Last Christmas break I dedicated my time to movie watching. This year I changed my medium slightly, turning to literature. Don't believe, even for a micro second, that I have not been watching inordinate amounts of film, however. Ever since I stopped spending between 8-9 hours a day playing 'Sim City 1995' I have found plenty of time in my day to do things I enjoy, such as playing 'Sim City 1998,' climbing trees, reading, and dry cleaning my shoes.
I recently finished my first book: The Tipping Point, a non-fiction work by Malcolm Gladwell, and I intend to give an exhaustive communique in the ensuing 1,000 pages.
It was good.
30 December 2009
28 December 2009
Five Year Reunion
Saturday I attended my five year high school at Clery's, a pub downtown known for its exceptionally crystal-clear glasses. Nothing is hazy at Clery's, although things can get a little foggy if you aren't careful. I was reticient about going at first but I am oh so grateful I did. I believe it was the first time since I went to an 18+ club right after high school that I had to show my ID. I pulled out my chipmunk-faced "under 21 until 2007" license with pride and a feeling of identity. It was more gratifying then when I was actually served alcohol- sans ID- in Puerto Rico.
Some highlights of the evening of revelry and visionary impairments included locutions with old friends and acquaintences, showing my ID to get in, drinking ice water for free ninety-nine, people asking me where my Mormon Peeps were, and broken down boundaries. However, it was quite loud. For example, I asked one classmate if his dad still lived in Belmont, and he told me yes, he did, and that in fact he was over on the other side of the room. He thought I had said "Dan" (his roommate), when really I had said "Dad," alluding to his previous roommate. He told me Dan was working on a PhD at UPenn, which puzzled me greatly since I thought he had just told me his Dad did still live in Belmont but was getting a PhD at UPenn, and had driven up to attend his son's five year reunion. People bring all sorts of significant others to reunions (boyfriends, girlfriends, fiances, dogs, and even a pet chinchilla) but a father was a first. The end of the story is that after my classmate left I turned to his girlfriend and asked her, "Sooo... Is his Dad really in the corner doing shots?" And then it was all made clear. Clery's is appropriately named. I am legitimately excited for my ten year reunion.
Some highlights of the evening of revelry and visionary impairments included locutions with old friends and acquaintences, showing my ID to get in, drinking ice water for free ninety-nine, people asking me where my Mormon Peeps were, and broken down boundaries. However, it was quite loud. For example, I asked one classmate if his dad still lived in Belmont, and he told me yes, he did, and that in fact he was over on the other side of the room. He thought I had said "Dan" (his roommate), when really I had said "Dad," alluding to his previous roommate. He told me Dan was working on a PhD at UPenn, which puzzled me greatly since I thought he had just told me his Dad did still live in Belmont but was getting a PhD at UPenn, and had driven up to attend his son's five year reunion. People bring all sorts of significant others to reunions (boyfriends, girlfriends, fiances, dogs, and even a pet chinchilla) but a father was a first. The end of the story is that after my classmate left I turned to his girlfriend and asked her, "Sooo... Is his Dad really in the corner doing shots?" And then it was all made clear. Clery's is appropriately named. I am legitimately excited for my ten year reunion.
26 December 2009
Home for the Holidays
I am home for the Holidays. What exactly does this two week sabbatical entail, asked my furry little friend? I told him to shave, and then responded with the following monologue:
At my house we have what's been appropriately titled the "Wall of Food." The Wall of Food sits plumply and prominently on the armoire of our dining room, and is composed of magic markers stuck together, end to end. Just kidding, it's made of junk food. (I think I said magic markers because my sister is giving me a Mike Tyson-esque tattoo over my eye in black marker right now, and I'm beginning to have second thoughts.) Every time you pass the Wall of Food, which inevitably happens every 25 seconds since I sleep on the dining room table, it is a family rule that you must consume at least enough chocolate that would be necessary to sustain an Amish colony for two months. It was piquant for the first three days but now I just feel like I need to be detoxed. It doesn't help that my only exercise has been in my fingers, namely typing. My sinewy digits are firm and tenacious while the rest of my body is more of a jolly rice pudding consistency. I suspect my internal chocolate has morphed into some sort of viscous blood stream, perhaps shifting me from B+ to C+, 'B' for blood and 'C' for chocolate. Sort of like a reverse Michael Jackson look. Being home is splendid. Tonight I am going to my five year reunion. The reunion -of course- of my lifeguard certification group. We were a tight circle of friends! When you're saving lives together, you really get to know one's true colors.
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