Leaving after work for a 10 hour drive always seems like a good idea. That's because driving through the night, through the Appalachian Mountains, sun roof open, playlist blaring, eating popcorn, and drinking gas station coffee is fucking awesome. With the right car load you can go seamlessly from Cyndi Lauper to Alabama without missing a beat.
Of course someone is bound to fall asleep, but as long as it's not the driver it's allowed. We pulled into a Days Inn about 60 miles from Manchester for a few hours of sketchy sleep and take the last showers we'd get for four days. We topped off with a Waffle House breakfast and are back on the road, preparing for the massive line that awaits.
Having spent the last several years living on the coast and in cities I forgot what the middle of the country looked like. Huh. There are a lot of trees. Nice.
Bonnaroo!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Apparently, Satan's Birthday
Bonnaroo! Woo! I'm attending this year's Bonnaroo festival in Manchester, TN. This is something I was more likely to do when I was younger, but I decided to let loose, throw caution to the wind, be forever young, and all that other cliche stuff people like me say when we pretend we're not old.
Also, that's my way of saying that I won't be able to update Oliver for a few days. I don't know what the IT department at Bonnaroo is like, but I'm guessing minimal at best.
I'm planning to do the whole camping, not showering, tent-sleeping, hippie ordeal. I'm leaning into it. I will have a good time, even if every fiber of my Midwestern fear-based upbringing being tries to fight it. Eating hot dogs and drinking beer for four days is good for me. I'm sure of it.
The title of the post is a reference to a ridiculous article put out by *someone* and posted on a crazy Christian website. I don't know if it's a parody or not. I'd link it, but if it is real, I don't want to give it any more credence. All you need to know is they pointed out Bonnaroo is scheduled on the same day as Satan's birthday (nope, that doesn't make sense) and they have histograms predicting the likelihood of "your daughter doing mouth sex." You know what, fuck it: the article is here: Bonnaroo - Happy Birthday Satan! It's actually pretty damn funny. As long as nobody takes this shit seriously.
I'll take some pictures - at least 10, and then they'll be up on the One day, Ten photos blog I participate in when I return. My weekend starts early, with a 10 hour car trip down to Tennessee. I hope it's as nice as I've heard.
Also, that's my way of saying that I won't be able to update Oliver for a few days. I don't know what the IT department at Bonnaroo is like, but I'm guessing minimal at best.
I'm planning to do the whole camping, not showering, tent-sleeping, hippie ordeal. I'm leaning into it. I will have a good time, even if every fiber of my Midwestern fear-based upbringing being tries to fight it. Eating hot dogs and drinking beer for four days is good for me. I'm sure of it.
The title of the post is a reference to a ridiculous article put out by *someone* and posted on a crazy Christian website. I don't know if it's a parody or not. I'd link it, but if it is real, I don't want to give it any more credence. All you need to know is they pointed out Bonnaroo is scheduled on the same day as Satan's birthday (nope, that doesn't make sense) and they have histograms predicting the likelihood of "your daughter doing mouth sex." You know what, fuck it: the article is here: Bonnaroo - Happy Birthday Satan! It's actually pretty damn funny. As long as nobody takes this shit seriously.
I'll take some pictures - at least 10, and then they'll be up on the One day, Ten photos blog I participate in when I return. My weekend starts early, with a 10 hour car trip down to Tennessee. I hope it's as nice as I've heard.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Codes and Keys: A Review
Death Cab for Cutie's new album, Codes and Keys, was released at the end of May. I downloaded it from Amazon and have been listening to it ever since. I've been a die hard DCfC fan since I lived in Mulilteo, WA- just 75 miles south of their Bellingham home. This was the early aughts - '02 to '03. I didn't see them live while I was there, but I was aware of the buzz. These guys were going to be the next big thing. I was already a few years behind on the band wagon.
If you're already a Death Cab fan, Codes and Keys is ... well, you probably already have it so there's no reason to finish the sentence. It's a good solid album. It does what Death Cab does best.
There were no real surprises on the album. Although I suspect there isn't much that would surprise me on a Death Cab album, so maybe that's why. I suppose I mean to say there was nothing jarring and frankly that's good. I prefer to not be jarred.
A few years ago I was working at a desk job; the office mandated Fox News be on constantly, so I protected my brain with earphones. Plans had just been released and I was listening to it nonstop. A coworker asked what I was listening to and then scrunched up their face when I told them. Someone else commented that it was "the death metal all the kids are into." I was confused and angry. I looked around my immediate area to see if she was talking to or about someone else. What was the death metal and who were these kids? Does she think I'm the kid and does she think I enjoy the death metal? And does she think that a band with a name like Death Cab for Cutie would be death metal? "No, no, what? No, it's not. It's ... not. What?" I offered to let her listen to it, but she said it was devil's music and walked away. Another one of my coworkers took me up on it and I believe he converted to DCfC fandom. Never judge a band by its name, right? But I digress.
I do have one complaint about the album. It's more so about its digital release and the fact that on this release they wrote their name as Death Cab For Cutie, and on previous releases, Death Cab for Cutie. About half of their releases are one way and half are the other. It's a subtle difference, but it's enough of one to mess up the listing on my iPod!
My current favorite song on Codes and Keys is Monday Morning. I think it's sweet. I tend to use Death Cab songs as real life advice. So when You Are a Tourist tells me when there's a burning in your heart ... then it's time to go well then, who am I to argue? They're right. It's probably time to go.
If you're already a Death Cab fan, Codes and Keys is ... well, you probably already have it so there's no reason to finish the sentence. It's a good solid album. It does what Death Cab does best.
There were no real surprises on the album. Although I suspect there isn't much that would surprise me on a Death Cab album, so maybe that's why. I suppose I mean to say there was nothing jarring and frankly that's good. I prefer to not be jarred.
A few years ago I was working at a desk job; the office mandated Fox News be on constantly, so I protected my brain with earphones. Plans had just been released and I was listening to it nonstop. A coworker asked what I was listening to and then scrunched up their face when I told them. Someone else commented that it was "the death metal all the kids are into." I was confused and angry. I looked around my immediate area to see if she was talking to or about someone else. What was the death metal and who were these kids? Does she think I'm the kid and does she think I enjoy the death metal? And does she think that a band with a name like Death Cab for Cutie would be death metal? "No, no, what? No, it's not. It's ... not. What?" I offered to let her listen to it, but she said it was devil's music and walked away. Another one of my coworkers took me up on it and I believe he converted to DCfC fandom. Never judge a band by its name, right? But I digress.
I do have one complaint about the album. It's more so about its digital release and the fact that on this release they wrote their name as Death Cab For Cutie, and on previous releases, Death Cab for Cutie. About half of their releases are one way and half are the other. It's a subtle difference, but it's enough of one to mess up the listing on my iPod!
My current favorite song on Codes and Keys is Monday Morning. I think it's sweet. I tend to use Death Cab songs as real life advice. So when You Are a Tourist tells me when there's a burning in your heart ... then it's time to go well then, who am I to argue? They're right. It's probably time to go.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Everybody's Fine: A Review
I remember seeing a few trailers for this film and it was marketed as a comedy. It is not. Everybody's Fine is a drama. It's heartfelt and real; I identified immensely with its themes. It's the story of a family trying to figure itself out as a group of adults.
The film was also very pretty. It may have been the joy of watching it on my new HDTV, but I was definitely struck by how good it looks. The shots were beautiful; they were well composed and meaningful to boot.
I really liked the movie. It wasn't perfect, but it was very nice and very sweet. I went from being half invested at the beginning to bawling my eyes out at the end. I hate it when movies make me feel! Damn you Everybody's Fine for making me feel.
The family in Everybody's Fine reminded me very much of my own. I think that's why I liked it more than the average viewer. I get why we all lie to our families, and then why maybe it wasn't as necessary to lie to them as we thought it was. And I think that's what the movie was about. We want to make our parents' proud, and sometimes we lie a little and only tell them the good stuff so they can be proud. And then they feel like they're good parents because so often all they wanted to be was good parents. We don't want to let them down and take away the only thing they're trying to be. So we lie. But also, whatever we try to be, they'll be proud. What a conundrum. Because in the end, everybody's fine.
The film was also very pretty. It may have been the joy of watching it on my new HDTV, but I was definitely struck by how good it looks. The shots were beautiful; they were well composed and meaningful to boot.
I really liked the movie. It wasn't perfect, but it was very nice and very sweet. I went from being half invested at the beginning to bawling my eyes out at the end. I hate it when movies make me feel! Damn you Everybody's Fine for making me feel.
The family in Everybody's Fine reminded me very much of my own. I think that's why I liked it more than the average viewer. I get why we all lie to our families, and then why maybe it wasn't as necessary to lie to them as we thought it was. And I think that's what the movie was about. We want to make our parents' proud, and sometimes we lie a little and only tell them the good stuff so they can be proud. And then they feel like they're good parents because so often all they wanted to be was good parents. We don't want to let them down and take away the only thing they're trying to be. So we lie. But also, whatever we try to be, they'll be proud. What a conundrum. Because in the end, everybody's fine.
Friday, June 3, 2011
It's Another Weekend
Woah, look at this, it's already the weekend again! How about that? Another benefit of a lovely four day weekend. It's hard to believe one week ago I was counting down the hours to fun in the sun. And that one week ago I slept in the Atlanta airport. Especially considering I slept on a bus last night. It's this new thing I'm trying where I sleep in weird places.
Next week I'll be sleeping on the ground. Or standing up. Or trying not to sleep at all. Next week is Bonnaroo. I'm getting ahead of myself. Live in the moment, man. And in the moment is another weekend.
Next week I'll be sleeping on the ground. Or standing up. Or trying not to sleep at all. Next week is Bonnaroo. I'm getting ahead of myself. Live in the moment, man. And in the moment is another weekend.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Punctuation
Let's talk about semicolons. The other day I said to a friend of mine "I'm having a semicolon problem." She thought I was going to discuss some issues I was having that were kind of related to my colon. Like maybe it was a semi-colon problem, and a semi-duodenum problem. She expected me to talk about poo.
This one time, however, my problem was not poo related. It was punctuation related. The semicolon often confuses people. Kurt Vonnegut had this to say about them:
What I've come across is that people believe in a punctuation rank structure. They understand a period comes at the end of the sentence. They kind of understand when to use commas and when they don't, every fifth word or so satisfies their whim. But then a complex sentence needs to be written- something with a list in it, or worse yet, a list within a list. Oh heavens, what to do? What to do? Clearly, the semicolon becomes their answer.
Here is an example I have used to describe improper semicolon use:
I appreciate a good semicolon. I appreciate all good grammar. I'm not great at it, but I try. I allow others to correct me and hopefully learn from it. I may see a flash of red, but I calm down and put the lesson in my wheelhouse. I also keep a copy of Strunk & White's The Elements of Style by my desk for reference. I guess I'm just really trying to prove that I try, and I like to think I succeed more often than I fail. The lessons I do not appreciate, however, are those from the aforementioned folks who really just do think a semicolon is the Lieutenant Commander of punctuation- not as common as the Ensigns and Lieutenant we call commas and periods, but with less clout than a Captain- the colon.
The more I write, the more comfortable I become with semicolons. I've artfully constructed a few things for my job, some of them containing semicolons. Never have those semicolons been contained in a list.
Punctuation is our friend. It helps us communicate; it lets us present our ideas in a pleasing way. How fun is it to read a paragraph or two and know exactly what the author is talking about? So fun! I'm sure I'll continue to have these semicolon problems- some people do not want to be taught. I am, however, hoping to avoid any semi-duodenum problems.
This one time, however, my problem was not poo related. It was punctuation related. The semicolon often confuses people. Kurt Vonnegut had this to say about them:
"First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college."I don't completely agree with that sentiment, but I think it does serve as a fitting warning. When used properly semicolons are great. However, when used incorrectly, they make the writer look plain idiotic. Also, they aren't really ever necessary. If you stick to short sentences and aren't attempting to write beautiful prose, you can get away with never using them. And in many cases, it's best to do so.
What I've come across is that people believe in a punctuation rank structure. They understand a period comes at the end of the sentence. They kind of understand when to use commas and when they don't, every fifth word or so satisfies their whim. But then a complex sentence needs to be written- something with a list in it, or worse yet, a list within a list. Oh heavens, what to do? What to do? Clearly, the semicolon becomes their answer.
Here is an example I have used to describe improper semicolon use:
The colors of the rainbow are: red; orange; yellow; green; blue; indigo; and violet.Yet I have seen nearly that same sentence presented to me as though it were correct. I have gone back and written it correctly and then been told it needs semicolons. No, it does not. Not in any way.
Why didn't you use semicolons here?The argument I got back was that the use of the colon made the subsequent use of semicolons necessary. This is when the light bulb went on. People actually think the semicolon is just part of a hierarchy. They don't understand that it's just another form of punctuation; it's available for your use when joining two clauses. It is not a more important comma, or a less important colon. I think people use it when they think they've used too many commas but don't want to end the sentence.
Because I'm not joining independent clauses.
I appreciate a good semicolon. I appreciate all good grammar. I'm not great at it, but I try. I allow others to correct me and hopefully learn from it. I may see a flash of red, but I calm down and put the lesson in my wheelhouse. I also keep a copy of Strunk & White's The Elements of Style by my desk for reference. I guess I'm just really trying to prove that I try, and I like to think I succeed more often than I fail. The lessons I do not appreciate, however, are those from the aforementioned folks who really just do think a semicolon is the Lieutenant Commander of punctuation- not as common as the Ensigns and Lieutenant we call commas and periods, but with less clout than a Captain- the colon.
The more I write, the more comfortable I become with semicolons. I've artfully constructed a few things for my job, some of them containing semicolons. Never have those semicolons been contained in a list.
Why did you use a semicolon here?As a side note, I know and understand the guideline about using semicolons in really complicated lists, i.e. use a semicolon between items in a list or series if any of the items contain commas. Yeah, ok, fine. But the colors of the rainbow are not complex ideas that would necessitate semicolons for clarity so all you're doing by replacing commas with semicolons is proving you're not very bright but you are incredibly pretentious / douchey. And I would argue that if the list is so complicated you end up with 10 semicolons in one paragraph, go back to the drawing board and figure out a more concise way to present that information.
Because I AM combining independent clauses.
Punctuation is our friend. It helps us communicate; it lets us present our ideas in a pleasing way. How fun is it to read a paragraph or two and know exactly what the author is talking about? So fun! I'm sure I'll continue to have these semicolon problems- some people do not want to be taught. I am, however, hoping to avoid any semi-duodenum problems.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Travel Day
Tuesday was a travel day. The amount of time it takes to get across the country plus the time change means the whole day is shot. There is no reason to try to plan to do anything else. You will be eating your meals in airports or on airplanes and sitting very uncomfortably for hours and hours.
In general, the travel on Tuesday went as planned. I booked too late to get a non-stop flight. Also, I did something else wrong and was given a universal middle finger- the middle seat. The first flight left on time; I was concerned about making it because of the inexplicably long check in line. I suppose it was explicable: discount airlines hire discount gate agents who don't give a fuck if you miss your flight and don't really listen all that well. But it worked out and I made it to the gate just as they were boarding the plane. I didn't have any trouble at security (this time), because I've done this before!
The one benefit of the layover in Atlanta was the Moe's Southwest Grill in the terminal. At least it seemed like the benefit at the time. Several hours later it was clearly not the benefit. I never ever learn my lesson about burritos. A few days prior I had declared that the best thing about sleeping in the airport was a Moe's breakfast burrito. This proved false by lunch. Also, the worst part about sleeping in an airport is SLEEPING IN AN AIRPORT.
Let me explain: I was to depart on Friday evening after work. I was quite excited about it, and had been doing a countdown. I made the trek to Dulles National Airport (BTW, calling a DC airport is bullshit. It's in Virginia. Western Virginia.) and was plenty early. I checked in to my flight but the times were all floopy. The lovely gate agent person informed me that the flight was currently delayed by half an hour. They anticipated it would be delayed more. She offered me several options, including giving up all together and going home. It was due to weather so there was only so much she could do. She did kindly tell me I shouldn't check my bag because there would be pretty much no chance I'd ever see it again.
It was around 6:30pm when I checked in and the skies were clear and blue. About an hour later, the delay seemed obvious. A huge black cloud engulfed the airport as they delayed the flight even longer. Eventually they announced it would leave at 11:14pm and nobody would make their connections. Dulles is mostly large glass windows; people can see the terrible storm happening five feet from them, yet still, they were angry. Of course, I wasn't happy, but this was clearly one of those "things I can't change" moments.
The storm cleared, the flight took off, and we landed in Atlanta at about 1am. I wandered around for a while looking for just the right spot. My flight from Atlanta to LA was scheduled to depart at 8:45am. There is not a lot going on in an airport at 1am and even the tram shuts down, so when you go from terminal to terminal, you just might get stuck in one of them. I found a row of seats that didn't have arm rests on them that was pushed against a wall with an outlet. I plugged in my phone to charge and used my carry-on as a pillow. I would find out a few hours later someone else apparently pushed this bench against the wall. So I (unknowingly) shared a bench with a weary traveler in a similar situation. I think we're married now.
I couldn't figure out how to turn the lights off in the terminal, but I swear, sometimes they were off and sometimes they weren't. The cleaning crew was kind enough to not wake me even though they probably wanted to vacuum under me. Eventually the hustle and bustle of travelers catching that first flight out woke me up. I sauntered over the Moe's for a breakfast burrito. I considered a regular burrito but I didn't want to confuse my body any more than it already was.
From Atlanta to LA went off without a hitch and I got in a few more zzzzs. I arrived at LAX, cleaned myself up in the bathroom (like all classy people do), had some Reese's pieces for my time-change-adjustment meal, and was whisked away in a sweet sweet ride. The rest of the trip was fantastical.
This brings us back to the poor dinner decision made, yet again, at the Moe's in the Atlanta airport. I love burritos. I can't help it. I scarfed down the Homewrecker in just enough time to board the plane back to DC. I had cleverly made my flight plans to arrive in DCA, aka Reagan National Airport, because it's much more convenient. Except apparently there is a part of DCA that they don't really like to talk about. I've been to DCA many times and I had never been in that part. There were shuttles involved. What? But really, it was fine. It was just weird and late, although time had lost all meaning. I arrived back to my place at around 11:30, which was about the temperature and humidity of the 3rd circle of hell.
Already, I miss LA.
In general, the travel on Tuesday went as planned. I booked too late to get a non-stop flight. Also, I did something else wrong and was given a universal middle finger- the middle seat. The first flight left on time; I was concerned about making it because of the inexplicably long check in line. I suppose it was explicable: discount airlines hire discount gate agents who don't give a fuck if you miss your flight and don't really listen all that well. But it worked out and I made it to the gate just as they were boarding the plane. I didn't have any trouble at security (this time), because I've done this before!
The one benefit of the layover in Atlanta was the Moe's Southwest Grill in the terminal. At least it seemed like the benefit at the time. Several hours later it was clearly not the benefit. I never ever learn my lesson about burritos. A few days prior I had declared that the best thing about sleeping in the airport was a Moe's breakfast burrito. This proved false by lunch. Also, the worst part about sleeping in an airport is SLEEPING IN AN AIRPORT.
Let me explain: I was to depart on Friday evening after work. I was quite excited about it, and had been doing a countdown. I made the trek to Dulles National Airport (BTW, calling a DC airport is bullshit. It's in Virginia. Western Virginia.) and was plenty early. I checked in to my flight but the times were all floopy. The lovely gate agent person informed me that the flight was currently delayed by half an hour. They anticipated it would be delayed more. She offered me several options, including giving up all together and going home. It was due to weather so there was only so much she could do. She did kindly tell me I shouldn't check my bag because there would be pretty much no chance I'd ever see it again.
It was around 6:30pm when I checked in and the skies were clear and blue. About an hour later, the delay seemed obvious. A huge black cloud engulfed the airport as they delayed the flight even longer. Eventually they announced it would leave at 11:14pm and nobody would make their connections. Dulles is mostly large glass windows; people can see the terrible storm happening five feet from them, yet still, they were angry. Of course, I wasn't happy, but this was clearly one of those "things I can't change" moments.
The storm cleared, the flight took off, and we landed in Atlanta at about 1am. I wandered around for a while looking for just the right spot. My flight from Atlanta to LA was scheduled to depart at 8:45am. There is not a lot going on in an airport at 1am and even the tram shuts down, so when you go from terminal to terminal, you just might get stuck in one of them. I found a row of seats that didn't have arm rests on them that was pushed against a wall with an outlet. I plugged in my phone to charge and used my carry-on as a pillow. I would find out a few hours later someone else apparently pushed this bench against the wall. So I (unknowingly) shared a bench with a weary traveler in a similar situation. I think we're married now.
I couldn't figure out how to turn the lights off in the terminal, but I swear, sometimes they were off and sometimes they weren't. The cleaning crew was kind enough to not wake me even though they probably wanted to vacuum under me. Eventually the hustle and bustle of travelers catching that first flight out woke me up. I sauntered over the Moe's for a breakfast burrito. I considered a regular burrito but I didn't want to confuse my body any more than it already was.
From Atlanta to LA went off without a hitch and I got in a few more zzzzs. I arrived at LAX, cleaned myself up in the bathroom (like all classy people do), had some Reese's pieces for my time-change-adjustment meal, and was whisked away in a sweet sweet ride. The rest of the trip was fantastical.
This brings us back to the poor dinner decision made, yet again, at the Moe's in the Atlanta airport. I love burritos. I can't help it. I scarfed down the Homewrecker in just enough time to board the plane back to DC. I had cleverly made my flight plans to arrive in DCA, aka Reagan National Airport, because it's much more convenient. Except apparently there is a part of DCA that they don't really like to talk about. I've been to DCA many times and I had never been in that part. There were shuttles involved. What? But really, it was fine. It was just weird and late, although time had lost all meaning. I arrived back to my place at around 11:30, which was about the temperature and humidity of the 3rd circle of hell.
Already, I miss LA.
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