9/24

I don’t know if you’ve ever been a fan of shows on the WB. Here’s the issue: rarely do the shows have anything resembling a complex storyline or a plot devoid of holes, inconsistencies, etc. I can say this because I have watched at least 50 episodes of Dawson’s Creek, every single episode of Charmed, 60+ of Smallville, and 3 episodes of Gilmour Girls. That is a fair sampling.

You don’t watch the shows on the WB for the same reason as you do average TV, or for the reason you might go to movies: the WB, you watch for the beautiful people. Oh, and the people are beautiful…

I was going to paste some pictures in here, but I still haven’t figured that out, so in the meantime:
http://www.thewb.com/charmed
http://www.thewb.com/smallville

… and now they put a new chick on Smallville who plays a young Lois Lane, and lordylordy, let me tell you. Fun stuff.

Anyway, the point is, I don’t think that the WB is really in the business of producing or airing quality television, so critics should probably get over it. The WB is eye candy, and if you’re just looking for a good time, for about 42, 44 minutes, I say indulge yourself.

9/22

I took a walk to the New Moon in order to “get out of the house” and study. One of the issues I’ve dealt with in the last few places I’ve lived is having to just about ALWAYS drive to get somewhere. This, in retrospect, was particularly true in Bozeman.

My biggest pet peeve in coffeehouses is people who can’t (or won’t) say “espresso.” For the last god damned time, it’s not EXPRESSO, it’s ESPRESSO: Eee. Ess. Pee. Rrrr. Eee. Ess. Fuckin-ess-O. Why don’t you get back in your Neon and drive off a nearby cliff?

There are all sorts of people having “important” or “significant” conversations in this place. Why is that? What elevated caffeine and tiny tables with stiff-backed chairs to such a status?

There used to be too many high school kids in here. It seemed like ALL THE TIME. Maybe that’s just the way I’ve chosen to remember it. Of course, I look around now and see a bunch of college kids, whom I’ve come to the determination are just high school kids without curfews who can get drugs and books a lot easier. But for now, they’re just feeling important, deep, or substantial because they paid two dollars for a CUP OF COFFEE.

That damned cell phone ring. That’s Raul’s ring and it’s everyone’s. Note to R: dump the Nokia, you could get something better; more unique.

She says to Nick on the phone, sounding important, ‘WE-eee are at the NewMoonCafe?, having some dessert and drinking COFF-ee.’

My thumb hurts, I’m pretty sure I sprained it on the Golden Tee machine. It’s making my writing look worse than usual since I can barely hold the pen.

One day, someone will probably look at some of my “original manuscripts,” scribbled in important coffeehouses at nine on a Wednesday, and just looking at them, thinking of all I’ve done, someone will feel important, and following the afternoon at the museum, Nick’s grandson will ask her granddaughter if she’d like to go to the coffeehouse for some Important Pie and a cup of 200-dollar coffee.

9/21

I had poetry class tonight and I realized that it will not be the end of the world.

I was admittedly apprehensive, because god knows I’ve never really written any poetry, and there are clearly a lot of people in that class (more so than in the fiction writing from last term) that fancy themselves poets, if they are not poets proper, where I didn’t get the impression that lots of people in Rindo’s thought they could write fiction.

In this way, I’m exactly the opposite of most of my mates in these two classes.

But here’s the other thing: Gemin has been right all these years, and Pam is a helluva teacher. I can see after just one full class period that she breaks everything down in a way that makes it all seem manageable, and I envy that ability. I don’t think I have it at this point.

The other thing that will not cause the world to end? The semester’s courseload. I’m not going to be overly swamped by the work I have to do in the combination of two classes, and I feel better and better each day about the schedule that I’ve made up for myself.

Y’know, there was even some good stuff @ work today: I didn’t have to sit at the front desk, so I got some work done, learned some new crap, had a staff meeting where I found out some of our understaffing problems are going to solved in the next couple weeks, and that’s definitely good.

Holy moses.

I think this is the first time I’ve felt like I had a good day this late in the semester… ever.

Huh.

Take a look in the ‘Galleries’ if you have a chance and see what I’ve done with the digital camera lately.

9/20

It never seems to fail that a bunch of the things that I have been putting off around the house get accomplished when I leave the friendly confines for a spell. Here I am at Starbucks (I’d go to the New Moon, right by my house, if not for the parking issues) and getting all my reading and blogging done. Not a bad morning.

The other thing that works perfectly is the Mondays off. Weekends, I’ve found, are tricky because so many people have off on weekends, and so much non-work-week stuff happens on weekends, it’s hard for me to concentrate on regular stuff Saturdays or Sundays. Hence the non-working, non-class-having Monday, and hells bells, it’s still brilliant.

I had initially planned to get you up to speed on a number of random musings that I’ve carried around in my pants the last few weeks the other day, but that didn’t work out. I’ll share them with you now:

1. I still need to get rid of more t-shirts. This is less of a volume problem, and more of a size issue. Facts are, that regardless of what my body looks like, I’ve finally realized that you don’t hide anything inside XL shirts, and that instead you just look like a jackass with a shirt hanging over your ass. I’ve you’re an “XL,” let me know, I’d be glad to empty out some drawers.

2. The situation where I need to get rid of the XL t-shirts has, ironically, spawned a new problem: I need to get some more “L” t-shirts.

3. If you still Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, there’s a tub of the fat free variety in my refrigerator that I think could convince you.

4. I was shopping for a vintage Mini Cooper during the summer, and as fate would have it, I’m now driving a 1995 Buick LeSabre?. The only way I could’ve gone further in the opposite direction would be to get a Ford Expedition. The bit that surprises me even more is that I’m enjoying driving the Buick. It’s comfy, it’s got cruise, Joe helped me put the CD deck in there, and once I get a handle on parking, I will be a bona fide Buick Driver.

5. You should check out the following jazz CD (unless you’re Ben Leubner, who poo-poos all contemporary jazz): Jamie Cullum’s “Twentysomething.”

6. Don’t laugh, because it’s getting to be where it comes up time to time, and what I’m talking about here is getting closer to 30. I have a variety of stories I could tell; I think for me the reminders come up more often being around all these college kids all the time, but you begin to fight this losing battle where you no longer have all the tools and resources to being “hip,” or “with it,” and if someone asks you what the kids are into, you honestly don’t know. But as I considered the stark reality of that situation, the following things occurred to me: I don’t really give a damn what the kids are into, and it’s no big deal not being “hip” in my case, because I never was to begin with. Now, instead of being a quirky weirdo, I’m becoming an old quirky weirdo.

7. Stand-up comics have done bits about how “you go to the store and always get that cart with the broken wheel that’s always pulling to the right,” but for me, at Wal-Mart?, it is actually true. I’ve written it down. This most recent occasion marks five in row.

8. The presidential election is the American electorate what Christmas is to Catholics: even if you only vote once every four years, you fancy yourself a participant in the democratic process.

9. The last time I was in LaCrosse?, Mom and Dad and I went shopping a little on Saturday morning, and Mom observed that my wallet smells like a moldy old shoe. I had never really taken more than passing notice, but now the smell is driving me goddamn nuts.

That’s all I’ve got for you right now, enjoy the rest of your Monday, and hope for a Philadelphia victory on Monday Night. God knows I will.

9/18

Damn, the first two thirds of this month blew by really fast. Things have been busy at work, and with school starting, and everything else, so I’ve had to take the few moments that have been here or there to jot some stuff down. I’ll share them with you if you’d like…

Before I get to that, though, I want thank everyone who sent their condolences, prayers, etc, to me and my family as we cope with the passing of my Grandma Bock. One of the things that has really impressed me so far is how our entire extended family continues to lean on itself for support and strength, and of course a part of that comes from friends. So again, thank you all very much.

Some people asked me when they found out about Grandma, “Was it unexpected?” and, OK, I’ll grant you that I don’t think anybody who knew her had a lot of confidence in Grandma’s biological fortitude, particularly since her heart surgery about a year ago, but seriously: you can know things are going to happen, but that doesn’t mean you start marking off the days on the calendar or just go out for coffee after you get the news.

Maybe it’s that I was able to tell people about what had happened with a fairly even voice and in complete sentences. But here’s another thing: a person dying is not what makes you cry. A corpse doesn’t make you cry. An empty house, in and of itself, should not make you cry. It’s thinking of the times. It’s the birthdays and the Thanksgivings and the Easters. It’s the mornings watching Bob Barker and the evenings with Alex Trebec. That’s what makes you cry — the realization that the only time you’ll have one of those times again is in memory, and somewhere, it’s also realizing that memory fades a little every day.

Well I hadn’t really planned on getting into that here this morning. Maybe I’ll have more on the drudgery tomorrow.

9/1

My Grandma Bock passed away yesterday, 8/31.

For those in the know, you may remember that last fall she had a very difficult heart surgery, followed by a long stay in the hospital, some time in rehab, and only a few months ago she started living by herself again (but still relied on the helpful and loving assistance of family and friends for a lot of things).

I talked to Grandma on the phone about six days ago, and she didn’t sound that great, but she hadn’t been sounding very good for a while, I suppose. It was only about six or seven months between when Grandpa passed away and Grandma had her heart surgery. When I called last week, her machine picked up before Grandma finally grabbed the phone. She said she was in the laundry room, and had been calling for Grandpa to get the phone. She told me she was doing stuff like that a lot lately.

The funeral is tomorrow, then I’m riding back up north with Mom and Dad for the rest of the weekend. Talk to you again after.