blakspring

Act 1:

Two students, a boy and a girl, walk into the library at the tail-end of the school day.

Boy: I like the library. It’s the place to be.

Girl: Why?

Boy: ‘Cause it’s mad quiet up in here.

.

Act 2:

Two women drinking iced coffees on the subway. The rumble drowns out some of the dialog.

Woman #1: He asks me for money everyday. Everyday it’s like “give me…” (rumble)

Woman #2: Yeah, I don’t like that. I mean you can ask once or twice… (rumble)

Woman #1: You know what, he’s a smoocher.

Woman #2: You’re right, he is a smoocher.

Woman #1: Yeah, he smooches off of people.

Because I’m tired of my own claptrap (and because I am determined to be asleep by 10:00 pm), I am not going to whine and moan about anything tonight. And as you all breathe a sigh of relief, go check out this very clever website. Miranda July made it after writing her book of stories No One Belongs Here More Than You. Just follow the pink arrow in the bottom corner (but make sure you click on “the beginning” - you’ll see what I mean).

The site is so simple yet completely ingenious. It sums up for me the difference between artists and the rest of the world. If Ms. July was bottling her creativity, I would buy at least a crate full. If it only came in syringes I would celebrate with a black-and-blue bottom. And if it was in powder form I would snort enough to make Kate Moss jealous.

One of my favorite perks of working in a school is the fact that I get to end my work day relatively early. On the days that I drive in (which lately is everyday because I’m lazy and also because 30 extra minutes of sleep is priceless when you start work at 7:30 a.m.), I can be home by 3:30 on a good day. In August, when I knew that I was getting the job, I started making mental lists of all the amazing things that I would do with all the extra time that I would have: finally learn to play that damn bass, blog more regularly, go to the gym after work before all the 9-to-5 people pack in, and read more. Out of this (rather unexciting) list, I’ve managed only the last item with some satisfaction. The bass has been completely neglected for months, eating chocolate on the couch has taken precedence over running on a treadmill, and I don’t even have to tell you guys about the blogging bit.

Sometimes it almost feels like I actually had more time when I got home from work at 6:00 or 7:00 or even 9:00 p.m.. Maybe it’s because I knew that I had less time so I made more of an effort to do things. I feel like I even see D less these days. We used to watch two or three DVDs every week and now it’s an accomplishment if we can watch one movie in that time. I guess a big part of this is because the flip side of starting work early and getting out early is having to go to bed early. D doesn’t have any set hours but he’s often most busy in the evenings. He’s also going to MMA classes twice a week (usually Tuesday and Thursday) while I’ve got my Monday night volleyball. It feels like we are constantly missing each other; one walking in the door while the other is about to walk out. Which is why right now I’m on the couch with my laptop wondering when I will see the final showdown between Beowulf and Grendel’s mother, or Grendelina as D so wittily dubbed her.

We finally had some time earlier today, and popped in the movie while enjoying a lazy pizza dinner. But then D had to go see a client and by the time he gets back I will most likely be asleep. He also got roped into driving upstate and back tomorrow as a family favor, and Thursday he has to go see a client on the far side of Long Island. And I realize that Beowulf the movie is not exactly a cinematic miracle, and I probably wouldn’t have even rented it if it wasn’t for the fact that Angelina is in it (or at least her voice and digital rendering), but doesn’t it just suck to have to stop a movie halfway and not know when you’ll watch the rest?

And maybe this all makes me sound like a whiny brat because most people have a lot less time and actual responsibilities like kids or ailing parents but that’s precisely why I’m annoyed. I don’t have any of these things but the time disappears. At least if I had a child or even a dog it would make sense and I’d accept it. I don’t even have a single fish, though after several years break I feel ready to get another beta. Then I will have the satisfaction of knowing that for the 10 seconds each day that it will take me to feed it, I will be a responsible person losing that time in an honorable and decent way. Until then I seem to have no excuse for writing one of the most boring posts in blogging history.

I spent today working at a public library and since it was Mother’s Day there were very few patrons all day. I was at the reference desk in the Children’s Department, mostly signing up the few kids that did come in for a computer and doing some searches for last-minute school projects. At no point today were there more than 10 people in the children’s room so I got to relax and catch up with the other librarians. About an hour before closing, as I was at the desk with another librarian, a frazzled looking man in his late 40s or early 50s came up to us and said, “I need help.” We asked what he needed and he went on to explain that he locked himself out of the house. He had managed to open a side window but was unable to fit through. Therefore, he decided to come to the library to see if he could get a child who would be able to fit through his side window and open the door for him.

This is probably the weirdest request that I ever got from a patron. Sure sir, let me just wrangle up one of these kids for you. Little Johnny, go with this nice man and climb through his window, okay? I told him that he would have to speak with individual parents regarding their children and that there was nothing we could do. Part of me felt bad for the guy but the suspicious part of me was wondering if the story wasn’t a little too perfect. He seemed to have an answer for everything. We asked him if anyone else had a spare key but he replied that there had been one under the mat until he decided to bring it back into the house two weeks ago. Were there any other family members that could help him? No, his wife and daughter were at the spa. Could he ask one of his neighbor’s kids to climb through the window? No, he’d been living there for 25 years and everyone’s kids were grown up. (This last one I found very hard to believe, especially since we were in the suburbs, in a fancy neighborhood where having multiple kids seemed to be a status symbol, with an average of four or five per family.) “No”, he said. “It would have to be a small child. And I have a dog so the child can’t be afraid of dogs.”

There was nothing we could do to help him and finally he left. The other librarian and I wondered if we were on Candid Camera. Why not just call the police or a locksmith? Go and hang out in a neighbor’s house until his wife came home? Or ask a neighbor to drive him to get the keys from his wife? When he first came over and said that he was locked out of the house and that he couldn’t fit through the side window, I thought that he was going to ask me or the other librarian if one of us could try since we were much smaller than him. In fact, I almost volunteered myself until I started thinking about The Silence of the Lambs and other creepy stuff. I pictured myself climbing through the window, getting attacked by a killer Rottweiler, falling through a trap door, and being held hostage in an underground dungeon. No, I wasn’t about to go in there without backup. Or at least not without a box of doggy treats and a can of Mace.

D: Are you going to bed soon?

Me: Yeah…I just wanted to post something quick first. But I don’t want it to be some bullshit post.

D: Why don’t you write about me, and how I went to MMA (mixed martial arts), and how I would’ve been home an hour sooner but Adam from H2O wanted to spar and how do you say no Adam from H2O?

Me: Ummm, honey, that’s not very interesting.

D: Well neither is you picking at your nails on the couch.

So there you have it. There is just no way that anything I could’ve done in my ordinary day today that would’ve topped the excitement of meeting Dooce yesterday. And now I will shut up about Dooce.

Dooce!

Yes, it’s true. Today I met the queen of bloggers herself Heather Armstrong, a.k.a. Dooce. (Heather, if you actually read this, I hope you appreciate all the exclamation points in the title. I know how much you loooooooooooove extreme punctuation.) She and her husband Jon were in NYC because Heather was on the Today show. And since Heather recently put out a book with other bloggers, Things I Learned About My Dad, she organized an impromptu book signing/meet-and-greet in Brooklyn. I got there about an hour early because I am a stalker working in a school means I don’t work past 3:00 PM. When Heather and Jon finally walked through the door it was kind of surreal, like I somehow ended up in their blog. I ran up like a crazy person to introduce myself and they were super-friendly and completely awesome from the get-go. And tall. I mean, I knew that they were tall but seeing them in person made me feel like a hobbit.

Since I was pretty much the first person to get there, I actually got to hang out with them for a little bit before the insanity started. I wanted to ask so many questions but realized that I pretty much knew all the answers from reading the blog everyday. So Heather, what do you do? Duh. Do you have any kids? Duh. They probably thought I was a complete airhead or mildly retarded because I just sat there staring at them with a giant grin on my face. I did have enough self-restraint to not ask them to adopt me. While it was still relatively quiet, two other fans showed up and we all go to hang out and talk like good friends. And since it was the Armstrongs that I was hanging out with, you know the conversation was interesting - topics included polygamy, circumcising penises with one’s teeth, and the crazy bitch that is Kathy Lee Gifford.

There were a few more authors from the book including Sarah Brown, Alice Bradley, and Doug French. Soon it got so crowded that there must have been at least 40 people forming a line to meet Heather. My favorite line of the night was from a woman who came up to Heather and said, “You are like the Beatles for me right now”. They eventually ran out of books and people had to settle for getting napkins signed. At one point Jon turned to me and asked, “Did you think it would be like this?”. And I looked at him and said, “Yeah, actually I did.” “I didn’t. This is wild”, he said. And it was pretty wild, loud and crowded, and I felt like I was dreaming everything.

When I was finally leaving, Heather gave me a big hug and asked me for my blog and e-mail address. And I just about died at the thought that she might actually take a moment to peek into these pages. I hope she comes back to New York soon and I get to see her again. Or I might just show up on her doorstep in Salt Lake City with a sleeping bag under my arm.

I know that I’ve been very paranoid about putting photos of myself on the blog because I don’t want to be “dooced” (fired for writing a blog) but I think in this case I have to make an exception. So…drumroll…here is Heather and me:

Heather, Jon, and me:

Heather in all her tall goodness:

Alice, Doug, and me:

Sarah and me:

So go ahead and call me a blog groupie but I had a great time. Now I just have to meet Angelina Jolie and I can die happy.

Yeah, I know, it’s May. But early May so it’s not too bad:

I consider the Jesus Jones show to be my first real concert. I was in high school and had never even heard of Roseland; in fact, I thought that all music concerts were held at major stadiums. A friend offered me his extra ticket the day of the show and saying yes was the best spontaneous decision I ever made. Stereo MCs opened (you know you remember their song Connected) and rocked the joint, hyping the atmosphere for Jesus Jones who were awesome too. I spent the first hour going crazy in the mosh pit and being jealous of the crowd surfers. Finally I decided to just go for it and asked two big guys to get me up. It was so fuckin’ FUN and I was addicted, just floating up there being passed from hand to hand. That night was also the first time I smoked pot, though I didn’t know how to keep it in and the smoke would just come out my nose. Anyway, I was so high on adrenaline that I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. That night changed my life and I will always be indebted to my high school friend for the opportunity. Mario Garcia, if you ever read this, I love you dude - thank you.

The Liz Phair show was soon after Exile In Guyville came out and she was such a badass. She was so tiny with this big guitar and this low voice but it was more powerful than if she was screaming like a banshee. Why did she have to turn into a pop princess?

I don’t even remember the Mudhoney show. Ummm, I guess it wasn’t all that amazing.

This show was when Belly’s second album came out, the one that just didn’t quite do it for me. But they did a bunch of songs from Star so all was good. And how cute is Tanya Donelly.

I love Luscious Jackson’s first album In Search of Manny but was disappointed with their follow-up Natural Ingredients. Of course 90% of the songs they played were from the second album. I was wedged up right by the stage and kept screaming “Do one from Manny”. Finally Gabby the guitarist heard me and she said, “We will. Those are my favorite to play.” But they only played one or two - waaah. (If you’ve never listened to In Search Of Manny, give it a try. Especially the song Daughters Of The Kaos).

No Doubt is an awesome band that is so fun to see live but I definitely preferred the 1996 show. Tramp’s was a tiny venue and Gwen was in her Just A Girl phase, with her baggy pants and skater sneakers. The 2002 show was well done but the venue was larger and Gwen was in all her stylized Rock Steady glory, meaning she couldn’t jump two feet in the air like a maniac and do push ups on stage because the 3-inch heels got in the way.

Did I ever mention that besides a huge book collection my library has an enormous video collection? Yes, video as in VHS, as in some of the kids don’t know what it is. There’s got to be about 3000 videos, many of which are great classics, theater performances, art documentaries, etc. But there is also way too much garbage like How To Fill Out FAFSA Forms 1991-1992, Ernest Goes To Camp, and this beauty:

Are you jealous, bitches?

While watching scary and/or gross films or TV shows, I have a hard time eating. Especially sweets, cakes, and “mushy” foods. Not quite sure why though I think it started that one time in 8th or 9th grade when Ultra and I were watching Carrie at her house. It was dark and quiet and we were eating an Entenmann’s fudge cake out of the box. By the time the pig’s blood was pouring down all over poor creepy Carrie the fudgy mush in my mouth made me want to puke.

Tonight D and I watched 30 Days Of Night while having dinner. My strategy was to eat quickly before anything too gory happened. For dinner I had tried out a new recipe which included a home-made quasi-breadbowl. The meal was delicious but by the time I got to the end and only had the sauce-soaked bread left in my bowl, I just couldn’t finish it. Too much blood had been shed and my taste buds were rebelling. (Of course D had no problem eating his dinner and finishing up mine; *obviously this diet tip won’t work for everyone.)

Once I was done eating I could enjoy the movie. The only thing I couldn’t do was have dessert like I normally would. I kept thinking about the Ghirardelli chocolate in the pantry and the ice cream in the freezer. Nope, couldn’t do it.

Now I just have to download every Friday The 13th, Halloween, and Nightmare On Elm Street and I should be in shape by the end of the month.

This week my school is closed from Wednesday to Friday, essentially giving me a five-day weekend. D and I were planning on going to Newport, Rhode Island from Wednesday to Friday (we have a wedding on Saturday) but due to a combination of the weather dropping almost 20°, D getting a flood of client emergencies, and me waking up on Tuesday morning feeling achy and with a very sore throat, we ended up staying at home. I haven’t left the house since Tuesday afternoon and I feel a little stir crazy. Of course a slight case of cabin fever is definitely worth the fact that I seem to have nipped my illness in the bud and will probably be fully recovered by the morning.

On the other hand, being at home these two days gave me plenty of time to remember when D and I went to Newport a few years ago. We had a super time and knew that we would eventually go back. Some of the highlights of that trip were:

• eating lobster, and not just any lobster but the BEST LOBSTER IN THE WORLD
• going to the old-fashioned candy stores and buying way more fudge than two people should be legally allowed to buy
• going to the arcade and playing Time Crisis and other shooter games
• playing silly games of chance at the arcade to win tickets even though the 573 tickets that we won only got us a candy bar and a plastic necklace
• walking from the hotel, through the town, to the start of the Cliff Walk. Doing the entire Cliff Walk, walking back into town, and barely making it to our hotel. Realizing that we had somehow miscalculated the distances and that we basically walked about eight miles without food or water
• me having to pee really bad at the start of the Cliff Walk and finding that there are no bathrooms anywhere. Looking around, seeing that there is no one around us, pulling down my pants and undies, and going about my business…just as an SUV rounds the corner and parks not far from me
• finishing up my business as quickly as possible, pulling the undies and pants back up, grabbing D’s hand, and running away before anyone actually got out of the car

Oh Newport, how I wish we could’ve shared these last few days together.