Happy Monday! Yeah, I know, it's an oxymoron, but as it is my day off, just humor me. After another crazy busy weekend at work, hosting hordes of craft beer seekers and drinkers, it's kinda nice to just sit at my kitchen table and dump my brain onto the page to amuse all 40 of you readers. So, here are some trivial observations over the past week (or maybe 2 weeks--the days have all run into another at this point.):
One of my co-workers pointed out to me this week that when asked a question, I number my responses. Well, yeah, I do. And here's why:
1.) I like to completely justify, verify, clarify or any other "-fy" my answers.
2.) As quirky as I am, and Squirrel, I am logic based and typically, there are at least 2 reasons/answers to a presented question.
3.) Due to the quirk and the squirrel, I tend to digress and get lost in some new point and forget the original question. The numbering of my responses at least attempts to keep me on track.
However, more interestingly, after working with me for almost 2 straight weeks, guess who started to number his responses? Yeah, I'm such a damn trend setter and well, c'mon I am just that cool (read sarcasm font here.)
Also, when it comes to language, specifically dialects and accents, I'm a damn sponge. But along the way, I have also picked up other's phrases. Well, one of my other co-workers picked up one of my frequently used phrases this week....and for some of you out there, no, it was not "Fuck My Life." which is a favorite amongst the JHC library. No, it's "Great Googily Moogily!" Yep, benign, even "G" rated (see I can actually say something without using 'Fuck.')
It's been stated that imitation is a form of flattery, eh, maybe. I see it as more of a gelling of personalities and the creation of inside jokes, which isn't that just a part of solidifying a bond?! Whether co-worker, friendship, relationship or any other moment when humans bond, we tend to adopt other's gestures, phrases, tastes, etc. And simply, I think we find something that we like and we take it and incorporate it into our lives. Several examples:
1.) Shit to My Ass: a former co-worker and adorable good friend said this. After working & hanging out with him for years, I adopted it & it morphed into "Shite to me arse." Yep, I still say it--16 years later.
2.) Holy Hannah: A former riding student and friend got me saying this one. Part of why I think I picked it up was the fact that my "G" & "PG" rated phrases were lacking--they still are.
3.)Water: Who knew such a basic word could cause such an up roar? When I was a freshman at PSU, my accent was ripped apart--mainly for the word "water." Yeah, being from the Philly area, I grew up calling it 'wooder.' I adopted the more mainstream version and say 'water' now and have for 20 years. Funny side note though (here's my squirrel moment): the same co-worker who has had so much fun calling to attention my numbering of thoughts, is from Philly as well, which I knew immediately due to his pronunciation of 'wooder.' So go ahead, friend, and make fun of my numbering of answers, as I will call out each and every moment of 'wooder.'..and each time you number your answers.
Enjoy the week, kids! Drink well, love well, and smile.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
IPA, Diet Coke, Oreo's and Marlboro Lights
So, well, I've been a little busy. Part of that voluntary, part involuntary, but happy all the same. I've been reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's letters, which I downloaded through my Kindle (yeah, I sold out...only because it was a kick ass gift, but I'm so addicted to the instant literature gratification) and there's a part of me that has fallen more in love with him and then there's the part that wants to smack him in the head and tell him that Zelda was the biggest mistake in his life. There are people who say that it was alcohol that ruined him and I call "Bullshit." Yeah, he was an alcoholic, so what?! So are/were many a great author, including Hemingway (ahem) and somehow it's just not the same issue. What I really take issue with is way the compilation is put together. We all know that Scott liked his drink, but this piece really highlights not only his own insecurity about other's opinions about his habits, but goes to great lengths in which to let the average reader understand through carefully placed letters that Scott was an alcoholic. Well, he was. Who gives a shit?! He wrote some of the most outstanding, innovative and beautiful prose to ever grace a page, much less a novel. Go ahead, argue with me about that one...
Point being, after reading this "book" and feeling bitter towards its author for basically lambasting Fitzgerald for his ways, though not his choice in women (stupid, stupid boy!) and then dealing with the entire Joe Paterno scandal, quite frankly, as always, I'm fed up with labels.
Paterno did more for PSU as an academic institution and as an NCAA coach than any other individual that I've read about, met, or heard of. Yeah, COULD he have done more--fucking of course. But, lest we forget that he was also of a much different generation where this heinous shit just didn't happen (in his world) and I truly believe that the man just could not wrap his brain around the accusations that were brought to him. And yeah, I have to take a minute and chat about that...everything that was told to him was hearsay. And really, Sandusky (though I think that he's guilty) is still going through legal proceedings and these are still technically allegations.
I guess my point, and I do have many right now, is that there are grey areas and that we are all humans--good and bad and that the space between is not always pretty, romantic and cinematic or even beautifully written, but real-simply real. Grotesque, heinous, beautiful or some one else's fantasy...but real and grey, not black and white and we all influence someone else--the scale is just contextual.
Life is not this meadow of untouched wildflowers or night skies full of stars that hold our dreams, but it is simply life--good,bad, indifferent, grey. What makes it beautiful (yeah, that's a beautiful piece of prose) are the authors, musicians, artists, friends, moments, and people whom we fall in love with, rationally or irrationally, and give or take a piece of ourselves in which to smile, cry or hurt or laugh and remember that we are only here for but a brief time. It is all of this that makes Life tolerable, liveable, and worth each and every moment on this planet and in our existence. And Joe Paterno and F. Scott Fitzgerald have made my life better. Period.
I don't mean to take anything away from the fact that Scott was a drunk or that Zelda was severely mentally depressed and dealt with other challenges. Nor, by any means, do I take anything away from the victims of the Sandusky scandal--if all allegations are true, than may the victims somehow find peace and normalcy in their lives of which was robbed from them by a truly evil and sick man. But really, this is a tribute to 2 men who have given more to me than they would've ever known and for that I am grateful and well, protective of their legacies. Everytime I attempt to craft a short story or keep chipping away at my novel, it's Fitzgerald that comes to mind--his beautiful prose and complete, yet sparse details of moments and characters. Paterno represents a piece of PSU that is so near and dear to me (yeah, that school means more to me than some people do..deal with it)-- his leadership with the football program, no bullshit ways with reporters, continual support (financial and otherwise) support of PSU and general overall love for ALL of its students, the campus and its legacy ( in other words right now, fuck the Board of Trustees--yes, they're assholes.) all inspired me to drive up to State College for his viewing, just to say "Thanks Joe." And yes, I cried when I walked passed the casket.
I used to see Joe every Mon, Wed, Fri on the way to one of my classes and invariably I was late (shocking!) and we would pass each other around the Lion Shrine (I really let out a good sob there while up for the viewing...I also gave the Lion a great beer when I was there) and I would wave and he'd say "hey" or "good morning" or "late again"...I was a 27 yo continuing ed student, not a football player, not a member of Greek life, not a possible big donor, just Jenn with my coffee, cigarette and cell phone and just trying to get to class... and Joe gave a shit. That's why I love Joe Paterno and that's why my heart broke in November and that's why I drove up to PSU and back in one day to say 'thanks.' He was a great man who became the media scape goat and while I don't excuse his inactions, I will never forget and will always be grateful for his progressive actions with my school.
I don't know...maybe because it's February (my least favorite month), maybe because I'm turning 38, maybe it's because I'm fucking happy with myself and my little life, but I take this shit seriously and like to say "thanks"...yes, even to dead people--they deserve it. But, I guess more importantly, always look at those grey areas and always be open to the fact that it's ok that you can love the not so perfect people and they have the ability to greatly influence you--I'm a better person for doing so.
Point being, after reading this "book" and feeling bitter towards its author for basically lambasting Fitzgerald for his ways, though not his choice in women (stupid, stupid boy!) and then dealing with the entire Joe Paterno scandal, quite frankly, as always, I'm fed up with labels.
Paterno did more for PSU as an academic institution and as an NCAA coach than any other individual that I've read about, met, or heard of. Yeah, COULD he have done more--fucking of course. But, lest we forget that he was also of a much different generation where this heinous shit just didn't happen (in his world) and I truly believe that the man just could not wrap his brain around the accusations that were brought to him. And yeah, I have to take a minute and chat about that...everything that was told to him was hearsay. And really, Sandusky (though I think that he's guilty) is still going through legal proceedings and these are still technically allegations.
I guess my point, and I do have many right now, is that there are grey areas and that we are all humans--good and bad and that the space between is not always pretty, romantic and cinematic or even beautifully written, but real-simply real. Grotesque, heinous, beautiful or some one else's fantasy...but real and grey, not black and white and we all influence someone else--the scale is just contextual.
Life is not this meadow of untouched wildflowers or night skies full of stars that hold our dreams, but it is simply life--good,bad, indifferent, grey. What makes it beautiful (yeah, that's a beautiful piece of prose) are the authors, musicians, artists, friends, moments, and people whom we fall in love with, rationally or irrationally, and give or take a piece of ourselves in which to smile, cry or hurt or laugh and remember that we are only here for but a brief time. It is all of this that makes Life tolerable, liveable, and worth each and every moment on this planet and in our existence. And Joe Paterno and F. Scott Fitzgerald have made my life better. Period.
I don't mean to take anything away from the fact that Scott was a drunk or that Zelda was severely mentally depressed and dealt with other challenges. Nor, by any means, do I take anything away from the victims of the Sandusky scandal--if all allegations are true, than may the victims somehow find peace and normalcy in their lives of which was robbed from them by a truly evil and sick man. But really, this is a tribute to 2 men who have given more to me than they would've ever known and for that I am grateful and well, protective of their legacies. Everytime I attempt to craft a short story or keep chipping away at my novel, it's Fitzgerald that comes to mind--his beautiful prose and complete, yet sparse details of moments and characters. Paterno represents a piece of PSU that is so near and dear to me (yeah, that school means more to me than some people do..deal with it)-- his leadership with the football program, no bullshit ways with reporters, continual support (financial and otherwise) support of PSU and general overall love for ALL of its students, the campus and its legacy ( in other words right now, fuck the Board of Trustees--yes, they're assholes.) all inspired me to drive up to State College for his viewing, just to say "Thanks Joe." And yes, I cried when I walked passed the casket.
I used to see Joe every Mon, Wed, Fri on the way to one of my classes and invariably I was late (shocking!) and we would pass each other around the Lion Shrine (I really let out a good sob there while up for the viewing...I also gave the Lion a great beer when I was there) and I would wave and he'd say "hey" or "good morning" or "late again"...I was a 27 yo continuing ed student, not a football player, not a member of Greek life, not a possible big donor, just Jenn with my coffee, cigarette and cell phone and just trying to get to class... and Joe gave a shit. That's why I love Joe Paterno and that's why my heart broke in November and that's why I drove up to PSU and back in one day to say 'thanks.' He was a great man who became the media scape goat and while I don't excuse his inactions, I will never forget and will always be grateful for his progressive actions with my school.
I don't know...maybe because it's February (my least favorite month), maybe because I'm turning 38, maybe it's because I'm fucking happy with myself and my little life, but I take this shit seriously and like to say "thanks"...yes, even to dead people--they deserve it. But, I guess more importantly, always look at those grey areas and always be open to the fact that it's ok that you can love the not so perfect people and they have the ability to greatly influence you--I'm a better person for doing so.
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