: Katie Sparks) and talking with her about many things. Tonight we discussed our shared dislike for the flighty and flirty female and our hope that many girls will stop blaming guys for any set-backs they face, and look to themselves to push themselves forward, and without the help of any boyfriend/fiancée/husband. Perhaps it was scary feminism-talk, but perhaps that's just what we need. I decided I'm happier than I've been with myself in months and a lot of it has to do with the feeling of accomplishment, independence, and strength I've felt recently.
I guess I'm just very quietly happy.
Although I enjoyed this summer, didn't swim enough, breathed the sweet grass of Ohio, adventured in fields and forests, partied with friends, both took classes and taught, got to wear casual to work, bonded with newer closer friends, and developed a new appreciation for the meaning of "home," I think that I might be done with "home" for summers.
I've loved it here, but things will change more and I've got my own life to lead and that comes first before everything. And that's exciting.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Pretense.
So whilst talking to Brandon on the phone this afternoon, I got a beep on my other line. I unwittingly walked into the lair that houses disgruntled and uppity Medill secretaries and aides.
I had emailed a prof in Medill for the course I want to take come fall quarter that had filled in the section I wanted. The only section open, which I would have signed up for, conflicted with my schedule. I sent this email that I worked on for quite a while to word "just right," and make sure he knew how much I wanted to get into this other section so I could take the course.
When I answered the beep, I got a garble of introductions from a haughty woman on the other line, all I caught was Northwestern University. I deduced that she must be calling about my class switch.
Before I could say more than hello, she hissed into the receiver, "You DO realize, I'm SURE, that you CANNOT BE a journalism major."
Excuse me?
She went on to spit and steam about how I was in CAS (woah! is that what school i applied to because NU's damned admissions office made journalism sound impossible?? oh right!) and how I couldn't be a journalism major because of that.
Right, I said. It was my intention to take this course as a student in CAS and provided that, as will most likely happen, I enjoy the course, I will apply to transfer into Medill for winter quarter.
(let it be known, if you don't know already, this decision has been a huge struggle for me...the last thing i need is some lower end registrar telling me what to do with my life.)
Wellll, she huffed, It is difficult, if not nearly impossible, for sophomores to transfer into Medill. It's hard to get into the Medill School of Journalism as a freshman.
(Hey, thanks for the encouragement and words of advice...)
Well, I said, Regardless, I want to take this course.
She quickly exhaled a curt and disapproving "hmph."
I sat on the other line while she grumbled complaints and put-downs for five minutes, changing my schedule.
Thanks so much for your help, I said earnestly when she finished.
Not even a "you're welcome," but rather I got a final word from her: Well, just because you're IN this class doesn't mean you're a journalism major. Very few people are accepted as transfers into Medill. If you don't do well in this class, you might as well not get your hopes up.
Wow.
I sometimes want to take a reality stick and beat people with it. Or maybe certain organizations.
Get over yourself, I'd say as I beat them with the hard oak of get-real.
Fortunately, I received an email from the professor this afternoon, asking me if all went well with my class switch. He said if there was any reason it didn't go smoothly, to contact him and he'd fix things.
Maybe I should tell him to fire his uppity secretary.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Are YOU a BAD SHOPPER???
It's about time I rant about retail. I've done it oh-so little.
CASE 1:
Sometimes, stores close. This unfortunate calamity, in fact, happens every day...in EVERY store...except for, perhaps, your local Kroger.
When stores close, it's not the employees' faults.
We, the employees, do not choose when we are open and when we are closed. If we could, we would, but we can't.
So, please. Do the employee a favor... Don't throw slut-phrases around like:
"Weeeehlp, mah daughtah an' I travel ah who' hour tah get 'ere. Y'all didn't make yer announcement thatchy'all were closin' like y'always do."
Well, ma'am, I'm sorry. We do close at six.
(NOTE: there is NO announcement, nor has there ever been one. I'd gladly get on a loudspeaker and tell people to "Kindly make your final (damn) purchases and make your way (haul some freaking ass up) to buy your items (shit).")
"Weeeeeehl, that geeeeeeerhhhllll back dere in y'all's fittin' room done said mah daughtah can't try her clothes on."
Well, ma'am since we do close at six, we can't let anyone back after closing since the registers will close. And you have the option of returning all your items and receiving the full price for which you paid them, should you keep your receipt during the 90 day return period.
(NOTE: "the registers will close:" A white lie told to all customers. The registers cannot actually be closed until the last customer leaves the store and the doors are locked behind him and/or her. Don't believe retailers who tell you that load of crap.)
"Weeeeeeehl, none of this 'ere clothin' will prolly fit mah daughtah. An' we all live an hour away from this 'ere Old Navy."
Well, ma'am, I'm sorry (you live out in the middle of nowhere and) our store is inconveniently placed (in this suburban shopping center. God knows that it's never ever shopped at ALL and we constantly get complaints about how its location directly between Best Buy and Barnes and Noble marks its desolate position.)
CASE 2:
Location: That inconveniently-placed Old Navy
Day and time: Sunday, 6:15-6:35 pm
Regular closing time on said day: 6 pm.
Number of customers still in said location: 1
Location of said customer: Register 6
Time said customer has spent at said register: 20 minutes
Brief transaction description:
--customer began transaction, requesting use of expired coupon
--customer said she did not need gift receipts
--after half of transaction is rung up, customer requests gift receipts for certain previously rung items
--customer requests cashier's assistance: "What size would a girl who looks like she's 30 in the face, 12 in the body, but she's 16, wear?"
--customer returns to store floor to grab new sizes in girl's size based on cashier's compromise suggestion of a size 14, since the girls' department does not carry a size 30, and clothing sizing is never based on faces.
--customer returns with new items, changes mind on some as they are rung up
--customer comments that she does not, in fact, know her own son's size, asks cashier if she would know
--cashier responds, surprisingly, that she does not know the customer's son's size
--customer's cell phone (with loud annoying song) rings at approximately 6:30, mystery-size son calling
--customer asks son following questions: "What size do you wear? I already chose a bunch."..."What's your favorite color denim, the one blue or the other blue?"..."Does Sissy like pants?"
--when transaction is totaled, customer attempts to use expired coupon again
--cashier takes coupon, throws it away
--6:35, customer leaves
CASE 3:
Character description: The BAD PARENT, (usually accompanied by one to three BAD CHILDREN)
-BAD PARENT is male or female, usually parent to young BAD CHILDREN
-Most likely, BAD PARENT is dressed very nicely, while his and/or her BAD CHILD is dressed in rags
-Discipline for BAD PARENT involves combat and/or screaming
-Misbehavior from BAD CHILD involves combat and/or screaming
Sample scene 1:
OLD NAVY CASHIER: Hi, ma'am! Did you find everything you needed today?
BAD PARENT (not listening to ONC, yells at son, age 8): Joey!! Get your butt over here or else we're not having dinner tonight!
JOEY (enters from stage left): MOOOOOM!!!!! You SAID I could get a DOG BONE! I WAAAAAANT a dog bone!!!! YOU SAID!
BP: Shut your mouth, Joey! THAT'S IT!! You're done!!!
ONC (while ringing last item): And is that it for you today, ma'am? Did you want to open an Old Navy Account and save ten percent on this and your next purchase?
BP: Shit. No. Yeah, that's it. No credit cards for me, thanks. (pauses, watching son who is currently sticking hangers in electric outlets and kicking over piles of clothing) JOEY!!! Get over here NOW.
J: I HATE YOU, MOM! YOU SAID!
++++++++++++++++
Sample scene 2:
PREGNANT BP stands in line at register with shopping cart in front of her. Her three-week old INFANT/NOT-YET RUINED CHILD is in the built-in car seat of the shopping cart. Her BAD CHILD/TODDLER is running around the front display, grabbing shirts and throwing them.
PREGNANT BP is distracted by ONC and turns back on both INFANT and TODDLER.
TODDLER runs around display twice, then at cart, jumps on end of cart, sending cart tipping over on its end, pinning TODDLER underneath and sending INFANT sailing six feet in air and landing on head on concrete floor.
++++++++++++++++++
Now then. I'd, unfortunately, be lying if I said any of the above wasn't true. So I just would like to make a plea.
I know you're the customer. You come first. We all do because we're all customers.
But please.
Take pity on the poor salesperson, who hath giveth his soul to the dark demon of Retail. He knoweth not what he does and what dark lord he serveth. Easeth his suffering with quick responses, a kind smile in return to the one giveth to you, and every once in a while, openeth a credit card account. He will feeleth your mercy.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Just when you thought this town was boring...
Don't open your mouth too soon, everyone. The excitement level for the summer picked up a few notches in one surprise swoop.
Today started as your usual day, with the exception of going out for a "last supper (ie: Chipotle lunch)" with Michael. I was awoken by my mom at 10:30, lounged in bed, got a call from Brandon at 11... you know... nothing spectacular that you want to read about.
But then...
As I was drying my hair in my bedroom, my parents come galavanting in, yelling something about a mystery being solved.
As my parents made me guess what the solved mystery is and I grabbed for my pink kimono to cover myself up (since they HAD just barged into my room unannounced and obviously hyped up), my dad waved around some plant leaf in his hand.
And thus, mystery solved indeed.
Marijuana.
Growing in our backyard.
On our property.
For some reason, this was really exciting for me too, and I got up and bounced around my room, laughing. I really don't know why, doing that made a lot of sense at the time.
We all laughed as pieces of the bizarre neighbor puzzle came together.
Flashlights and whispering in our property line bushes at night...
Mysterious vehicles coming at the wee hours of the morning to our neighbor's house...
Loud raucous laughing, you know the laugh I mean, at seemingly nothing.
I should really clarify, though. This neighbor is actually my neighbor, Jerry's tenent. He lives in a smaller house on Jerry's property and takes care of the pool and yard and such. He's always been a little weird and the like.
He's the type who will yell things like "FUCK THIS BULLSHIT!!!!" at the top of his lungs in broad daylight. I think we all have a neighbor like that, or at least someone in close proximity. Or maybe we ARE that person...
Anyhaps, so in about the course of an hour, the police came and questioned my family and poked around the bushes and then went to our neighbor's to do whatever it is they do in these situations.
Seriously. Summer excitement level, increased from about a 2.3 to a 7.0 today.
I suppose if I really wanted to increase the level more, I would have picked some of the plant and have it hanging in my basement to dry right now, but I did not do that. So, summer excitement level will probably plateau back down to about a 4.0.
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