tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51839244468445374942024-03-10T10:49:05.028-07:00M.O.D. (Modes of Distraction)Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-33326831881936437892012-11-30T16:30:00.001-08:002012-11-30T16:30:19.920-08:00A Gimp Year in ReviewA lot of really good things happened in 2012--Meryl won her third Oscar, I got to see Kelly twice in concert, Barack won the re-election, Kevin visited San Francisco for the first time since I moved here, my novel-in-progress has been consistently moving forward, I made new friends, I got to reunite with Serban and meet his lovely girlfriend, Manuela...<br />
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But, to no surprise, 2012 will always be the Year of the Achilles (unless the Mayans steal my thunder and the world really does end in 13 days). Exactly a year ago today, I performed a tumbling pass I shouldn't have, and when I came down on the "trampoline," I heard a pop that led me to believe I broke the trampoline itself.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIXbm43cLJAz-C4zuybBDwur8ptVbnAdVTa3KxKjRNMINQuEHulBrz5kqi0A8ukKd6avyfo2ZlctQwBHfYNg0bG6rBbMaxC0quCPYvDbomBgEX2HsUcc9v59DLGY4WJ-SUL3KXFme8xA/s1600/untitled2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtIXbm43cLJAz-C4zuybBDwur8ptVbnAdVTa3KxKjRNMINQuEHulBrz5kqi0A8ukKd6avyfo2ZlctQwBHfYNg0bG6rBbMaxC0quCPYvDbomBgEX2HsUcc9v59DLGY4WJ-SUL3KXFme8xA/s320/untitled2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11/30/11: More or less what I did, except I landed where the arrow shows.</td></tr>
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Not so.<br />
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It's only a matter of time before my memory of all the events that followed dull into a general "it took a long fucking time" mentality, and since I have an obsessive personality, this is a timeline I want recorded. It was first suggested I do so to map my progress, but I found myself recording things that weren't directly related to the recovery but still affected by it, like the graduation ceremony from my graduate program on December 16, 2011, that I couldn't attend, the way skin fell off my foot even a week after my cast was removed. But even my long-winded posts can't support such a detailed picture of what this year has been like, so I'll stick with the basics. <br />
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In order to preserve this year in all its gimpy glory, I've come up with a photo timeline. In a year where progress has felt so incredibly slow, it provides some kind of comfort to see that I've actually come pretty far.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9018c9s9O23jOSr5YhfRj4_XILE96VFq6cMn43G7MaE8s2yUIFi3AliwhLJmG1M9bupblosR1iiELG4Tr7ENj45M1N-FLk2sBRmYS0uMiyodkYdgkU7Ifz-irocKsBf2OuEtsX0COYMo/s1600/IMG_0575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9018c9s9O23jOSr5YhfRj4_XILE96VFq6cMn43G7MaE8s2yUIFi3AliwhLJmG1M9bupblosR1iiELG4Tr7ENj45M1N-FLk2sBRmYS0uMiyodkYdgkU7Ifz-irocKsBf2OuEtsX0COYMo/s320/IMG_0575.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12/2/11: Put in super-cool shorts in case I needed to be put in a cast. Instead, I was told I needed surgery.</td></tr>
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12/6/11: Surgery day. L: torn tendon, R: repaired tendon. (<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/backoftheline/Screenshot2012-11-30at84341AM.png" target="_blank">Pictures</a> here--warning, they are graphic.)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtS3m4TcWw2Ekn1A01Z94zfJRUyYnUEPCiuMZrlxLoZSOF_ewPKs1N3ndQJLipUw30ejpTtkWbeG6eBfOUUPLdpS7Yx_NvFhVuw26AP1r4uimEt9mzHl5REBJlSuSTondD5tWy5Du_SA/s1600/IMG_0587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtS3m4TcWw2Ekn1A01Z94zfJRUyYnUEPCiuMZrlxLoZSOF_ewPKs1N3ndQJLipUw30ejpTtkWbeG6eBfOUUPLdpS7Yx_NvFhVuw26AP1r4uimEt9mzHl5REBJlSuSTondD5tWy5Du_SA/s320/IMG_0587.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12/13/11: My very first cast!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnKHRVoxnBb4J6eXSiDuHPZpRZbEox-NIKpA_Jh8PsQgSkFg2NNHC9Kau9QiChXcBSdSncEQ8Ydi3fsZZFkUuxElFBFjlYbs9Wxk2OeEPutL8Rg81vOwgIzbQvqF5LsAfFLy_mlKk1OQ/s1600/IMG_0595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnKHRVoxnBb4J6eXSiDuHPZpRZbEox-NIKpA_Jh8PsQgSkFg2NNHC9Kau9QiChXcBSdSncEQ8Ydi3fsZZFkUuxElFBFjlYbs9Wxk2OeEPutL8Rg81vOwgIzbQvqF5LsAfFLy_mlKk1OQ/s320/IMG_0595.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12/22/11: Cast sawed off, all 23 staples removed, cleared to go to New York for Christmas. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12/27/11: I wouldn't have traveled to New York--in a wheelchair--for anyone else. At least it got us to the top of the Empire State Building in a record 10 minutes!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvWL5xheh8Ov4EaG5UN0DUMJfp7vn0yNhcIaLJIBgJM128syW48Mzlqsl-k7554NvVQQx2hPJ8g8WL1pMf36QdLtNIdVKo1jT_5RNdyscWXDyM_QHaKgD93lURLjQ1hc2JP6W5g2yrEA/s1600/IMG_0708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvWL5xheh8Ov4EaG5UN0DUMJfp7vn0yNhcIaLJIBgJM128syW48Mzlqsl-k7554NvVQQx2hPJ8g8WL1pMf36QdLtNIdVKo1jT_5RNdyscWXDyM_QHaKgD93lURLjQ1hc2JP6W5g2yrEA/s320/IMG_0708.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_V7k97B2aDe2wGyG6Bb412656t3jCO6rio-20u2IA636zOpu3R34Erxg9vqZK__CFMo88ie81PO0MNam740Bvev2b_9mv8YGTtii0dhbT8Sn7uuUHNDrxIX63tleTpG7dIsQvehUlcY/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_V7k97B2aDe2wGyG6Bb412656t3jCO6rio-20u2IA636zOpu3R34Erxg9vqZK__CFMo88ie81PO0MNam740Bvev2b_9mv8YGTtii0dhbT8Sn7uuUHNDrxIX63tleTpG7dIsQvehUlcY/s320/IMG_0709.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1/11/12: Cast removed by new SF doctors. Foot insanely swollen. Foot flexed and put in walking boot. Lots o' pain. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIrIlF4nRA1YbE4Zx8y03zM9pnRzHD1AcKpcBv7bw33YsLOrNCDtPp1id34-zn0WVfAx59ObBhSaHO8S_UbjaHqzqFJ3XugqHRiT5wC9nrQmAo2tz3WevFChFA94UYyppnInOy8OM3N0/s1600/IMG_0795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIrIlF4nRA1YbE4Zx8y03zM9pnRzHD1AcKpcBv7bw33YsLOrNCDtPp1id34-zn0WVfAx59ObBhSaHO8S_UbjaHqzqFJ3XugqHRiT5wC9nrQmAo2tz3WevFChFA94UYyppnInOy8OM3N0/s320/IMG_0795.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2/2/12: My second-favorite handicap perk, after skipping airport security lines. The day was made all that more fun by having Nikki accompany me to the wretched SF DMV.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwHcFFmBXMQcBaoACSub59UkLyn2rsKqZhTD5C1JA2dMmj_P37X37w6S6uJ3vRdNEE46ioU_2cRdldGRy2ADKwFTmTMRCB95cYGM1hpS1-EeUrdWbujNeSGrWw0KHCYLATB1fSMTgf1Y/s1600/IMG_1484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwHcFFmBXMQcBaoACSub59UkLyn2rsKqZhTD5C1JA2dMmj_P37X37w6S6uJ3vRdNEE46ioU_2cRdldGRy2ADKwFTmTMRCB95cYGM1hpS1-EeUrdWbujNeSGrWw0KHCYLATB1fSMTgf1Y/s320/IMG_1484.JPG" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2/20/12: What my leg looked like when they told me to start putting weight on my foot while in the walking boot. It took me a week longer to even start. Signs of fucked-up ankle becoming quite evident. </td></tr>
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2/23/12: First physical therapy appointment. Going twice a week. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/s720x720/534833_10101056529707823_914772915_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/s720x720/534833_10101056529707823_914772915_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3/20/12: No more walking boot, back to using one crutch like a cane. Doesn't stop me from drunk brunch and meeting famous drag queens, but does stop random passersby from inquiring as to how I hurt myself (i.e., they think I'm perma-disabled).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/s720x720/541041_10100950331440003_1588775881_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/s720x720/541041_10100950331440003_1588775881_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3/25/12: Boot clearly taken off too soon. After waiting on foot for Latrice Royale for hours, I came home to see this. Back in the boot I go. </td></tr>
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4/12/12: Physical therapist hypothesizes that I fractured my ankle at the time of injury, given persistent problems with my distal tibia joint. Also: I take my first shower without a shower chair or cast in four months and 12 days. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/540401_10101133475203433_872105178_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/540401_10101133475203433_872105178_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5/20/12: Bay to Breakers 2012, and my very last day on crutches. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJpU1PgglQx9k1ks78DsL9W5gVqbr1FjEHV0e6pk4RqDIMvH_gsmhSlLWm4vDkq96vmRMCrAfkAv6f37Zj6EJzO_RO0j6BG3qUoiwOmbbJ_OH4rkdjS9hI2qVe58kBq3agePKbOCa6fM/s1600/DSCN0168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJpU1PgglQx9k1ks78DsL9W5gVqbr1FjEHV0e6pk4RqDIMvH_gsmhSlLWm4vDkq96vmRMCrAfkAv6f37Zj6EJzO_RO0j6BG3qUoiwOmbbJ_OH4rkdjS9hI2qVe58kBq3agePKbOCa6fM/s320/DSCN0168.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6/25/12: Post-Pride swelling puts me in a special ankle brace. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpghQUgPDEROGk5g3P28DXzSfJ-rqz5GaPuMdPYE7cmXSR6c-A3CK_z1fKc6EU-wAoBP-V66B9JYEOZGUu2g-n2wiHFILOhXYwj4AbK6ZfQNBDQrAxMuT2vkHd0xHe41ePV9s0Y9RVs0/s1600/DSCN0162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpghQUgPDEROGk5g3P28DXzSfJ-rqz5GaPuMdPYE7cmXSR6c-A3CK_z1fKc6EU-wAoBP-V66B9JYEOZGUu2g-n2wiHFILOhXYwj4AbK6ZfQNBDQrAxMuT2vkHd0xHe41ePV9s0Y9RVs0/s320/DSCN0162.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">7/10/12: I learned how to tape my foot in order to pull my ankle joint into the right place for easier mobility. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwFs6VCDAclnpRkeQZG_1esNA3wNIscv1SJeZQUV-tYd2BOQlQSuU_szrrPjpAZDbulD1p22vqeuARsCg16t7wvu4rJLEjiuxjyiivchPRZAbPnzEsMN3yt_PUcZtt6ylWWJ3Z_UciJo/s1600/IMG_1659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwFs6VCDAclnpRkeQZG_1esNA3wNIscv1SJeZQUV-tYd2BOQlQSuU_szrrPjpAZDbulD1p22vqeuARsCg16t7wvu4rJLEjiuxjyiivchPRZAbPnzEsMN3yt_PUcZtt6ylWWJ3Z_UciJo/s320/IMG_1659.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">7/31/12: Return of the Boot. An MRI reveals bone bruising in my ankle and a small, lateral tear in my tendon. Back in the boot for three weeks. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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8/15/12: Walking. On my own. No wheelchair, crutches, boot, brace, tape, heel lifts...freedom. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKSUq484CjctB_ntsrr3IMkzAz6R5dpa5dO0Va8hkO5xck1Yq2eJPh3PD-8BepIL7uykkOzh7W1VbpEyMhFM6mbBipJRDeT4u1ld-Vgh6nLkWJcBdVXAJeNAgm-EDndG1VU7S4ERDEhg/s1600/DSCN0286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKSUq484CjctB_ntsrr3IMkzAz6R5dpa5dO0Va8hkO5xck1Yq2eJPh3PD-8BepIL7uykkOzh7W1VbpEyMhFM6mbBipJRDeT4u1ld-Vgh6nLkWJcBdVXAJeNAgm-EDndG1VU7S4ERDEhg/s320/DSCN0286.JPG" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10/1/12: New physical therapist, new strengthening exercises--muscle getting stronger. </td></tr>
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11/22/12: First time driving since the accident. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbb2guea5yJ69BsDSwHyo8cSndW_CAFuE9v5lWy5qSod5hvHjWlfvz4ZR2jKYZxIfOp1YLpT5Hrgz7O3P_zrLH47sTwEkhTzeS8IxZy-vjeB_7cBRhQOiA5VFRZfZC9CrH2XcrZ8_E88/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-11-30+at+4.14.45+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbb2guea5yJ69BsDSwHyo8cSndW_CAFuE9v5lWy5qSod5hvHjWlfvz4ZR2jKYZxIfOp1YLpT5Hrgz7O3P_zrLH47sTwEkhTzeS8IxZy-vjeB_7cBRhQOiA5VFRZfZC9CrH2XcrZ8_E88/s320/Screen+Shot+2012-11-30+at+4.14.45+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11/30/12: One-year anniversary! From the back things look good, but not quite there on the front. Not sure what anatomical failure is the source of this, but I'll get there. </td></tr>
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When I decided to go through with the surgery, I was told it would be a year before I was back to 100%. Unforeseen ankle problems and real life has prolonged things, but for the most part my daily life is back to normal--minus the eight exercises I have to do daily or every other day. </div>
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There have been a lot of lessons learned about this--some of which I touch on in an <a href="http://snapm.ag/issues/05-wrap-up/96-97" target="_blank">article</a> I just wrote for <i>Snap </i>magazine, a beautiful photography magazine, and it's an article I'm really proud of--but the clearest one has been the depth and patience and encouragement of my personal support system. The doctors and physical therapists have been, mercifully, great, but my family, friends, and boyfriend were oh-so wonderful throughout this entire process, helping with my physical and mental recovery from this rather unexpected event. </div>
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But now I'm getting better, and I suppose it's time to stop being so self-indulgent and reflective. </div>
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Onward. </div>
Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-6672682736015118342012-08-08T21:09:00.000-07:002012-08-09T15:21:01.940-07:00Maroneygate<style>
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<b>Mode of distraction:</b> Olympics obsession.</div>
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<b>Distracting me from:</b> Everything for the last week.</div>
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I don't have time to justify my blog absence given how long this post turned out to be, but suffice it to say I’ve had lots to distract me
from this, my favorite mode of distraction. Right
now, I have a bone to pick with the country at large (actually, I have several,
and the femur of those bones is the gay marriage debate, most recently
highlighted by the fucks behind Chic-fil-A, but that’s not the bone I’m
highlighting in this book-length post, so bear with me, because I need to get
it off my chest anyway). </div>
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The relevant portion of the 2012 London Olympics for me—gymnastics—has
come and gone with the appropriate share of tears, triumphs, surprises,
heartache, and really fabulous athleticism. Some of the best gymnastics I’ve
ever seen has been on display in the last week, between Kohei Uchimura
occasionally finding his stride from last year’s Worlds and demonstrating that
he really does belong on the list of all-time greats, to the USA women putting
up the single best team performance in Olympic competition history, to the
Russians proving that in spite of the trick-favoring Code of Points floor exercise
can still have captivating choreography, there was a lot to celebrate.</div>
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But perhaps the most readily available example of how
quickly you can go from hero to villain lies with USA gymnast McKayla Maroney.
In the span of a week, she had an entire country (and here begins the
hyperbolic nature of this post, and it won’t stop) celebrating her vault and
spreading around pictures of the judges whose mouths were <a href="http://i.imgur.com/myiFy.gif" target="_blank">literally agape</a>
at the sheer magnitude of her vault, one that has not ever been matched by a
woman, ever. And in that same week, she became the face of poor sportsmanship,
gymnastics’ mean girl, a living example of karmic retribution, a piece of shit
that barely deserved the silver she got (sounds hyperbolic, but then you haven't seen Twitter...).</div>
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So what happened?</div>
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It’s what always happens with gymnastics. It’s the number-one,
most-popular sport every four years, and in the other three it’s about #17. No
one (hyperbole!) knew who she was before she showed everyone what perfect
looked like in 2012 in the team finals. But everyone got on board pretty
quickly and caught up with her story: she was here to compete vault, and she
was far and away the best in the world. That’s really all you knew, and all you
needed to know—and wasn't enough to overcome a smirk at the wrong time. </div>
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But that doesn’t really cover it. She’s been performing the
Amanar (lawl that the general public now knows what that is because of her)
vault better than anyone else in the world since 2010, as a junior, when she
was 14 years old (a mere year after she learned the vault in the first place).
She has been predicted to win the Olympics on vault since then, and has earned
every piece of that hype. In all her competitions on vault, she
hasn’t been outscored nor outperformed (and in gymnastics, sometimes those are
different). In her first major international meet, the 2011 World
Championships, she astounded the gymnastics world at large with her vault (no
hyperbole), won the event final handedly (in fact, could have fallen there and
still won), and was poised to only get better the next year. </div>
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Cue untimely injuries. A bad back plagued her in the early
part of the year, then after the first day of Nationals—the qualifying event to
the Olympic Trials—she had a bizarre fall on floor in which she hit the back of
her head so hard she broke her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nose </i>(wut)
and suffered a concussion, unable to continue the competition. After being
examined and told she couldn’t compete, she returned to the arena to cheer on
the rest of the athletes and await her fate to see if she could be petitioned
to the Olympic Trials. She was. She was cleared to train exactly one week
before the biggest competition of her life, she hit when it counted, and made
the five-person squad.</div>
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Cut to London, where she dismounts the beam in training and
“splits” a bone in her toe. She doesn’t train for most of the week leading up
to the actual Olympics, has to withdraw from performing her <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0bjxFsq0Xk" target="_blank">beautiful floor routine</a>, and is now here solely because she is the best vaulter in the
world. Her Olympic experience is reduced to five vaults. </div>
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One of them was the best vault of her
life, the other was her worst—the only time she had fallen in a vault
competition in two years. Right before she fell, NBC spent actual minutes dissecting the perfection and
superiority of her vault—even compared to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">men’s Olympic all around champion</i>, the aforementioned future legend
Uchimura. Not only was she the most sure-thing gold medal in gymnastics, men or
women, I can’t think of another instance in which a single athlete was so
otherworldly superior on one event to anyone else (and if this blog posts
demonstrates anything, it’s my embarrassingly deep and knowledgeable love for
the sport)—not Nadia, not Nastia, not anyone (no hyperbole). </div>
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But she fell at the wrong time, in front of the world and
everyone competing with her who were just hoping for to medal beneath Maroney's (and,
likely, excited just to watch her vault at all, because gymnasts at that level
appreciate great gymnastics). She got second place, with a fall, by 0.112. As she walked off
the podium after her fall, her coach said (according to reports), “There goes
your gold medal.”</div>
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How much time would it take you to come to terms with that? A
millisecond? You better hope so, because that’s the time American (and
worldwide) viewing audiences gave 16-year-old McKayla Maroney to gather herself
and behave in one of the only two acceptable ways for female gymnasts: bubbly
and happy (e.g., Gabby Douglas) or fragile and heartbroken (e.g., Jordyn
Wieber). McKayla's more stone-faced nature (whether she does great or poorly, and even the term "stone-faced" is a bit of an hyperbole) doesn't play as well to the background of the Olympics trombones and trumpets. </div>
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But there she is, in a whirlwind of humiliation and
disappointment and sadness (and probably physical pain), and she gets lost.
Sandra Izbasa, the Romanian victor and ever the class act, wins and holds her
mouth in shock and empathy as she hugs Maroney, who minutes previous could be
seen almost crying. After the hug, her look goes vacant, and she gives bronze-medalist
Maria Paseka of Russia the literal cold shoulder. </div>
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And then NBC is done. They’ve found their new angle on
McKayla Maroney. No more Phillip Phillips “Home” music montage for her! She
just shat on her silver medal and every vaulter in that final, and probably
every Olympic athlete (hyperbole!). </div>
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Meanwhile, accounts of people who were actually in the arena
(and McKayla herself), say she went on to give proper hugs and congratulations
to the medalists, posed for pictures with her silver with a smile. She also
then went on to the media room and answered exhaustive questions about her
performance, staying for the maximum time (it is common that others in extreme
disappointment answer minimum questions, if any, and leave to grieve). She says
only that she is disappointed in her performance, not her medal. She doesn’t
blame the toe or the equipment or the judges—she blames poor timing on a vault
she always trains and competes well. Oh, and in case you’re interested, she
cried. </div>
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But no one gets to see that. They see another millisecond:
the moment on the medal stand in which she undoubtedly smirks again—in
disbelief, anger, embarrassment, whatever. And that is what we call media
gasoline (also enough fuel for <a href="http://mckaylaisnotimpressed.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">this tumblr</a>, which, in spite of myself,
is fucking hysterical—Maroney herself retweeted it).<br />
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So, now what? Now, in addition to feeling the (unnecessary
and unwarranted, and entirely speculated by me) shame of “letting down” USA <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and </i>USAG by doing something she has
never done before, she is feeling the wrath of a country brought together by
the media’s need for a villain. She has sent three tweets and a Facebook
message desperately explaining that Izbasa and Paseka are friends of hers,
that she is proud of their performances, and that she hugged them; and that she was
so lost in her disappointment she didn’t know what to do. She ends with “Please
forgive me!”</div>
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What does she need to be forgiven for, exactly? Reacting?
Not crying? Not smiling? Not landing the vault? Not winning gold? Not loving
her silver right away (“Silver is actually pretty sick!” she’d go on to tweet
later that night)?Not behaving at her absolute best self after the most disappointing moment of her gymnastics career? </div>
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In some ways, it’s not the general population’s fault.
They’re fed only a fraction of the story, and then—in typical groupthink
fashion—run with it as they’re told, single-minded, judgmental, and
disinterested in anything straying from the narrative of McKayla “Regina
George” Maroney. Not even the Internet can break up that kind of momentum. </div>
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And I find all that almost as heartbreaking as her sitting
down the vault in the first place (but not quite, because I generally care
little for the collective thoughts of people, and she deserves to be Olympic
champion for no other reason than she is the best vaulter in the world), because it's surely the last thing she needs. </div>
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McKayla leaves London with one Olympic gold medal, one
Olympic silver medal, all the reason to be proud of herself in the world, and a
chip on her shoulder in the shape of North America. I hope for her sake she can
retain her patented toughness, realize that this overreaction is bigger than
her (and has increasingly less to do with her actual reaction), grow from the
situation appropriately (because, let’s be honest, there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are </i>athletes out there who have handled the same adversity better,
and that level of sportsmanship is a beautiful thing to watch, and those athletes should be commended—but
they’re not the ones getting the attention, after all), and—selfishly—I hope
she continues with gymnastics. She could add a half twist to the Amanar and
have a vault all her own. She could show the world (or the 137 people who would
watch the 2013 World Championships, anyway) what she’s capable of on
vault and floor (and, hey, maybe the all around—if she does that new vault and
hits her floor, all she’d have to do is clean up the other events a bit and
she’d be a real threat) once again. Or just show me, because I think she’s
pretty magical to watch, and at 16, she could have a lot of great moments ahead
of her. </div>
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Besides, if she makes it to the Olympics in 2016 and does
well, she can be NBC’s hero again. They live for that shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Oh, and she has this and the rest of you don’t:</div>
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<br /></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-62356480180595764982012-01-09T18:03:00.000-08:002012-01-09T18:03:24.786-08:00Carly, Crutches, Cabs & Crowds: Christmas in New York<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Exploring my first Fleetwood Mac album, <i>Rumours</i> (yeah yeah, I'm suuuuper late).</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Lower leg discomfort. </b><br />
<br />
New York, New York. A city that always manages to precede its reputation. Since my sister was cast in Peter Pan (!) as Tootles/Jane/Wendy understudy (!!), there was talk that we would visit her in New York for Christmas. Mission accomplished, albeit with a few twists and turns, mostly involving my recently repaired Achilles tendon (a big ol' post on this to come). Needless to say, it was a great time--cold as hell (...hmm) and rough on my leg, but entirely worth it to see Carly on stage as Wendy (!!!).<br />
<br />
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Since everyone prefers looking at pictures to actual reading, allow me to do a bit of both. Announcing my top five New York memories, via pictures:<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. Carly goes on for the lead role of Wendy</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/407063_10100750877821653_3204915_58953874_166088735_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/407063_10100750877821653_3204915_58953874_166088735_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>When we got the text that Carly would go on as Wendy the night before the show we were scheduled to see, it was as if we had to repay the universe for the opportunity to see her in a lead in New York City's Madison Square Garden by moving heaven and earth and wheelchair to get there. The entirety of the Met was leaving with us, it was pouring rain, $30 umbrellas flipped inside out, and a solid dozen-plus cabs pulled up to the curb only to screech away at the sight of my wet wheelchair. Cunts (I mean, there is no other word). <b>But</b>, when we sat down in our newly acquired (thank you, Duncan!) seats not a minute before the lights when down and the curtains went up, seeing Carly knock her role out of the park made it all worth it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. A New York City Lunch</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/backoftheline/6869bbe0-5a3f-4bce-8993-e2140c46c72fwallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/backoftheline/6869bbe0-5a3f-4bce-8993-e2140c46c72fwallpaper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Our New York meals were starting to look like an embarrassment: two bland dinners outside the MSG theater, breakfast at a diner that would rival anything in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and overpriced museum food that brought flashbacks airplane meals (back when they used to feed you). Enough was enough. Mom, Alex and I took a break from some serious shopping to crutch into Beacon, a delightful and delicious delicatessen that gave us the pseudo-high society vibes we were looking for and then some.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>3. Christmas Day</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/388575_10100750871524273_3204915_58953757_591801860_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/388575_10100750871524273_3204915_58953757_591801860_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Not your traditional Christmas, to be sure--what with the added guests, Carly-only presents, limited space, and painkiller buzz (for me, anyway)--but a warm and welcomed one nonetheless. And we were together.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. The Royal Handicap Treatment </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/394486_10100750874682943_3204915_58953820_593476799_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/394486_10100750874682943_3204915_58953820_593476799_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>American Airlines. The Empire State Building. The World Trade Center Memorial. All these institutions get extraordinarily high marks for their treatment of the disabled, specifically me. American Airlines wheeled me to the front of every line you could find, and the flight attendants made sure I was comfortable at all times (business class on the way there felt especially special). At the Empire State Building, the line winded into the cold outdoors, and the wait promised to be a healthy 90 minutes. Oh wait, you're in a wheelchair? Come right this way. Through secret passageways we went, all the way to the top* in less than fifteen minutes, all without so much as a second glance. My family has done a lot of favors for me over the past several weeks--it felt nice to do something (more or less) for them in return. And on our last day, we visited the World Trade Center memorial. I crutched there, now knowing how anti-wheelchairs cab drivers were, and immediately regretted it as I weaved through the construction area just to get to the line. And what happened when I got there? "Would you like a wheelchair, sir?" Oh god, yes. Yes. <br />
<br />
*The 86th floor with the outdoor viewing. The new viewing area on the 102nd floor is not handicap friendly. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. 21st-Century Pen Pals Meet</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/383768_10100750880596093_3204915_58953912_800858913_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/383768_10100750880596093_3204915_58953912_800858913_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Pen pals are sort of a forgotten relationship in the social networking age, but it's the best descriptor I have for a newly met friend. A mutual love for music and obsession with chart statistics led to cautious forum messages, eventual Facebooking, and, finally, near-daily g-chat sessions. We met up our last night in the city, and it was great! Got to drink at a New York gay bar, meet some new people (two of whom live in San Francisco), and feel--for a moment--like I wasn't a cripple. Also got to hear a Kelly Clarkson album track at the bar! Catch up, SF.<br />
<br />
All in all, I fully enjoyed my New York experience!<br />
<br />
...but I live in the superior city. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/t6wcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.imgur.com/t6wcd.jpg" /></a></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-46582282026954341382011-12-17T12:30:00.000-08:002011-12-17T12:30:16.851-08:00The Best of 2011: Music<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Last-minute online Christmas shopping.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Injury frustration. </b><br />
<br />
It's the end of the year, and that means I join every blog in the blogosphere with my second annual year-end countdown. However, what makes my countdown different (I've decided) is that I'm not merely counting down music and movies that were released in 2011, but ones I <i>experienced </i>in 2011. It opens up the list to paint a more accurate picture of what my year was like. And since this is <i>my </i>blog, that's all that matters. No scoffing at how belated I am with certain albums and movies! <br />
<br />
First up: <i>MUSIC</i>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">- ALBUMS - </span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/popcrush.com/files/2011/09/Kelly-Clarkson-Stronger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/popcrush.com/files/2011/09/Kelly-Clarkson-Stronger.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<b>01. <i>Stronger</i>, Kelly Clarkson - </b>Biased? Maybe a little bit. But it was going to take something special even for Kelly to top Adele's masterful <i>21</i>, and she delivered. The album is easy enough to shrug off as more or less more of the same, but it only takes a few listens to see that Kelly's focus in this album is herself, not the men (er, man) who did her wrong. She subtly lashes out at label executives and the media, but never without pulling back to herself and pushing herself to the next step, which, for her, is her 30s--real adulthood. With a voice that only continues to become more full and evocative, she soars to new heights here...I just people start to catch on.<br />
<b>02. <i>21</i>, Adele - </b>There are only a handful of music year-end lists in which Adele's name isn't in the mix, and there's a good reason for that: the simple perfection that is this album. Each melody and lyric demonstrates remarkable, but always effortless, craftsmanship. These aren't songs that were toiled over, forced into creation. The songs flowed, and her voice followed--neither one completely flawlessly, but with complete authenticity.<br />
<b>03. <i>Bon Iver, </i>Bon Iver - </b>Only very recently discovered this and am still sorting my way through it, but the melancholy sound and gripping harmonies give me chills. The lyrics feel original, personal, and poetic, and it's my favorite musical discovery of the year. <br />
<b>04. <i>Born This Way</i>, Lady Gaga - </b>Now this is a record that sounds toiled over. It's overwrought and overworked, but there's such a strong sense of creation, of effort, of exploration, and even some fun, that its impressiveness lies in its audacity. It's no surprise Gaga hasn't found the same pop radio magic with this darker, twisted album, taking religious and disco influences in near equal amounts. It's energetic and frenzied, occasionally distracting, but never boring.<br />
<b>05. <i>4</i>, Beyonce - </b>A grower of an album if I ever found one. I only ever gave "Run the World" a chance because of her stellar Billboard performance, but other than the euphoric (and perfect) "Love On Top," I was uninterested. But track by track, the R&B album grew on me, as did Beyonce's voice, which had never been a favorite of mine, but sounds smooth and strong here.<br />
<b>06. <i>Ceremonials</i>, Florence + The Machine - </b>Like <i>Born This Way</i>, this album comes close to suffering from simply too much. Everything--vocals, instrumentals, song construction, lyrics--are pushed to the band's maximum, and begins to weight the album down. Fortunately, the finished product <i>is </i>strong and interesting and different and creative, and, therefore, mostly successful, even if after five complete listens, I still can't pick out a single track beyond "Shake It Out," the lead single. This is one that takes a while to marinate.<br />
<b>07. <i>Only By The Night</i>, Kings of Leon - </b>Yep, it's a few years old, but not to me. I was aware of (how could you not be?) and enjoyed "Use Somebody," but never compelled enough to listen further. And then I heard "Closer" somewhere, and I bought the album without previewing another track. There's something haunting about that track, and while it's still the highlight of the album for me, the album maintains that gritty, dark, intriguing quality throughout.<br />
<b>08. <i>Femme Fatale</i>, Britney Spears - </b>Not everything has to be chalk-full of meaning; sometimes music can just be fun to listen to (and dance to and drink to and sing to), and that's what Britney's seventh studio album it is. It all too often sounds phoned in and fixed up by producers, but that doesn't detract from the sexy power of "Hold It Against Me," "Inside Out," "Criminal," and a handful of other jams sprinkled across this up-tempo album.<br />
<b>09. <i>Mylo Xyloto</i>, Coldplay - </b>I've never been a huge Coldplay fan, so it seems ridiculous that one of their more critically panned albums worked its way into my iTunes. Maybe it really means I need to explore more from them, but there is a strong (perhaps even too strong) cohesion to the record, with ear-pleasing synthy tracks and airy vocals, highlighted by a surprisingly successful duet with Rihanna in "Princess of China." <b> </b><br />
<b>10. <i>It's Not Me, It's You</i>, Lily Allen - </b>Another belated find...is there a better album title than this? It perfectly sums up Lily Allens' dry, cynical, middle finger pop attitude, and while this album isn't as slick as her delightfully prickly debut, she's still operating to her strengths: mean-spirited, giggly barbs over sunny pop beats and catchy melodies.<br />
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<div style="color: #3d85c6; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>- SONGS - </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v2JC4dLzXC4/Tclv_FgbdcI/AAAAAAAAAPc/xRW9ffvywOs/s1600/Adele.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v2JC4dLzXC4/Tclv_FgbdcI/AAAAAAAAAPc/xRW9ffvywOs/s1600/Adele.jpg" /></a></div><div style="color: #3d85c6; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>01. "Set Fire to the Rain," Adele</b> - No amount of Kelly favoritism was going to top this song this year (unless a certain leaked demo was officially released--then it would have been tight). This has everything I would want in a song. It gives me chills on my 168th listen. It builds to a climax so gratifying, so emotional, that I can't help but get sucked into that last chorus every single time. Adele takes us on a spiraling, vengeful journey that leaves me reeling by the end (and usually pressing repeat). It easily catapults itself to one of my all-time favorite songs.<br />
<b>02. "Dark Side," Kelly Clarkson - </b>If this eventually becomes a single, it will be difficult to leave off my list next year, and there are many songs off <i>Stronger </i>biting at its heels--"Honestly," "You Can't Win," "What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)," "Breaking Your Own Heart"--but ultimately this haunting, ethereal, almost Twilight Zone-ish sound wins out. Kelly morphs her voice to something almost otherworldly, blending dance-pop and soul in a way that I've never heard from her. The song has a yearning vulnerability to it, but the haunting part is that she's still guarded--the sound of a music box creaks open and she begs for someone to accept her dark side, but her voice fades away at the end of the song and the music box closes; she's not ready yet. <br />
<b>03. "Changing Colours," Great Lake Swimmers - </b>New to me, and one of the most painfully honest relationship songs I've ever heard. Though it's certainly (and thankfully) too tragic to be applicable to my relationship, there's value to digesting, dealing with, and accepting feelings as they come, no matter what the outcome. This feels like it goes beyond just being a song, to me; it's like a work of art.<br />
<b>04. "Love On Top," Beyonce - </b>...well fuck that, let's have FUN. I'm in love, dammit, and it doesn't always have to be so <i>dreary</i>. This track is energy. It makes me smile, makes me dance, and makes me sing along to every ridiculous key change. Beyonce's never sounded better, and I will mourn the day I don't hear this and immediately start to jam (though that will probably mean I'm just dead).<br />
<b>05. "Princess of China," Coldplay feat. Rihanna </b>- Usually, for me to really connect to a song, I need a strong vocal and/or lyrics. Simply being catchy will get me to like a song, but not really love it. What seems to matter least is the production--not that it doesn't matter, but it's not my priority. However, it's this track's production that gets me going. I'm not knowledgeable enough to say what instruments capture that buzzing, electronic quality, but the <i>sound </i>of this track is nothing short of epic. The distant, tinny vocals here only work to enhance the metallic feeling of the song, and it all comes together really well.<br />
<b>06. "Help Yourself," Sad Brad Smith - </b>This is cheating even under my list parameters, because I technically heard this song when I saw the movie <i>Up in the Air</i> a few years ago, but I didn't buy it until this year, and it hasn't left my playlist. It's just such a...diddy of a song. I don't know, it makes me happy. The harmonies, the simple instrumentation, the I'll-stand-by-you-but-take-your-time lyrics, it's like the sonic version of having a best friend.<br />
<b>07. "4 AM," Melanie Fiona - </b>A criminally underrated R&B songstress, this is one of the sexiest songs of the year, even though the protagonist isn't getting any because it's 4 a.m. and where the fuck is her man? But you could fry an egg on the track of this song it's so smouldering, and if this is a sign of things to come, Melanie's second album will be even better than her first.<br />
<b>08. "Holocene," Bon Iver - </b>Like his album, I haven't completely cracked the code of this song, but the sound stops me in my tracks. The first time I heard it, I wanted to tear up and I didn't even know what he was singing about.<br />
<b>09. "Scarborough Fair," Simon & Garfunkel - </b>Whoops, I'm several decades behind, etc. This song plays in a wonderfully constructed scene in <i>The Graduate</i>, and it had me pulling out Shazaam and cursing my iPhone 3GS for how slow it was acting, because I didn't want to miss the track. There's just such a relaxing quality to the falsetto singing here that I find truly mesmerizing.<br />
<b>10. "The Edge of Glory," Lady Gaga - </b>The dark and sinister "Bloody Mary" and fun, inside-joke-esque "Bad Kids" were close calls to get this Gaga spot, but ultimately "The Edge of Glory" might just be the most successful song on <i>Born This Way</i>. It builds in all the right spots with a killer vocal and lyrics on the right side of the creative and accessible line. And who doesn't love a sax solo? <br />
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Stay tuned (or, you know, not) for the next installments on my favorite movies, books, TV shows, and personal events! (I'll give you a hint: rupturing my Achilles won't be on the list.)Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-71819893515628810022011-11-17T07:36:00.000-08:002011-11-17T07:36:57.473-08:00Once I Win the Lottery...A G-Chat with Karen<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Fantasizing about what I'll do <i>when </i>I win the lottery.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from: </span>Blowing all my money on lottery tickets. </b><br />
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<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">G-chat. 5:35 - 5:38 p.m. Wednesday, November 16, 2011. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>me:</b> well, what's clearly * actually * going to happen is that i'll win the lottery and you will live in the mansion with me and alejo<br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and then no one has to work</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">our lives will be lunch break</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> that</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">is my new favorite quote.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"our lives will be lunch break."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">i am so down with my "get obnoxiously rich" fantasy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> hahahah</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen: </b> ...and then i'll have a maserati, and a dress made of diamonds...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me: </b> we shall have a mini restaurant run out of our left wing kitchen</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> HAHAHAHA YESSSSSSSS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me: </b> right wing kitchen will be for snacks and baked goods only</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and we will call it fatty kitchen</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen: </b> yes and we'll have some other famous chef in there full time</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">FATTY KITCHEN</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">omg</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">i can't breathe</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">fatty kitchen and fancy kitchen</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"meet me in fatty kitchen."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me</b>: hahah YES YES</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> fatty kitchen has a neverending supply of sour patch kids and smart food</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> mmmmmmm the government needs to get it together and give me my $214 million</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> no</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">joke</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">i want a library like in beauty and the beast, too</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">with rolling ladders</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> oh yes!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen: </b> and huge windows.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> that will be on the left, classy side of the mansion</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> we will recline in patches of sunlight on chaise lounges and ring gilt bells to summon our butlers, who will be bearing chilled mimosas</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> in crystal flutes that we will toss onto the floor when we're done</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> eeeeeeee! yes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"you there. clean up this mess."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">* lights cigarette with hundred dollar bill *</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> "too slow. fired. leave your tux at the dry cleaning station downstairs."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen:</b> "CHEF! WE REQUIRE MORE FOIE GRAS!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> "AND HEAT THE POOL!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> Karen: </b> oh god i am like, reveling in the glory of this fantasy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> me:</b> you must mean reality</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="kn" title="karen.biscopink@gmail.com"><b>Karen:</b> </span> <span dir="ltr" id=":16n">i. love. you. hahahahaha</span></span></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":16o" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">all i'm doing now is going through architecture tumblrs</span></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":16p" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and picking out furniture for us</span></div><div class="km" role="chatMessage" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="kk"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> <span class="kn" title="dannybracco@gmail.com">me: </span></b> <span dir="ltr" id=":16q">oh good</span></span></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":16r"><span style="font-size: small;">a head start</span></div></div><br />
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</span></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-82183736171890196352011-10-25T12:19:00.000-07:002011-10-25T12:36:44.548-07:00Album Review: Kelly Clarkson's Stronger<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Listening to <i>Stronger</i> on repeat. </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Life. </b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Kelly Clarkson settles us into her fifth studio album, <i>Stronger</i>, by sassing and spitting the verses to mid-tempo grower "Mr. Know It All." Her delivery transitions from bratty and indignant to full and secure as she enters the chorus, substituting a rock-ish tinge for a more soulful, full tone.<br />
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That vocal transition can act as a microcosm for the entire album. Clarkson's pop/rock pseudo roots are integrated with her Aretha-obsessed American Idol roots to create a more soulful, more R&B-leaning sound. The album is also far more up-tempo (with welcomed bursts of 80s glory) than her previous albums, featuring only two true ballads on the standard edition of the album. It's a sonic progression that rivals the transition from <i>Thankful</i> to <i>Breakaway</i>, highlighted by a vocal strength that comes from her ever-improving instrument (the best in the mainstream pop landscape) and the producers letting that instrument actually shine and come to life. <br />
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And it does. In the midst of a largely cohesive production quality (remarkable considering the varied--and occasionally unproven in the top 40 landscape--producers attached to the record), Clarkson tells a variety of stories with her voice. She's settled and above it all in "Mr. Know It All" and the slow-jam "The War Is Over"; vulnerable and pleading in "Dark Side" and "Honestly" (the album's highlights are, unsurprisingly, amongst the darkest offerings); feisty and powerful in "What Doesn't Kill You," "Einstein," and "Don't Be A Girl About It" (ignore the dumb-ass "dumb + dumb = you" line and potential sexist implications in the latter two, respectively, and give in to the excellent melodies and production); warm and open in "Standing In Front Of You"; yearning and tired in the beautiful standard edition closer "Breaking Your Own Heart"; and full of almost-30 cynicism and bite in "Let Me Down" and especially "You Can't Win," a lyrical highlight that Clarkson wrote herself. <br />
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Instead of seeming schizophrenic, the album feels very of-the-moment for Clarkson, a stark contrast to her previous album, <i>All I Ever Wanted</i>, a recipe book for what was on the charts as the album was being developed (not, sadly, when it came out--but such is the nature of radio baiting). There's a handful of hits to be found here, but the album doesn't feel designed for radio--it feels designed for Clarkson (whether she had a hand in writing the song or not). That might not make for the commercial success of Katy Perry's <i>Teenage Dream</i> or Clarkson's own <i>Breakaway</i>, but it does make for a great album. Even the most derivative track, "I Forgive You," reads at the very least as a cute and fitting sequel to her monster hit "Since U Been Gone." <br />
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It only takes a few listens of <i>Stronger</i> to realize she's ditched being hurt by and bitching about Mr. Wrong and is simply taking on all things wrong--label executives, friends, family, the media, and, yes, a foolish ex or two--in the name of new-found strength, empowerment, and experience. That expanded point of view is a welcome relief from our Breakup Queen, and reads genuine coming from someone who's fought against the pitfalls of the Idol machine since the beginning. She's older, wiser, and stronger--and now she has a new best album to boot. One that (finally) shows that growth in sound, experience, and vocal ability we've seen from Clarkson in person for years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><u><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">Favorite Five:</span></u><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;"></span></div><ol><li><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">"Honestly"- A haunting, wailing track that begs for the truth at any cost with Clarkson's most evocative studio vocals to date. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">"Dark Side"- A creepy-yet-dance-y plea for a lover to accept all sides of her.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">"You Can't Win"- In throwing back every jab ever thrown at her, Clarkson makes an intensely personal song utterly universal. And a lot of fun. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">"What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)"- New gay anthem! *jams*</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">"Breaking Your Own Heart" - A drained warning to someone she still believes in, but not for long. An emotional high point of the album. </span></li>
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<b>Grade: A</b></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> All productivity.</b><br />
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So. I'm trying this again.<br />
<br />
It's not my fault I've been so bad at posting. I've been too busy reading Karen's deliciously cute and crafty <a href="http://conceptualreception.blogspot.com/">blog</a> while simultaneously hiding from its superiority. Plus, I've been <i>really</i> lazy lately. <br />
<br />
Post-MFA graduation has found me first celebrating my new-found freedom and free time, and then found me wallowing in it. Melting into it. Submerged from toe to nose. Etc.<br />
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Not that I've been a total slob. I work full time, I joined 24 Hour Fitness in the wake of losing my student gym membership (and I'm actually going), I'm still in a fully function and even more fully satisfying relationship, and I'm still reading (currently Franzen's <i>The Corrections</i>). But still. Something about the last month has felt like trudging...fun trudging, but trudging.<br />
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I think October is going to change that, mostly because I've decided it will. I'm at the brink of getting myself into a small, lovely workshop situation again, with a peer's manuscript crisp from the printer ready for a review, another peer's thesis to review, and my own novel to work on for said workshop.<br />
<br />
October will be feature a welcomed integration of new to kick my ass out of Neutral, including (but not limited to):<br />
<ul><li><b>Draft 2 of <i>Muscle Memory</i> - </b>I have started on this, but not much. There is a big new scene I have in mind that will come pretty early, and while it won't shift the book's overall plot, I think it will set me on a more character-enriching path that should color the rest of the story. In theory. </li>
<li><b>A new writing community - </b>I've missed this being a part of my life, and I think being with like-minded creative folk will do me good. </li>
<li><b>Oscar time </b>- With the unveiling of the <i>Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close </i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g46bxv2PkvY">trailer</a>, Oscar season has officially begun. This gets my blood going. I've already seen <i>The Help</i> (great) and <i>Contagion </i>(pretty good), and there are a host of movies I'm ready to bus over to Kabuki for, dragging whoever is willing to join me. Time to start brainstorming Oscar party prizes...</li>
<li><b>Kelly Clarkson's new CD, <i>Stronger</i> - </b>Can't. Even. Wait. It's been two and half years since her last studio album, which--to be honest--was more a collection of solid, of-the-moment pop tracks, leaving the album feeling a bit more like a collection of current sounds than a fully conceived album. With 75 demos and old songs leaking courtesy of thieves and fans even more intense than yours truly, I've heard about half the album in demo form and...it's fabulous. I did the superfan pre-order thing which provides me with a deluxe CD and a bonus EP...all in all, 23 new Kelly Clarkson tracks to spin the shit out of come October 24 (or whenever it leaks). </li>
<li><b>Even more reading - </b>On the list: <i>The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned, The Help, Dangerous Laughter, The Handmaid's Tale, </i>and <i>Bastard Out of Carolina</i>...or whatever comes my way. </li>
<li><b>Halloween - </b>I still have no costume in mind, but I always kind of rock that part, so I'm sure something will come up. (I really am getting anxious about this though). </li>
</ul>And now I'm off to get started. <br />
<br />
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<ul></ul>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-88427117950074963392011-09-06T18:28:00.000-07:002011-09-06T18:28:22.750-07:00Dr. Google<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Watching <i>Roseanne's Nuts.</i></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Icing my ankle.</b><i> </i><br />
<br />
Since last Sunday, I've been consuming Advil and icing my foot in a way that brings me back to my early teen years as a <strike>professional</strike> gymnast. Only this time, there were no doctor visits to diagnose sprains or stress fracture hot spots. All I needed was Google. I typed in my symptoms ("...and waited for cancer to appear on the screen," Miranda Hobbes) and searched through a variety of articles (both Wikipedia and legitimate) until I determined my own medical diagnosis for the pain that has registered me a full-fledged gimp all week long: a high ankle sprain.<br />
<br />
If it sounds serious, it's because it is. I suspect the sprain came about in a similar fashion as Kerri Strug's heroic vault 15 years ago:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://listverse.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/1996-kerri-strug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://listverse.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/1996-kerri-strug.jpg" width="215" /></a> </div><br />
...that, or it came from over-use. Which makes about as much sense as you would think. I have been committed to working out lately, but I've actually lessened my cardio because I was burning too many calories and hindering my muscles that are just itching to bulge out of my skin. All it took was a routine weekend run with my boyfriend and there was immediate pain in my ankle that quickly became more intense and less focused on just my ankle and took over my whole lower leg. Of course, I didn't actually stop until I was as far as possible (given my new, lesser endurance) from my apartment. That was a fun walk back (and not just for me). <br />
<br />
Since then, my exercise has consistently only of a few floor sit-ups and some hobbled Badlands dancing and Union Square shopping, but both of which have resulted in some regret the next day and prolonged pain. All exaggerations aside, it's been a royal pain in the ass and has continued to keep me out of the gym and sitting on my ass. Which usually I like, but now I can see the <strike>years</strike> months of gym work start to evaporate off my very body.<br />
<br />
But today should be my last day of rest. According to Dr. Google, high ankle sprains take a longer time to heal than traditional, trauma-induced ankle sprains (see? even <i>worse </i>than Kerri's little injury), so that gives me a good excuse to ditch cardio for a little while longer.<br />
<br />
Time will tell if this pathetic replacement for a doctor's visit will come back to haunt me, seeing as I don't really know what's wrong or why it happened at all. All that really matters is that I'm in full dancing capacity for a wedding this weekend. Open bar + promises of a taco truck = no room for gimping.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-71762339013455240332011-08-19T12:36:00.000-07:002011-08-19T12:36:08.867-07:00Thesis: Facts and Figures<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Reflection satisfaction. </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Working out on my lunch break.</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_29xG2G4jKvlZimtsDLU5PaEmdl2_BDfGsCrTqKZYjy8yNlkIrXmXi_Tcf1MeUgzTb7QMHfQqIXlgo7PzUE1EZaMYx81iHHDR3akoX3CV7kRbOCOFl0Xgc0kIL7Z-QJ3z9ZjfFmB7XI/s1600/84CDE86F-07A1-C5E5-EDBB-6EEAFE23871Ewallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_29xG2G4jKvlZimtsDLU5PaEmdl2_BDfGsCrTqKZYjy8yNlkIrXmXi_Tcf1MeUgzTb7QMHfQqIXlgo7PzUE1EZaMYx81iHHDR3akoX3CV7kRbOCOFl0Xgc0kIL7Z-QJ3z9ZjfFmB7XI/s400/84CDE86F-07A1-C5E5-EDBB-6EEAFE23871Ewallpaper.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>1</b> thesis advisor </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>3</b> full drafts </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>9</b> workshops</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>19</b> submissions </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>25</b> readers</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>483 </b>pages written in Thesis II </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>873</b> total submission pages </div><div style="color: #990000; text-align: center;"><b>380</b> final thesis pages</div><div style="color: #990000; text-align: center;"><br />
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Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-45597991873375775942011-08-10T19:08:00.000-07:002011-08-10T19:08:12.791-07:00Recipe for Coexisting with Nature<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Sorting through vacation pictures.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Final thesis edits (and insanity). </b><br />
<br />
It may shock some of you to know that there are people out there who believe I will shun nature and the outdoors any chance I get. And I was one of them. <br />
<br />
I'll let that sink in.<br />
<br />
Contrary to that notion, there is, indeed, a way to conjure up a nature-tastic experience that I would enjoy. It's a rather simple, straightforward recipe (as all the ones I work with are):<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #741b47; text-align: center;">1 cabin (with indoor plumbing, bedding, and lots of windows--with screens)<br />
1-2 bottles of sunscreen <br />
1-2 bottles of "Off!" (or other bug repellent) <br />
2 pairs of sunglasses<br />
2 bathing suits<br />
Constant sun (preferably coupled with a breeze)<br />
Water (pool, spa, river, lake, ocean--all acceptable)<br />
Good people (as many as you can round up)</div><br />
Yes, I've had an epiphany. I am not a nature hater. There. I said it. I find scenery and a fast-moving river and trees and sunsets and stars all absolutely gorgeous. Breathtaking, even, when it's nature at its best. It's calming and captivating. All that good stuff.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhA5hl6vdnnxj1X9Zpo0oEIN1_wDFieYtaht1QVIHAaCgOKcUrVKlbio0CQ_BFV0cQwWSEegYtqzSDqy5qsUdUyKJY3hJgafCoC-i2Q2iX0VGyv3cqJfZlAFG3MHpRkOFfZ6z6QfN6Io/s1600/IMG_0901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhA5hl6vdnnxj1X9Zpo0oEIN1_wDFieYtaht1QVIHAaCgOKcUrVKlbio0CQ_BFV0cQwWSEegYtqzSDqy5qsUdUyKJY3hJgafCoC-i2Q2iX0VGyv3cqJfZlAFG3MHpRkOFfZ6z6QfN6Io/s320/IMG_0901.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Private beach: serenity incarnate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
There's just one thing.<br />
<br />
I need a respite. I need a place to separate myself from the earth and all its inhabitants, and I need that at my disposal. And I won't apologize for it.<br />
<br />
See, I have a lot of friends who can just roll up in a Jeep with a sleeping bag and climbing gear and thermal underwear and toe shoes and park themselves in the dirt for a week and have a grand ol' time, and I'm often treated as some indoor princess and pavement fanatic for not jumping at the opportunity to join them. This, however, is only partially true. <br />
<br />
What's wrong with enjoying nature from the occasional distance? Nothing, I say. Put me in a campground all day--I'll bask in the sun, soak in the river, pee in the bushes. I'll do it all...so long as when the sun goes down and the liquor dries out, I can return to a cabin with doors and indoor plumbing to rest, cleanse, and sleep.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSzqamOkPCEmOx0C847W7RcMxb17jPJRIzRP8MH7SNOexF2Cy0vZEdOcSk2Qu10jAd5JqpvAUWEy7n6ez0LLEW8-Ul7P4dVSKJtfqfa11uMcKnI0LtI15CihsfmybcHD9phY6bILDMz8/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSzqamOkPCEmOx0C847W7RcMxb17jPJRIzRP8MH7SNOexF2Cy0vZEdOcSk2Qu10jAd5JqpvAUWEy7n6ez0LLEW8-Ul7P4dVSKJtfqfa11uMcKnI0LtI15CihsfmybcHD9phY6bILDMz8/s320/IMG_0472.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeI2QyoHW6emuAsksr20u2JF1wkHkgjzs29HGyqXXDwUkMGTsD0YVPZLtM78119V7E9_3J-Q_4OADgLaDaOxD2lYE0B63pMj01gqgcLLYlqx2eYE6ZVwHi4fqwbCDf_4UHYL-mGUwlyk/s1600/IMG_0898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>All these needs--which, really, aren't much--were met on my recent trip to Leavenworth, WA for the McKay family reunion, and it was a great time. This was no surprise, but I did come to realize that I can get that warm, fuzzy feeling with nature, so long as I'm not left for dead inside it. But I do get it. As I stood with my boyfriend and Aunt Tavi on our cabin deck, which overlooked the maddening and mesmerizing Icicle River, my aunt said, "No matter what's going on in my life, good or bad, I can come here and look at the river and know that it will always be here and always be flowing," and there's something to that idea that really resonates. Especially in the midst of my end-of-thesis craze.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeI2QyoHW6emuAsksr20u2JF1wkHkgjzs29HGyqXXDwUkMGTsD0YVPZLtM78119V7E9_3J-Q_4OADgLaDaOxD2lYE0B63pMj01gqgcLLYlqx2eYE6ZVwHi4fqwbCDf_4UHYL-mGUwlyk/s1600/IMG_0898.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeI2QyoHW6emuAsksr20u2JF1wkHkgjzs29HGyqXXDwUkMGTsD0YVPZLtM78119V7E9_3J-Q_4OADgLaDaOxD2lYE0B63pMj01gqgcLLYlqx2eYE6ZVwHi4fqwbCDf_4UHYL-mGUwlyk/s320/IMG_0898.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Needless to say, seeing the McKay family again--and having Alex come--was a truly wonderful time, and I know I could really enjoy it because I had a place to come "home" to at the end of the day. And if that makes me an indoor princess who hates nature, well...fuck you, you're wrong. I just need my nature a little watered down. <br />
<br />
You enjoy your dirt hole, and I'll enjoy my flushing toilet. Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-9329835024922611802011-07-17T16:34:00.000-07:002011-07-17T16:34:08.410-07:00Bachelor Weekend<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> <i>Roseanne </i>marathon.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Cleaning the bedroom. </b><br />
<br />
Alex went down to L.A. this weekend for his sister's birthday and a family photo, and I chose to stay behind. The last four weekends have all revolved around day drinking and/or thesis work, and every evening has been devoted to thesis work alone. But this weekend I'm waiting on feedback for my second half of my novel, I was free. In every sense of the word.<br />
<br />
The apartment was mine. All to myself. As was the city. All the freedom in the world (within the confines of a monogamous relationship, of course). Here's a breakdown of my weekend:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizueYsmaS_x_NGQOnLHq4hyNLOphhRPXrnAUwdlI0y5V2JqZJMg5SefRs3pdDh4qKrd04x-NM_Dp3iyREsiQFQBmmGD1qgk3hYjqVsf99fToyEJjiioXfuiiUBmQSAFoBBy29mm8YlDkM/s1600/-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizueYsmaS_x_NGQOnLHq4hyNLOphhRPXrnAUwdlI0y5V2JqZJMg5SefRs3pdDh4qKrd04x-NM_Dp3iyREsiQFQBmmGD1qgk3hYjqVsf99fToyEJjiioXfuiiUBmQSAFoBBy29mm8YlDkM/s320/-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My uniform and post for the weekend.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <i>Friday Night</i><br />
-"Writing without Walls" reading (hit and miss, to be honest, but USFers triumphed and I had one of my most fun conversations evaaar with my beloved Karen)<br />
<i> </i>-Frozen ravioli dinner<br />
-<i>Sex and the City </i>marathon<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>-Couldn't fall asleep, so I made good use of the internet and...finally fell asleep<br />
<br />
<i>Saturday Morning/Day</i><br />
-Watched the first two recorded episodes of <i>Roseanne's Nuts </i>(healthy doses of funny and crazy--typical Roseanne)<br />
-Went to the gym (On. A. Saturday.)<br />
-Cleaned the bathroom<br />
<br />
<i>Saturday Night</i><br />
-Got takeout from "Bistro Gambrinus" across the street (not the best salmon burger ever, but great fries)<br />
-Watched <i>For Your Consideration </i><br />
-Downloaded more Kelly Clarkson leaks (have yet to listen--have had mental tug-of-war about what to do since)<br />
<i>-</i>Read more of the brilliant <i>Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close</i><br />
<br />
<i>Sunday </i><br />
<i>-</i>Went to Starbucks, got a pastry, and watched <i>Doubt </i> <br />
-Long, good talk with my mom<br />
<i>-Roseanne </i>marathon<br />
<br />
This is a long-winded way of saying I did jack shit, and it felt awesome. Yes, it could have been fun to fly solo in the Castro to see if I can score a free drink or two, but the aforementioned weekend alcohol binges left me promising myself a detox weekend. And I think it was the right choice. I haven't felt lazier or better. I feel re-energized and refreshed, which will be necessary as the thesis is due in exactly one month. I also wanted to clean the whole apartment this weekend, but it's already 4:30 p.m. on Sunday and all that's done is the bathroom, so...<i> </i><i> </i><br />
<br />
One other thing: I'm not a fan of sleeping alone. I'll be very gladly welcoming Alex home in a few hours...it just may not be to a clean apartment.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-77112930929325782782011-06-22T18:53:00.000-07:002011-06-22T18:58:47.479-07:00Stuff that Brings Out the Gay<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Watching live Adele performances. </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Putting clean laundry away. </b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GAP66JtcC_A-uyCaXhbBBajWQdsLrNMMOIVdoiXjAlNo2nEPWBhtPzGkmTBzm01RHWfLBzvJ3aAyotpEOF5ZuR2m2YapiSuEXK-KfLWn7eBKWmhudeVSnQbb-AUP6jcDC0iGefGIxGc/s1600/070111052251dq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GAP66JtcC_A-uyCaXhbBBajWQdsLrNMMOIVdoiXjAlNo2nEPWBhtPzGkmTBzm01RHWfLBzvJ3aAyotpEOF5ZuR2m2YapiSuEXK-KfLWn7eBKWmhudeVSnQbb-AUP6jcDC0iGefGIxGc/s320/070111052251dq.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.thehumanist.org/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/070111052251dq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>It's Gay Pride Month! Pride is a mere few days away, but the gay gene knows nor cares about any such calendar. No matter the month, there are a few things that will send me into a queeny fit faster than Shangela in a lip-sync competition. I realized this at the gym today when, while lifting dumbbells, N*SYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" came on and it was only due to the struggle to lift the dumbbells that I didn't break into an all-out dance in front of the wall-to-wall mirrors. So, in the spirit of the month, I've been pontificating as to what triggers my inner gay to become an outer one. And because I'm OCD like that, I had to make enough to do rainbow colors. Deal. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></div><div style="color: red; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">1. Halloween</span></div>I mean, duh. Costumes, makeup, candy, alcohol, parties, dancing...sign me up for twice a year. And though I only dipped into drag once, it was really amazing, if I do say so myself (if completely wasted on a Davis audience):<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AbFab, natch.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div style="color: orange; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: orange; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2. Wedding dance floors</span></div>There's something about them--the age range, the go-to 80s songs, the open bar (ideally), and--most often--my sister and mother at my side that just puts me in my element.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ffd966; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">3. Nostalgic bubblegum pop/R&B</span></div>Including, but not limited to, early Britney and Destiny's Child, as well as "The Boy is Mine," "Hit 'Em Up Style," "Bye Bye Bye," "Wannabe," "Genie In A Bottle," "Faded" and "Are You That Somebody?"<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #38761d; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">4. Champagne</span></div>It's alcohol. Bubbly alcohol. Bubbly alcohol that's perfectly acceptable to consume morning, noon, and night. Check.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #3d85c6; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">5. My favorite famous females</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2007/specials/beauties07/everyage/meryl_streep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2007/specials/beauties07/everyage/meryl_streep.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img2.timeinc.net/ew/dynamic/imgs/090123/Must-List/Kelly-Clarkson_l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img2.timeinc.net/ew/dynamic/imgs/090123/Must-List/Kelly-Clarkson_l.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://download-weeds-episodes.edogo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/2632_i1_mary_louise_parker01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://download-weeds-episodes.edogo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/2632_i1_mary_louise_parker01.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn2.screenjunkies.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/roseanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://cdn2.screenjunkies.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/roseanne.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixny-ICYFjcN6rSHYxfVGWYWSiNME3UpYsT5UAX8CNdjoDCNZ97pcrB-HVRNo9Nb7bzd2kg4wH_E4sAvRDYXZwDVWpRNauke1nRFUjntii103tYeMitED0kTAgBaMFBJY_pFt0oKj0Q9g/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-06-22+at+6.45.37+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixny-ICYFjcN6rSHYxfVGWYWSiNME3UpYsT5UAX8CNdjoDCNZ97pcrB-HVRNo9Nb7bzd2kg4wH_E4sAvRDYXZwDVWpRNauke1nRFUjntii103tYeMitED0kTAgBaMFBJY_pFt0oKj0Q9g/s320/Screen+shot+2011-06-22+at+6.45.37+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="color: #073763; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">5. Scrapbooking</span></div>SHUT UP. I've made three (well, two, but my Davis one required two scrapbooks to fit all the modness) and I love them. Too expensive and time consuming to do regularly (plus I'm sure at some point I'd actually acquire menopause), but I love putting on my headphones and crafting out at 3 a.m.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNElRwkE859rOXsgG3oUk1iNCluFduJileB08BLnCBPBbs_15UXoGf0PAGB8IRS6c3ZVWxdgk0OYsr6XjCi_TkYFYtqIrHbWqAqf2eD34v3OkdoaTMI1slNHWXwCRkvGsXv8thIBYS5B4/s1600/IMG_0427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNElRwkE859rOXsgG3oUk1iNCluFduJileB08BLnCBPBbs_15UXoGf0PAGB8IRS6c3ZVWxdgk0OYsr6XjCi_TkYFYtqIrHbWqAqf2eD34v3OkdoaTMI1slNHWXwCRkvGsXv8thIBYS5B4/s320/IMG_0427.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: purple; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">6. Movies I've memorized</span></div>There are comedies that are so good, committing them to memory just sort of happens. Such films include <i>The Birdcage</i>, <i>Death Becomes Her</i>, <i>Drop Dead Gorgeous</i>, and <i>Best In Show</i>. Proper intonation required while going through dialogue with those special family and friends that have memorized them, too.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></div>So voilà. Bask in my pride, and what brings it out faster than anything else. Well, except for, you know, naked men. Attractive naked men in particular. And this guy in most particular:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247063_10100388963421013_3204915_55810696_4784847_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247063_10100388963421013_3204915_55810696_4784847_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-25094655510614276902011-06-02T08:42:00.000-07:002011-06-02T10:41:39.548-07:00Oprah and I Turn 25<div style="color: #b45f06;"><b>Mode of distraction: <span style="color: black;">Contemplating a lifetime (i.e., spending too much time on YouTube for the purposes of this post).</span></b></div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><b>Distracting me from: <span style="color: black;">Getting back to work. </span></b></div><br />
"25? <i>Fuck </i>I'm old!"<br />
<br />
I've been waiting to say that phrase since I first saw the <i>Sex and the City </i>episode it belongs to back in the early 2000s, when I finally came around and caught up on this show. A drunk loser says it during Carrie's birthday dinner from hell (she's turning 35, by the way).<br />
<br />
<br />
And now I can finally say it. Time most definitely flies.<br />
<br />
But this is where Oprah and I differ. Oprah, after a mere 25 years, is calling it quits. This bitch. What kind of message is that sending to those like me, only just turning 25? Is it really over now? All downhill from here? Oprah has proven herself a truly savvy businesswoman--maybe she just knows when to get out, while I (and most others) do not.<br />
<br />
If 25 really is the peak, then I'm giving myself a slice of Oprah and doing a very special birthday blog post. Iiiiiiiiit's...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">MY FAVORITE THINGS!!!</span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i33.tinypic.com/invdzq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i33.tinypic.com/invdzq.jpg" /></a></div><a href="http://i33.tinypic.com/invdzq.jpg" target="_blank"></a>Having lived/survived/managed/grown/learned/succeeded/failed for a quarter of a century now, and because--again--Oprah and I have just <i>so much in common</i>, I'm going to reflect on the things that make me <i>me</i>, broken down into key (superficial) facets. And you will watch. Because it's my birthday (week).<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://psphackguides.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/OC_MovieReel.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://psphackguides.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/OC_MovieReel.png" /></a></div>No, this is not going to be a list of my favorite movies of all time (mullhollanddrthebirdcagedeathbecomeshermoulinrougerequiemforadreamangelsinamerica). Movies have been a part of my being since, well, yeah, seeing all the Disney movies growing up. But I really think <i>A Fish Called Wanda </i>earns the most credit for shaping me, my love for movies, and my family's intimate connection with them. I think I first saw this Rated R flick at age, what, seven? And Jamie Lee Curtis' swiftly delivered "What about my tits?" line proved to be absolutely the funniest thing I'd ever heard in my life to that point. It marked the transition from movie watching to movie memorizing, and my entire family can repeat lines to that movie on a dime. That, my friends, is how you judge a comedy.<br />
<b> </b><br />
True to growing-up form, I have continued to love and appreciate the movies watched and recited with my family, while moving on and finding my own. My #1 most quotable comedy goes to none other than Mike Nichol's sublime <i>The Birdcage</i>. It's simply the best. And trust that TRAC and I can quote the entire thing, from start to finish, with perfect intonation. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/u7moGlHRNi8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Sigh, Nathan Lane really did deserve an Oscar for this role. Perfection.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.onlinedownloads.org/diary/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/free-online-music.thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.onlinedownloads.org/diary/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/free-online-music.thumbnail.jpg" /></a></div>Admittedly, my appreciation for music came late in life. Most of my early CDs were simply movie soundtracks (such as the one for <i>Speed 2</i>, and I'm not even kidding). Though, I must give props to TLC, who managed to break through my ignorance with <i>CrazySexyCool</i>--the first CD I ever purchased and one I both still own and love.<br />
<b> </b><br />
But even TLC was no match for one voice that would shine above the rest (well, okay, two if you count my sister, because her voice does all the same things for me). In 2002, two things happened: my sister became interested in Broadway singers as she started voice lessons, and <i>American Idol </i>started. Upon listening to Linda Eder blasted through my sister's walls, I realized I really appreciated that she had such a <i>good </i>voice. That gay tuning fork inside me began to ring, and just as my love for big-voiced divas was finally starting to take shape, an adorably confident and humble Kelly Clarkson took the cheap, Season-One stage of <i>American Idol </i>to belt out a twangy and pitch-fucking-perfect "Respect."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/gn5PeEVm8T8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Seriously, how cute is she? And amazing? I thought so, too. I really liked Tamyra as well, and still think they're the best contestants to ever grace this rapidly declining show (that I haven't actually watched since Season Five). I went through a big-voiced diva phase (Whitney, Mariah, Celine, Barbra, Linda, etc.), and while I still like and appreciate their talent, my musical taste has since expanded greatly. But my love for Kelly Clarkson has only grown. Her voice is phenom, she can sing anything, and she just seems like a way cool person. I'd post more videos, but I don't want to lose you, and when her new album drops this fall I'm pretty sure I'll be dedicating a whole post to her anyway.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.ehow.com/images/a04/8q/l5/start-writing-book-200X200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.ehow.com/images/a04/8q/l5/start-writing-book-200X200.jpg" /></a></div>Can't forget this. I grew up a terrible speller, probably from some mix of laziness and my first-grade teacher who had us write in journals every morning using "inventive spelling." She just wanted us to write and not worry about the technicalities. So...I didn't. Until my best friend, Kevin, in fifth grade, in big letters, on the big whiteboard, wrote "BROCKEN" and explained to anyone listening that this was how I continually misspelled "broken." Oh, the shame. But hey, it kick-started me into getting my shit together. And now I am a copywriter, editor, and soon-to-be-recipient of an MFA in Writing. Who knew?<br />
<b> </b><br />
But I must credit one teacher for <i>really </i>making me realize I had a knack for writing, even though I hated her (for, like, two seconds) for doing so. We had an assignment in seventh grade to write about a personal experience. I wrote about the time my dick of a third grade history teacher gave me an F on a test--my first F--and I realized he actually marked one of my answers as incorrect when it was correct. He looked it over, nodded, and put a "+" mark next to my F. Piece. Of. Shit. Anyway, my seventh grade teacher thought the story was so good (it sort of writes itself, doesn't it?) she read it aloud in class. Embarrassing, but then I knew I was good at something. It took plenty more years and teacher confirmations before I pursued creative writing aggressively, but that was the start.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/f_student_t_shirt-p235350529424621463t5hl_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/f_student_t_shirt-p235350529424621463t5hl_400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.iphonealley.com/images/storyimages/december08/television.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.iphonealley.com/images/storyimages/december08/television.jpg" /></a></div>I <i>need </i>my TV time. I just do. It's how I unwind. I watch it all, from brilliantly written shows like <i>Weeds, Damages</i>, and <i>Modern Family</i> to trashy reality TV like the <i>Real Housewives </i>franchises (even the shitty ones like Miami and D.C.). I get absorbed and happy when I watch, so I don't care what you say. And when it comes to marathoning a favorite, it doesn't get any better than the groundbreaking and beloved <i>Roseanne</i>.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/x8P1t6fqE3s?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tbwe.com/pub/categoryitems/Gymnastics_tn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.tbwe.com/pub/categoryitems/Gymnastics_tn.jpg" /></a></div>Finally, gymnastics. Yes, I did a sport. Only for fun, but it's been a huge part of my life and, through the magic of YouTube, still is. I use to watch it endlessly, and left patches of dead grass in my backyard from where my feet hit as I ran up to our trampoline. It's the most demanding and spectacular sport there is. And over the years, my numerous favorite gymnasts over the years have changed and finally settled on one: Vanessa Atler. She is far from a household name, but was touted to be the next big name in 1997. Her talent, at least in the United States, was truly unsurpassed, but a lack of mental toughness and confidence (plus eventual surgeries and an eating disorder, as well as a host of other disadvantages) left her off the 2000 Olympic Team. I was there with my family for those Olympic Trials, and it was heartbreaking to watch her fall so spectacularly apart. But now I remember her fondly for her power and spirit, and this routine remains my favorite floor routine of all time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/VeBvGK_jYlc/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VeBvGK_jYlc&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VeBvGK_jYlc&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><br />
The choreography is great and so well executed, but that first pass is really what stands out. Unreal. Incidentally, I ended up writing her on Facebook to geek out for a bit and she responded and was really sweet. Win. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://imstars.aufeminin.com/stars/fan/meryl-streep/meryl-streep-20070612-268737_V96.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://imstars.aufeminin.com/stars/fan/meryl-streep/meryl-streep-20070612-268737_V96.jpg" /></a></div>Um, pretty much deserves her own mention. And I've met her. It might have been as a brace-faced 15-year-old who announced to her within seconds of meeting her that <i>Death Becomes Her </i>was my favorite movie of all time (we were at the Academy Award rehearsals for the year she received her <i>Adaptation </i>nomination, by the way...), but I still met her so I still win. Proof that my 25 years is superior to Oprah's is right here:<br />
<b></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzO_L8JuS6GqvKAA5FmAXlW_XG8McLazh2HyvRL2xmKzBg4yHD82lNpTM4FbkK8kdaWwQX5eqqv0iCMcaKnhFKTOTbILjMYRigXH17p1y3HubnA1TWHzeXBcceABd9lxrdpiaZG8Mj6gE/s1600/48100021a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzO_L8JuS6GqvKAA5FmAXlW_XG8McLazh2HyvRL2xmKzBg4yHD82lNpTM4FbkK8kdaWwQX5eqqv0iCMcaKnhFKTOTbILjMYRigXH17p1y3HubnA1TWHzeXBcceABd9lxrdpiaZG8Mj6gE/s320/48100021a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So, that about covers it for this epic blog post. But you only turn 25 once. And, yes, <i>obviously</i>, I would be nowhere (quite literally) without my family. They are everything. I couldn't have asked for more love, support, inspiration, humor, and drama (you have to have the drama or then you just grew up too lucky and jaded). And, since I'm a total mamma's boy, my mother deserves her own special shout out on this monumental occasion. You really are the best.<br />
<br />
You're now free to get back to your daily routines. For all those people in my life who I both like and love, thank you for making this all so worthwhile that I am, <i>unlike Oprah</i>, continuing with life after 25. It seems like the thing to do. For all those people in my life who I both dislike and hate, fuck you. You're probably necessary to keep me grounded and all that, and for that I...well, whatever, I still don't like you.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-35316724223089526862011-05-27T14:07:00.000-07:002011-05-27T14:15:33.704-07:00Anorexia-Alcoholism: An Unfortunate Hybrid<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Trying (and failing) to come up with a Brangelina-esque word for anorexia-alcoholism that I like enough to put in the title. </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Actually eating lunch on my lunch break. </b><br />
<br />
As I'm days away from turning 25, the dust from turning 21 has most definitely settled and being able to order drinks at bars, clubs, restaurants, and airplanes has become second nature (okay, ordering on airplanes still feels fun). But, as discussed in a previous entry, I've become focused on this "getting in shape" situation and try to get to the gym 4-5 times a week, and now that I've been doing that for a few months, it should surprise exactly no one who knows me that I've entered the obsessive realm. Not going four times a week feels like failing, and I've come to contemplate everything I put in my mouth (sigh...dick joke, snicker, etc.). <br />
<br />
I was out to dinner with Alex's family last night at the delicious <a href="http://patxispizza.com/">Patxi's Chicago Pizza</a> in Hayes Valley, and we discussed the availability of wine and beer. Beer actually sounded good, but I turned it down (in favor of Coke, which really makes no sense for the topic of this blog, but whatever). Almost always at restaurants nowadays I get water, not alcohol. Same for when friends come over for movie nights. In the days of yore I would have enjoyed a nice glass of wine or three to unwind, but now I'll just stick with water or one of the remaining Big Sticks (sigh...dick joke, snicker, etc.) in my freezer from San Francisco's random sunny weekends. <br />
<br />
Why? I don't typically want to drink alcohol unless I'm going to get drunk.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-ash1/v78/237/17/3204915/n3204915_34385029_697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-ash1/v78/237/17/3204915/n3204915_34385029_697.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quintessential 21st birthday shot. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Yikes. Really? But yes, it's true. Alcohol, like all things great, is filled with calories, and why waste them when I'm not even going to reap their full benefits? Granted, I'm not trying to lose weight, but I do have pesky lower belly fat that I stare at incessantly upon entering and exiting the shower, and I'm pretty sure that it's a physical manifestation of my drug of choice. Or just natural body fat that would require a more serious exercise/diet effort to lose than I'm willing/able to perform. Either way, it's there, and I'd rather it not be...unless the upside is a lowered sense of awareness while dancing with my favorite people in a crowded, trashy, loud environment. Or shit talking on my couch. Or dodging rats at Hobson's.<br />
<br />
So, I've completed Step One. I've admitted I have a problem. Therefore, I'll be pouring myself a singular glass of wine <strike>now</strike> as soon as I'm off work.<br />
<br />
I feel better already.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-44031357353555756302011-05-18T18:35:00.000-07:002011-05-18T18:35:23.751-07:00Faux Freedom<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Buying new and new-to-me music.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Thesis writing. </b><br />
<br />
Classes. Are. Over. It was worthy, is worthy, and will continue to be worthy of a true "Raise Your Glass" moment:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgR1b1di6b9g5bhuPAwJXLErXEvsVoZgUY0xFtnzo4B1JlMmXPFMPEYYNdvqQUu705StQQI8KgneySXopYXFJisrK90UlkQ0fd9toUGXs5pqZbKK8PurjF7agIjcPH5TU42JMUNMYkCY/s1600/IMG_0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgR1b1di6b9g5bhuPAwJXLErXEvsVoZgUY0xFtnzo4B1JlMmXPFMPEYYNdvqQUu705StQQI8KgneySXopYXFJisrK90UlkQ0fd9toUGXs5pqZbKK8PurjF7agIjcPH5TU42JMUNMYkCY/s320/IMG_0444.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The post-final class drinks at the reliable (take as you will) Hobson's was a necessary way to end the semester. After a last class that actually ran five minutes over (I mean, WTF), I met with Karen and Alex and ranted and (practically) ran to the bar. Fairly certain I took a shot before I even said hi to anyone. After I had chased it with a few sips of a vodka tonic, I felt human and ready to socialize. It's been said in countless status updates and slurred side-hugs, but I do thank everyone (you know who you are) involved in that program who made it a really special and helpful experience. And for those of you who didn't...thanks for the stories (not the ones you wrote, necessarily, but the ones you provided nonetheless).<br />
<br />
The celebration couldn't last long, however, with my looming thesis deadline: a fully revised first half of my thesis due to Max on May 23. I figured this would be about 150 pages, as I see my thesis wrapping up at around 300 (currently around the 250 range), but it is now 6:30-something on May 18 and I'm at page 102. And I know I need to edit. So, methinks I've got another chapter.5 in me and then it'll be time to press print and just hope I've been overestimating the length of my story. This could all just be my body providing me with a built-in excuse because I'm so fucking tired from my continual work-gym-library combo I've been rocking these last few days. <br />
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I did pause in productivity to partake in my first-ever Bay to Breakers! Our group was "You Are What You Drink," and I selected the delectable mimosa to represent myself. Feast your eyes on my costume-making prowess, which--coupled with my beloved Tokyo Tea--garnered praise throughout the day:<br />
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It was a fun day--maybe eight degrees too cold, and I could have done without a slew of straight boys turning my apartment to a bigger mess than our housewarming party did in about half the time, but what are you gonna do? Why, bitch about it on your blog, of course! Oh, and boys--I know dick aiming becomes only more taxing while intoxicated, but seriously--the amount of piss on my toilet seat caused Hobson's flashbacks. Gain control or sit down until you can piss like a lady.<br />
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... <br />
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Anyway, off to write...because school ain't over yet.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-60404286974580884162011-05-13T18:07:00.000-07:002011-05-13T18:22:54.533-07:00Aloe Vera and Adrienne Villafana<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Putting my new Kelly Clarkson song leak on repeat.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Getting changed for a celebratory dinner at Tataki.</b><br />
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Okay, so, I meant to do this blog post a week ago. Everyone get in your mental Deloreans and pretend this was last week. This also explains why my post isn't about my very last week of class EVER, but I need more distance to write about that. All I could say about that now is...<br />
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So, onto last week, because it was a good one, and because my foot is still peeling from the sunburn. That's right. SUNBURN. We had a hot, nice, amazing weekend in San Francisco. So nice, in fact, that Alex and myself took a trip to Golden Gate Park with Elliot's little well-behaved mongrel, Moose, and laid out in the sun. Shirtless and everything--and I was relieved to discover that everyone in San Francisco was in the same pasty position I was. I covered myself in sunscreen from head to <strike>toe</strike> mid-shin. I have no idea why I just didn't commit to the whole leg, but I burnt pretty badly there. Thank god for <b>A</b>loe <b>V</b>era. Imagine if I hadn't put any sunscreen on? I'd have taken all the Vicodin I could find and slept in a bathtub for five days.<br />
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Speaking of <b>A</b>loe <b>V</b>era, my beloved <a href="http://unseenexposure.blogspot.com/"><b>A</b>drienne <b>V</b>illafana</a> (see what I did there?) visited all the way from ho-hum Washington D.C. for the weekend! We kicked off the visit with a potluck at Elliot's, then drank and danced the night away on Friday, Davis style--with King's Cup and everything!<br />
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Turned out, we drank a little too much (I know, I was shocked, too), because one of our friends had a <i>real </i>college flashback and ended up throwing up all night while I grabbed wads of her hair from her face and sat on the kitchen floor with her...alone...for hours. Really brings me back.<br />
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We had scheduled a more low-key game night for Saturday, but after a series of truly unfortunate events, that didn't happen. I was ready to kinda sorta lose my shit about it (because it was a plan! and Adrienne was only here for a short time! and I hate stupid decisions! and it was a plan!), but Alex convinced me to not go on a total Danny tirade when Elliot and Adrienne finally arrived at our place at 11:30, and so I just went to bed. The next morning, before Adrienne had to go back to the airport, we had what can only be described as a perfectly lovely brunch. It was a great way to end the trip. There's a lesson here somewhere, but...I'm gonna go ahead and ignore that.<br />
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Needless to say, it was amazing having Adrienne back. It felt so natural, like she had only been gone two weeks. And I think we showered her with enough love that she'll be back settled in San Francisco by the end of 2012. I'm calling it. Make it happen, darling, because I miss you already!Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-81675258335910982842011-05-01T14:28:00.000-07:002011-05-06T17:14:48.300-07:00New Year's Resolution: Checking In<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction: </span>Body dysmorphia.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from: </span>Tending to my sunburned foot. </b><br />
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My New Year's resolution for the past five years or so has been the same vague, tired, cliche wish: to get in shape. I have a naturally fast metabolism and difficulty putting on any real weight, which garners me no sympathy...and no substantial muscle mass. Thus, getting into optimal shape has yet to really take place.<br />
<br />
Also, I hate working out.<br />
<br />
But this year, I have been faithfully going to the gym since the beginning of February and am actually getting to the point where I can see improvement. This presents a predicament: I had sort of assumed I had the sort of DNA that simply wouldn't allow this to happen, no matter what I did. There. Absolved of responsibility.<br />
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While I'm hardly busting out of my XS t-shirts, things are improving, so...fuck. I guess it just means I need to really work at it. How ugly. My goal this time, however, is more focused: I want to look like this by the time I turn in my thesis this coming August:<br />
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Guffaw. The reality is that I'll fall short of this, but it seems within physical reason...ish...to pursue nonetheless. I'm just gonna go ahead and ignore who this is, but which of you queens don't need the face to know the name? Also, since I've neglected the blog for so long, I knew I had to lure in all my lost readers (all 13 of you!) with a bit o' flesh. Sort of like a desperate TV show that has jumped the shark in its first season. <br />
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In other far more important news, <b>Adrienne returned to San Francisco for a visit this week!</b> It was a pretty glorious weekend in general (hence the sunburn), but I'll save that post for later this week. Gotta get back into the habit of doing this and making those distractions count for something moderately productive. <br />
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Off to either take advantage of the sun or take advantage of a napping boyfriend and get some thesis work done.<br />
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Or, likely, more distractions...Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-59466495614701861942011-03-23T15:38:00.000-07:002011-03-23T15:38:21.803-07:00Car-Free in San Francisco<b style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</b> Celebrating no longer having to move a car for street cleaning days.<br />
<b style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</b> ...paying my last parking ticket. <br />
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Lowering my carbon footprint. Sticking it to high gas prices. Helping the environment. Acknowledging my budget by utilizing public transportation. <br />
<br />
None of that really matters. I'm car-free in San Francisco and all I care about is that I don't have to move the car twice a week for street cleaning. <b>REJOICE!</b><br />
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Mi amor y yo made a fairly impromptu trip down to LA on the tail end of my spring break to deposit said inconvenience machine at his house, where it will stay until it is sold (then we'll really rejoice). This began with a 5:45 am start time. <br />
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Once we made it past the bridge, we embarked on our drive down the desolate I-5 waiting for the sun to rise. Which it did, slowly and with fairly muted colors of blue (not the golden red eye-gasm I was hoping for).<br />
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And then, the unthinkable. A pair of Central California criminals caught up to our car in their motorcycle and ripped my phone out of my own hands. Distraught but not deterred, we took our losses and kept on with our trip home. About an hour later, I noticed something shimmer amongst the yellowing grass and dry dirt. Could it be? Yes, it was my phone! I inspected it immediately, and came across a crucial bit of evidence to find the thieves:<br />
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They went to McDonalds. For <i>breakfast</i>. How atrocious. Clearly, after loading up on <strike>delectable</strike> disgusting food items such as two sausage and egg McMuffins, two hashbrowns and two orange juices (...or something), their fat, stubby fingers were too greasy to hold on to the stolen phone and it must have flown free from their grasp. Pathetic.<br />
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Phone safely returned, we made it home in five and a half hours with an easy, unremarkable drive. The weekend home was typical of quick weekends home--too many people to see and not enough time, but this was pretty successful. Got to go into the office, watch a movie with the family, and visit SF abandoners Will and Jace in their super-cute new LA apartment in which we watched hours of <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i> with a few cocktails (not Absolut...sorry, Ru). Sadly, didn't get to see much of my sister as she was too busy making her director cry while rehearsing her solo for her up-coming role in <i>Pizazz</i>. <br />
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The flight back was rather long for an LA to SF trip. If anyone is ever feeling particularly masochistic and wants to witness a cesspool of human stupidity and selfishness, just hop on down to your local airport and go through security. Good Christ. What is it about a metal detector that is so difficult to comprehend? If you're wearing metal, it <i>detects </i>it. This middle-aged woman with a frumpy neon green sweater and bleached, wet-looking hair failed a solid three times in a row before finally removing her bracelets, muttering to herself "Unbelievable, they didn't go off in LA."<br />
<br />
<i>This bitch</i>. So, you were aware of your K-Mart metallic accessories, and yet in spite of three botched attempts to walk those two steps through the security device, it didn't occur to you that perhaps you weren't going to get by like you allegedly did in LAX that one time?<br />
<br />
Then the line was held up because this poor woman, who has clearly been in a coma the last five-plus years and is only now traveling again, decided to bring an arsenal of Costco-sized bottles of hair and body products in her carry-on, which stopped the security conveyor belt in its tracks. She later also decided that, though she was told to enter from the rear of the plane given her rear seat assignment, she'd just go ahead and enter through the front so more people could get out of her and her mop's way.<br />
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Directions are tricky, aren't they?<br />
<br />
But, no matter, we are now officially car-free in San Francisco. And I am happy.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-48804121348108537962011-02-27T10:35:00.000-08:002011-02-27T10:35:10.369-08:00My Oscars<b style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction: </b>Reflecting on a great year of movies and wishing I had sole control over award shows.<br />
<b style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</b> Workshop critiques.<br />
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Since high school, I've been obsessed with the Academy Awards. I have always tried to see as many nominated movies as I can, to varying degrees of success throughout the years. Now that they've upped the Best Picture category to ten films, this is an even more serious endeavor. But, after several theater gift certificates, matinees, and general budget reallocating, I managed to see almost every film nominated for the big categories.<br />
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The Oscars had their chance. This is how the actual rankings should be according to me. If you haven't seen many of these movies, save yourself the trouble and prioritize via my list. I'm including five more slots than the Oscars give, just cause this year was that good. <br />
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*Denotes movies nominated for an Oscar<br />
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<div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Best Picture</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">1. <i>The Social Network</i>*<br />
2. <i>The King's Speech</i>*<br />
3. <i>127 Hours</i>*<br />
4. <i>Inception</i> *<br />
5. <i>Blue Valentine</i><br />
6. <i>Rabbit Hole</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">7. <i>Black Swan</i>*<br />
8. <i>The Kids Are All Right</i>*<br />
9. <i>The Fighter</i>*<br />
10. <i>Winter's Bone</i>*<br />
11. <i>Toy Story 3</i>*<br />
12. <i>Cyrus</i><br />
13. <i>Howl</i><br />
14. <i>Shutter Island</i><br />
15. <i>True Grit</i>*</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The top three are really interchangeable for me and all fantastic in different ways. <i>True Grit</i> barely makes the top 15 over <i>Easy A</i>, and while I saw <i>The Town</i>...I didn't think it was all that great. But even that had entertainment value. I can safely say I really enjoyed every film in my top 10. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Best Director</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">1. Danny Boyle, <i>127 Hours</i><br />
2. Christopher Nolan, <i>Inception</i><br />
3. David Fincher, <i>The Social Network*</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">4. Darren Aronofsky, <i>Black Swan</i>*<br />
5. Tom Hooper, <i>The King's Speech*</i><br />
6. John Cameron Mitchell, <i>Rabbit Hole</i><br />
7. Derek Cianfrance, <i>Blue Valentine</i><br />
8. David O. Russell, <i>The Fighter*</i><br />
9. Lisa Cholodenko, <i>The Kids Are All Right</i><br />
10. Debra Granik, <i>Winter's Bone</i><br />
-- Joel & Ethan Coen, <i>True Grit*</i><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">127 Hours </span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">was so masterfully put together that a movie that was about a man trapped in the same place and eventually has to cut his arm off wasn't either a bore or full of a distracting amount of anticipation. As for the beloved Coen brothers, sorry--your successful direction of a remake isn't enough to cut top 10. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Best Actor</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">1. James Franco, <i>127 Hours*</i><br />
2. Colin Firth, <i>The King's Speech*</i><br />
3. Ryan Gosling, <i>Blue Valentine</i><br />
4. Jesse Eisenberg, <i>The Social Network*</i><br />
5. Aaron Eckhart, <i>Rabbit Hole</i><br />
6. Leonardo DiCaprio, <i>Inception</i><br />
7. John C. Reily, <i>Cyrus</i><br />
8. Mark Wahlberg, <i>The Fighter</i><br />
9. Jeff Bridges, <i>True Grit*</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">10. James Franco, <i>Howl</i> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">--Javier Bardem, <i>Biutiful*</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I'm thrilled Colin Firth has been doing so well this awards season--he's a terrific actor and was perfect in <i>The King's Speech</i>. I just think Franco had the more challenging role, and his execution was just as strong. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see <i>Biutiful</i>. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Best Actress</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
1. Natalie Portman, <i>Black Swan*</i><br />
2. Nicole Kidman, <i>Rabbit Hole*</i><br />
3. Annette Bening, <i>The Kids Are All Right*</i><br />
4. Michelle Williams, <i>Blue Valentine*</i><br />
5. Jennifer Lawrence, <i>Winter's Bone*</i><br />
6. Hailee Steinfeld, <i>True Grit</i><br />
7. Julianne Moore, <i>The Kids Are All Right</i><br />
8. Marisa Tomei, <i>Cyrus</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">9. Rebecca Hall, <i>The Town</i><br />
10. Emma Stone, <i>Easy A</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Look at that--I'm in agreement with the Academy. The top three was a really tough pick--Portman had the most physically demanding role, Kidman the most emotionally demanding, and Bening is just so damn good in everything and her subtle work here was no exception. And, just to be clear, Hailee Steinfeld is listed here because she <i>was </i>a leading actress--she was in every damn scene of the movie. Through ridiculous campaigning that used her age and inexperience as manipulation tools, she was successfully awarded a slot in the Supporting Actress field. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Best Supporting Actor</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">1. Christian Bale, <i>The Fighter*</i><br />
2. Geoffrey Rush, <i>The King's Speech*</i><br />
3. Andrew Garfield, <i>The Social Network</i><br />
4. Miles Teller, <i>Rabbit Hole</i><br />
5. John Hawkes, <i>Winter's Bone*</i><br />
6. Mark Ruffalo, <i>The Kids Are All Right</i><br />
7. Matt Damon, <i>True Grit</i><br />
8. Ben Kingsley, <i>Shutter Island</i><br />
9. Jonah Hill, <i>Cyrus</i><br />
10. Jeremy Renner, <i>The Town*</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I get that Kidman is the case in which the Academy rewards a really talented ensemble by focusing on one actor, and while she deserves the praise, so do the rest of the cast. This young actor was heartbreaking in the role of the teenager who accidentally kills the four-year old boy. And don't even get me started on Jeremy Renner's one-note performance in <i>The Town </i>being nominated.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
<b>Best Supporting Actress</b><br />
1. Amy Adams, <i>The Fighter*</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">2. Melissa Leo, <i>The Fighter* </i><br />
3. Barbara Hershey, <i>Black Swan</i><br />
4. Dianne Wiest, <i>Rabbit Hole</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">5. Marion Cotillard, <i>Inception </i> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">6. Helena Bonham Carter, <i>The King's Speech*</i><br />
7. Mila Kunis, <i>Black Swan</i><br />
8. Dale Dickey, <i>Winter's Bone</i><br />
9. Patricia Clarkson, <i>Easy A</i><br />
10. Ellen Page, <i>Inception</i><br />
--Jacki Weaver, <i>Animal Kingdom*</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Animal Kingdom </span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">only arrived in my mail yesterday so, sadly, I didn't have time to screen it. <i>The Fighter </i>women really do stand above the rest here in what is probably, overall, the weakest category this year. The first four really are great, but after that the best adjective to describe the rest are "strong" and "effective." </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My dream is to one day have a vote in the Academy Awards. I feel my best bet is for my sister to get famous and become a member of the Academy, where she will no doubt hand her ballot straight over to me and I'll be the deciding vote in a certain leading lady trumping Katherine Hepburn's record four Oscar wins. Speaking of...<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Of course, the Oscars always bring back a particularly special memory for me. In 2002, Kevin and I were able to attend the Academy Award rehearsals courtesy of my mom. We were supposed to go to the actual award show, as well, but former President Bush (remember that troll?) decided to declare war and security was a nightmare. Anyway, after a rather ho-hum day, who do we spot taking flowers. None other than the backbone of American cinema: </span><b><u><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: 12pt;">MERYL STREEP</span></u></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She was the sweetest person ever, of course. I went up to her and got to tell her something very few people ever have: "<i>Death Becomes Her </i>is my absolute favorite movie!" She gave a heart laugh and hugged me, and took pictures with us. Unfortunately, it was during those awkward teen years, so I don't like to flash the picture, but looking now I'm confident Meryl's radiance overpowers braces. Yes/Yes? </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-43274929585466844432011-02-07T18:56:00.000-08:002011-02-12T16:44:16.897-08:00Stinson Beach Sunday<b><span style="background-color: white; color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Convertible modness.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Superbowl madness.</b><br />
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I think we just birthed a tradition. Superbowl Sunday is typically a bit of a black hole day, for me. Last year, I spent the day doing schoolwork; any other year I'm generally stuck at a party with otherwise good people who, for one day a year, devolve into patriotic lumps that can only bark one-syllable utterances (except, of course, when it comes to profanity), drink the cheapest of beers, and watch a sport so lame only America plays it (yay for generalizations!).<br />
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This year, though, a hero shown through the dark, muggy mist of the Superbowl to take back the day and make the most out of a truly gorgeous San Francisco Sunday. That man is my boyfriend. He reserved a red MINI Convertible for four hours, and after donning on appropriate clothes for the warm weather and--gasp--sunscreen of all things, we picked up our fabulous fruit flies, Karen and Lauren, and zipped through the city blasting our beloved pop divas.<br />
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Our destination: Stinson Beach.<br />
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Snacks and water bottles in tow, we made our way through a fog-free Golden Gate Bridge and up the windy roads to this most humble and quaint of beach towns (kudos to said heroic boyfriend for driving the whole way without so much as a slam on the brakes). We ate at the <a href="http://www.stinsonbeachrestaurant.com/">allegedly historic Sand Dollar</a>, lured by this promising sign:<br />
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As Karen said, "Done and dusted." Delicious and oily fried calamari were enjoyed by all, as well as our cocktails and seafood meals. We successfully annoyed the douches next to us, and capped off our splendid fun-in-the-sun with soft-serve ice cream cones. <b>A+</b>.<br />
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Far too important to actually set foot on the beach, we quickly made our way back to the city to return the car on time (ish). The car ride back was only a slightly more subdued version of the first leg of the trip, and though we spent more time in the car than on land, that's sort of the point of renting a convertible, now isn't it?<br />
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Yes, I will absolutely enjoy Superbowl Sunday infinitely more if it is consistently replaced with Stinson Beach Sunday.<br />
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<div style="color: #741b47; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you, San Francisco, for such a beautiful weekend. </span></i></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-28106340110780858612011-01-31T18:08:00.000-08:002011-01-31T18:08:51.914-08:00The cough, the couch and the clinic: My immune system in flashback<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction: </span>Checking for yellow phlegm. </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from: </span>Thank-you notes, taking out the trash. </b><br />
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I was shivering like it was 2002. Once upon a time, I was missing an antibody for sinus infections and had an abscessed left tonsil that turned any limp protest to my immune system into a full-fledged <span style="color: #cc0000;">W-A-R </span>on my body. From about eighth grade through high school, I would get really sick about 6-8 times a school year. Like, bed-ridden sick. People cried hypochondria, I just cried. One by one, the reasons were discovered, and I felt sweet, sweet redemption. And a functioning immune system. <br />
<br />
Well, this past week I came down with Type A Influenza. According to <a href="http://www.flufacts.com/know/what-is.jsp">FluFACTS</a>, this type of virus is commonly found in every barnyard animal in the world...and humans, too. Listed last. After the swine. <b>Ouch.</b> It is also the umbrella for things like H1N1 and the like, which I did not have (breathe easy, classmates...but do watch for symptoms. Kisses!). <br />
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Anyway, I made it to class--more or less--but otherwise missed plenty o' work (paid for that today and will continue to the rest of the week) and spent most of the time sitting on my couch wrapped in all the fabric I could find feeling like I was lying naked in Antarctica. Melodramatic enough for you? A 102.6 temperature will do that to a (whiny gay) man. Praise Roseanne for leftover Vicodin...and <i>Roseanne</i> itself. I marathoned the entire beloved sixth season. <br />
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For my money, <i>and this includes my future hundreds of millions in lottery winnings</i>, seasons four through seven of this show are some of the best in TV history, period. All hail!<br />
<br />
Anyway, after repeated doses of Roseanne, "Tylenol," and sleepless nights weren't doing the trick, I succumbed to going to the USF Health Clinic (part of the St. Mary's Medical Center) drop-in hours. To anyone else in such a desperate state: get there before 1 p.m. to sign up. I got there just a bit later, which was okay, but by 1:45 there was a line of sniffles and puffy faces that you do not want to be a part of. The doctor I saw was perfectly lovely and helpful, quickly identified my symptoms, and had medicine for me within two hours at the pharmacy closest to my house. <br />
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Tamiful has been a miracle worker. I am now actually ready for school and will return to class with appropriate vigor. Those of you who have me in class for the first time--last week ain't what I'm about. Just you wait.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglm-kM0cXoLleP2L6yNRKFi1l93LdV2ThDY4C-ZXak3jAyHV_DbHTJIOobcm5JYH71XbeU1rRp2MzRl9huLW_zaQxp9d0qDVzs9-3hSpyfArr9tHfDQgHnqGXshlbMBfTcktO2pRJTIdw/s1600/tumblr_lcvjf4va0q1qzjnc2o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglm-kM0cXoLleP2L6yNRKFi1l93LdV2ThDY4C-ZXak3jAyHV_DbHTJIOobcm5JYH71XbeU1rRp2MzRl9huLW_zaQxp9d0qDVzs9-3hSpyfArr9tHfDQgHnqGXshlbMBfTcktO2pRJTIdw/s320/tumblr_lcvjf4va0q1qzjnc2o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-66538054399054042372011-01-24T14:25:00.000-08:002011-01-24T14:25:35.476-08:00Everyone Loves a List, Pt. II<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Trying not to type too much about all the entertainment I've loved in the past year.</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Actually eating lunch on my lunch break. </b><br />
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More listing! More countdowns! More verbosity (...just go with it)! Below are my opinions on the best TV shows, songs, albums and novels of the past year (more or less). Again, my movie ranking is going to be a whole separate, spectacular ordeal in itself to coincide with Oscar nominations. Anyway, please be sure to familiarize yourself with everything listed here and I'm sure you'll see why each has earned their various spots on my list.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #990000;">T V S H O W S </span></span><br />
<b>1. <i>Weeds</i> -</b> Haters to the left. The writers of this show have abandoned formula and faux-fans in the name of one person: Nancy Botwin. They've chained themselves to her destructive hip, and the result is the most unpredictable and exciting television on right now. With a cast that's simply better than the rest--including the best actress on TV, Mary-Louise Parker--<i>Weeds</i> delivered once again and was as addicting as ever while providing their most intense and emotional finale to date. The next season is said to be the last. I'll be crying for days.<br />
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<b>2. <i>Modern Family</i> -</b> With the almost impossible task of following up a pitch-perfect first season, they found a way to pull it off--mostly by highlighting the hilarious Sofia Vergara.<br />
<b>3.</b> <i> </i><b><i>Damages</i> -</b> The smartest drama on TV, period. And Glenn Close gives gives Ms. Parker a run for her money week after week. It's moved to DirectTV due to lack of viewers on Fox, so...you should all be ashamed of yourselves.<br />
<b>4. <i>Dexter</i> -</b> Like <i>Modern Family</i>, <i>Dexter</i> had to find a way to beat an unbeatable season. It didn't, but it came as close as seemingly possible. GIVE JENNIFER CARPENTER AN EMMY ALREADY.<br />
<b>5. <i>The Amazing Race</i> -</b> I tend to get too emotionally invested in this show so that when the wrong team wins, it's my least favorite show of all time. But the beloved, smart, athletic, and kind-hearted doctors won out, so all was right in reality TV land. This is a reality TV show even people who hate reality TV shows would like. <br />
<b>6. <i>Nurse Jackie</i> -</b> All signs point to this becoming my <i>Weeds</i> replacement (which is not to say it's as good, but it'll do). Edie Falco is fabulous and pulls together a truly puzzling character into something watchable...95% of the time. Sometimes Jackie is too puzzling, and that may be the show's downfall depending on what they do next season...but for now, I'm hooked on the humor.<br />
<b>7. <i>The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills</i> -</b> SHUT UP. It's the most delicious reality TV out there right now, and Lisa's wealth and gloriousness alone could buy all the other franchises' housewives combined. Plus, Allison Dubois anyone? Pure evil.<br />
<b>8. <i>The Big C</i> -</b> Laura Linney anchored an uneven season, but the storage unit scene in the finale? Perfection. And heartbreaking. <br />
<b>9. <i>The Walking Dead</i> -</b> Six episodes is an easy way to cure a potential lack of storyline ideas, but every week I was compelled more than I expected (or even wanted) to be. We'll see what the future holds.<br />
<b>10. <i>United States of Tara</i> -</b> Not quite the energy or wit of Nurse Jackie, but more believable characters (...within the context of the premise) with a more emotional core.<br />
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...no, I have not seen <i>Mad Men</i>. Yes, I intend to. <br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">S O N G S </span><br />
<b>1. "Your Love's A Drug," Leighton Meester -</b> The summer smash you never heard. It's a silly #1, I suppose, but I haven't been able to stop listening to it since July. Fresher than "California Gurls," sexier than "Alejandro," and more fun than whatever paint-by-numbers, dance-song hit Ke$ha spat out, this is a contender to be my song-of-the-summer two years in a row.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Pv4san1xIi0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<b>2. "Rolling in the Deep," Adele -</b> Her tone is so captivating I could listen to just about anything she sings. But the song is fantastic all on its own, so...win.<br />
<b>3. "57821," Janelle Monae -</b> One of the many <strike>gems</strike> diamonds from her album, <i>The ArchAndroid</i>. Everything about this is perfection to me, and the only way it could be any better is if I listened to it with headphones and a joint.<br />
<b>4. "Man Down," Rihanna -</b> A stellar album track off her okay follow-up to <i>Rated R</i>, this is my official bad-mood song.<br />
<b>5. "I Am," Christina Aguilera -</b> Another album track off an even worse album, Christina somehow reigns in her over-the-top vocals into something vulnerable and lovely.<br />
<b>6. "Loca," Shakira - </b>Dance or die indeed.<br />
<b>7. "Telephone," Lady Gaga feat. Beyoncé</b><b> -</b> Controlled chaos at its finest. Not my initial favorite off the near-perfect <i>The Fame Monster</i>, but the most persistent fun a year-plus later.<br />
<b>8. "Soldier of Love," Sade -</b> Epic in its sound, Sade came back hard with a song that felt both current and classic Sade.<br />
<b>9. "Indestructible," Robyn -</b> Took me a while to get into her, but I eventually got sucked into the trance of her album, especially on this song.<br />
<b>10. "Tighten Up," The Black Keys -</b> Admittedly, this band is hit-or-miss for me, but this is a big hit.<br />
<i>Honorable mentions:</i> "Fuckin' Perfect," P!nk; "Commander," Kelly Rowland; "Weightless," Natasha Bedingfield; "Gone and Never Coming Back," Melanie Fiona; "Give a Little More," Maroon 5; "Don't You Wanna Stay," Jason Aldean feat. Kelly Clarkson (obviously).<br />
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These next two lists were originally looking a bit...anemic. Therefore, I've included albums and novels that were at least new to me in 2010 to give them a bit more weight.<br />
<div style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">A L B U M S</span><br />
<b>1. <i>The ArchAndroid</i>, Janelle Monae - </b>The most creative and diverse album I've ever heard. Now, I'm a tad musically ignorant, so take that as you will, but even so, this girl is from another planet--one where they have better music. It's required to listen from this from start to finish to get the whole effect, so...be sure to do that. <br />
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<b>2. <i>Sale el Sol</i>, Shakira</b> - Can't understand 95% of it, but there's undeniable energy throughout. Plus, Spanish Shakira > English Shakira.<br />
<b>3. <i>The Bridge</i>, Melanie Fiona - </b>Actually from 2009...and I guess I technically discovered her in 2011, but this is my blog and she deserves a spot for such a great R&B album full of jams, particularly "Give It To Me Right."<br />
<b>4. <i>Greatest Hits...So Far!</i>, P!nk - </b>It's a decade of P!nk classics. 'Nuff said.<br />
<b>5. <i>Battle Studies</i>, John Mayer</b> <b>-</b> Again, didn't actually buy this until 2010. Not as fantastic as <i>Continuum</i>, but not a dud on the CD.<br />
<b>6. <i>Try This</i>, P!nk -</b> I was in a P!nk mood this year, big time. So I gave her maligned <i>Try This </i>a try and was pleasantly surprised. It's great. Some weaker tracks, to be sure, but "Waiting for Love" is one of her best songs ever.<br />
<b>7. <i>Body Talk,</i> Robyn -</b> The two exceedingly repetitive songs drag this down a few notches, but otherwise, call me a convert.<br />
<b>8. <i> Soldier of Love</i>, Sade -</b> Sadly, nothing as immediately impacting as the title track exists, but the rest of the CD is undeniably lovely and solid.<br />
<b>9. <i>Kaleidoscope Heart</i>, Sara Bareilles -</b> She didn't get a "Love Song"-type hit this time around, but the CD is mostly pleasant and fresh from start to finish.<br />
<b>10. <i>Hands All Over</i>, Maroon 5 - </b>Not gonna lie, it's not all great. But some of the songs are great, and that's enough to garner a final spot in the top 10 when nothing else was in the running. <br />
<div style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">B O O K S </span><br />
<b>1. <i>The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox</i>, Maggie O'Farrell -</b> Offers mystery, multiple character points of view, and so many layers of human anguish that it's one of the most thrilling literary reads I've experienced in a while. Inspiring. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.betterworldbooks.com/015/The-Vanishing-Act-of-Esme-Lennox-9780156033671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://images.betterworldbooks.com/015/The-Vanishing-Act-of-Esme-Lennox-9780156033671.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<b>2. <i>A Home at the End of the World</i>, Michael Cunningham - </b>Another masterful approach to multiple points of view, this chronicles the growth of two very different boys in love with each other in different ways, and is a rich reading experience from beginning to end. <br />
<b>3. <i>Cat's Eye</i>, Margaret Atwood - </b>I was ready to put this at my #1 until Brian called something out about the ending that doesn't sit well with me, but otherwise the writing is astoundingly good, and so is the story. In my fantasy, I use this quote to open my novel-in-progress:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdY3GKyWpwpF0W4kwmZRh2JRSqViUdfZlK0E7pyzJYmLl6mRUo48TM5cbrGO9ekaaxUVwU0yq1hOw-kKpgF00Bxn8HTL6-K5aU9qT8dQ_cleT3wwUPxpGWUC1wHVABY-2lEgXJNsl8SQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-01-24+at+1.58.05+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="71" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdY3GKyWpwpF0W4kwmZRh2JRSqViUdfZlK0E7pyzJYmLl6mRUo48TM5cbrGO9ekaaxUVwU0yq1hOw-kKpgF00Bxn8HTL6-K5aU9qT8dQ_cleT3wwUPxpGWUC1wHVABY-2lEgXJNsl8SQ/s320/Screen+shot+2011-01-24+at+1.58.05+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><b>4. <i>Another Country</i>, James Baldwin -</b> Feels relevant and provocative today, and it was published in 1962 by a gay African American. The writing is charged, dense, and always captivating. <br />
<b>5. <i>The Days of Abandonment</i>, Elena Ferrante - </b>This novel forces the readers to follow the downward spiral and mental collapse of the protagonist--like a more successful and engaging <i>The Bell Jar</i>. Yes, I said it. Sorry, Sylvia. <br />
<b>6. <i>Ordinary People</i>, Judith Guest - </b>How do you make a novel about a tragedy readable and enjoyable? Ask her. <br />
<b>7. <i>The World of Normal Boys</i>, K.M. Soehnlein -</b> Written by a former professor of mine at USF, this was a particularly great read for me because I couldn't help but wish someone had given it to me when I was 13. <br />
<b>8. <i>The Epicure's Lament</i>, Kate Christensen -</b> I can only imagine how much fun it was to write this. The narrator and main character is a man who refuses to give up smoking even though it is actively killing him--he would rather kill himself than live without cigarettes. A fabulous and hysterical anti-hero. <br />
<b>9. <i>Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned</i>, Wells Tower -</b> Okay, so, I haven't read the entire short story collection, which is really the only reason it's so low on the list, because what I've had read has been fabulous. A strong and diverse voice fully colors each story. Can't wait to read it all. <br />
<b>10. <i>Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary</i>, David Sedaris -</b> Again, not a collection I've read to completion, but deserves a shout-out because I saw him read this live back when it hadn't even been published yet and he was still taking notes as he was reading. Laughed so hard tears came to my eyes. He was wonderful (thanks for bringing me, Elliot!). <br />
<br />
Now to shovel some food in my mouth and get back to work.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-25179488051400423652011-01-22T01:23:00.000-08:002011-01-22T01:28:16.316-08:00Everyone Loves a List, Pt. I<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction:</span> Obsessive list-making and worrying over forgotten items</b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from:</span> Looking up movie times for tonight, keeping boyfriend company while he cooks</b><br />
<br />
I thought of doing a 2010 review for my first blog post, but I felt like the whole "looking backward as I move forward" contradiction would create some sort of bad blog karma. And with only two followers, who needs that? (Feel necessary pity and shame here.)<br />
<br />
I spent the day compiling these various "Top 10 in 2010" lists, which provided lovely mini-distractions on a particularly grizzly Friday. Undoubtedly you must expect movies to be the first thing I list, but no--that list will come later when I post my tame and reserved Oscar opinions (just a few more films to see first). Also to no one's surprise, I can't help but write too much about everything, so this post will be split in two--starting with the more personal lists. <br />
<br />
Here we go, y'all. My Top 10 in 2010, Part One:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">Y E A R H I G H L I G H T S </span><br />
<b>1. Family vacation to Montana -</b> A truly necessary respite from the city to Big Sky country. Gorgeous scenery coupled with the always splendid and loving McKay family all wrapped up at the cabin? Unbeatable. Throw the Sip-n-Dip and "Say My Name" and "No Scrubs" karaoke and we've got a contender for highlight of the decade.<br />
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<b>2. Publication in the Saints + Sinners 2010 Literary Festival Anthology -</b> My short story, "Dancing Pink Roses," won runner-up in this inaugural LGBT fiction contest. The winner? A former Pulitzer Prize nominee. Cool stuff. Even cooler? It's available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saints-Sinners-2010-Fiction-Festival/dp/1608640353">Amazon</a>! Even cooler? I got a positive shout-out in a review (and it isn't from my grandmother).<br />
<b>3. Move to a new apartment -</b> Light. Space. New furniture. Close to school. Across the street from Lucky's. It's fantastic, and all credit goes to mi amor for shoving me out of my cave.<br />
<b>4. My mom gets elected to a community college board -</b> Years of service and carrying the school district on her shoulders pays off with a well-deserved win after so much hard work on a truly positive campaign. Community colleges in her district ought to be thanking their lucky stars.<br />
<b>5. Sister Carly performs...a lot -</b> A voice that won't be ignored any longer, she <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wk_7Vzos8YM">sang the national anthem</a> for her UCLA graduation, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmspjleCEyI">performed in front of Richard Carpenter</a> at a scholarship competition, and sang and danced at the El Capitan Theater for Disney's Tangled preshow. 2011 is already bringing more performance slots, so it's only a matter of time...<br />
<b>6. I switch to long fiction -</b> And...it was the best choice ever.<br />
<b>7. Nikki and Tasha <strike>visit</strike> take over San Francisco -</b> They planned to stay for a few days. They stayed for two weeks. It was monumental fun.<br />
<b>8. Tracy and Jess come to play in the city -</b> A balcony dinner at Cheesecake Factory provided a lovely view and lots of laughs...but not as many as later than night while playing the most ridiculous game ever: <strike>Queef</strike> Quelf.<br />
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<b>9. Major Project 1 -</b> Where writing <i>Muscle Memory </i>turned from school assignment to something that made me happy and eager to write more.<br />
<b>10. I got a new laptop -</b> I just love it. That's all.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">E V E N T S </span><br />
<b>1. Grandma's 75th birthday party -</b> The whole family got together for a karaoke party to end all karaoke parties. Everyone sang. Everyone danced. Everyone drank. Everyone hopes Grandma loses the video footage.<br />
<b>2. Fab4 Reunion - </b>Just before the year ended, the Fab4 (plus beloved additions Alejo and Jess) got together for a delightfully disappointing dinner at The Melting Pot (being mean is just more fun than truly enjoying yourself) followed by a nostalgic drinking fest in the den that birthed the best drinking game of the year. Music Catch Phrase and strip poker followed, and we all made it through without vomiting. A+.<br />
<blockquote style="color: purple; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Drinking Game: The Dinner Party</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Drink when any of the following occurs:</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Camille mentions her pizza oven<br />
A flashback to New York<br />
Anyone says the name "Allison"<br />
Allison makes a bitchy face</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><i> </i> </div><b>3. Mom's 50th birthday party -</b> A perfect combination of family and friends proved just how young 50 is these days.<br />
<b>4. Halloween party at Lauren's -</b> Fantastic costumes (well, except one...), dancing the night away, and Angie and Andy even came down! Which proved necessary. Karen and I unknowingly called upon the spirit of Ethel Rosenberg, and now any one of us and our circle of friends are subject to being pushed down stairs or tripped without notice. Walk carefully, all. We apologize in advance.<br />
<b>5. Gay pride parade -</b> My first, and it did a number on me. Fortunately, an ill-advised treat furthered the fun and saved me from certain hangover hell. See you there next year!<br />
<b>6. Booze sailboat for Kyle's birthday -</b> New friend Kyle brought a gaggle of glorious Canadians to the city for a weekend of drinking for his birthday, culminating in a fantastic sailboat under the Golden Gate Bridge at sunset.<br />
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<b>7. Housewarming party - </b>With our apartment decorated just in time and a table full of various alcoholic concoctions, the evening was set for perfection. But our neighbor, a full-grown troll with Asian decals on his door, threw a fit and called the cops. Still, it was a great night and we brought our energy to the Castro.<br />
<b>8. Switchback reading -</b> "Dancing Pink Roses" was also <a href="http://www.swback.com/issues/012/dancing-pink-roses/1.html">published</a> in the 12th issue of <i>Switchback</i>, and it was a great reading, highlighted by Brian's crowd-pleasing story, "Tuesday Anonymous."<br />
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<b>9. Brunch at Lime -</b> In the infamous words of Beyoncé, this was a disastuh. But in all the right ways. I lost a jacket, got kicked out of a bar, and had to miss work the next day. Can't wait to go back.<br />
<b>10. Adrienne's going away party at the Schmidt's -</b> This would be higher if it weren't so damn sad. Some of the best barbecue I've ever had coupled with infamous French martinis wasn't enough to take the sting out of Adrienne moving to Washington D.C., but it was an appropriately intimate and delicious send-off.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned for my top 10 TV shows, songs, albums, books, and--eventually--movies of 2010.Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5183924446844537494.post-13190361071853927142011-01-19T19:36:00.000-08:002011-01-20T09:46:32.611-08:00The First.<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Mode of distraction: <span style="color: black;">starting this very blog</span> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Distracting me from: </span>eating dinner, my 40th page of new work on <i>Muscle Memory </i></b><br />
<br />
I had yet to really consider a blog until last night when I took pictures for my dear friend and confidant, Karen, to use on her own elegant, eclectic <a href="http://conceptualreception.blogspot.com/">blog</a> while the two of us were on a fabulous first* date. Basically, the seed to this blog was jealousy. Her blog is so cool and I love reading it. It seemed like such a lovely distraction for both Karen and followers. And so on.<br />
<br />
Seeing as it's a new year, new blog, new post, etc., I'll start in an cliched, basic, and long-winded way, appropriate considering how template-y my blog is to begin with (and I do mean "begin with"...stay tuned for a more imaginative spread): highlights and lowlights to the beginning of 2011.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Highlights</i><br />
<ul><li>Brought in the New Year on a roof with fireworks and some of my favorite friends.</li>
<li>Cousin Jenn and her husband Anthony visit for Jenn's first club experience, gay or otherwise. Tremendous fun, complete with a British accent (the kind you can only find in the heart of France). </li>
<li>Two great dates: the aforementioned with Karen, and one with mi amor that included a great movie (<i>The King's Speech</i>) and great sushi. </li>
<li>Received a <span style="font-size: xx-small;">fair-but-compromised</span> raise.</li>
<li>New bedding that includes Hotel Collection sheets and a heated mattress pad (if you don't own one and live in the city, invest in one immediately).</li>
</ul><i>Lowlights</i><br />
<ul><li>The trials and tribulations that come with re-re-re-re-re-starting a workout program.</li>
<li><i> </i>Missing my opportunity to see Roseanne read from her <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1439154821/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_1?pf_rd_p=486539851&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-1&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B003V1WSTQ&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=154T5RE3432FC14429V8">new book</a> because...I was hungover in bed all day. </li>
<li>Becoming obsessed with Avril Lavigne's seriously bratty new single, "What the Hell." </li>
<li>Struggling to reach my bare minimum reading and writing goals I set for myself for my six-week winter break. </li>
</ul><br />
All in all, a slightly sluggish but not disheartening start to the year. Really, what is one to expect with a number like 2011? Though, I will turn 25 this year, and for some reason that number has always seemed significant to me (and not just because Kevin and I can finally call each other and yell "25--fuck I'm old!" <style>
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</style> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;">à</span> la <i>Sex and the City</i> with actual legitimacy). I will also presumably have a completed thesis (i.e., starting place to my novel) and an M.F.A. by the end of the year. It has yet to be seen where starting this blog will fall, but I hope it becomes a delightful distraction for me and anyone else in need of one. <br />
<br />
Cannot think of a graceful way to end, so...<br />
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*Hard to believe it was really our first solo date. We went with the classic: a movie (the devastating and brilliantly acted <i>Rabbit Hole</i>) and our respective go-to cocktails: dirty martini for her, mojito for me. It was her idea to eat at the Hyatt bar, and it did not disappoint:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6pF-5l2R8rPv0qisXHDCcjxY2BAbxu22A_0nPbQs3IgrhHG-GTU59jsBzxFdsiAM61XBSPHnp-19xC6BBDjlp58Sfoq_XlDCU770whKG7uXluDIjxZ9cTT1PdpJCKZy_mbC8qMW8oipc/s1600/-1a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6pF-5l2R8rPv0qisXHDCcjxY2BAbxu22A_0nPbQs3IgrhHG-GTU59jsBzxFdsiAM61XBSPHnp-19xC6BBDjlp58Sfoq_XlDCU770whKG7uXluDIjxZ9cTT1PdpJCKZy_mbC8qMW8oipc/s320/-1a.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Dannyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13293837673580409732noreply@blogger.com2