Things

Things that annoy me:

1) A company that's too cheap to buy new sponges for the sink, so your only option is to use your hands or mildewy, 4-year-old sponges.

2) Contagious death-plague viruses. Especially when you give them to your boyfriend, so he gets to spend the evening gray-faced, sweaty, delirious, and crawling between the toilet and his bed.

3) People who forget that the workplace has boundaries. And that jokes about vibrators should probably NOT be directed at the only girl in the office that day.

4) People who can't. Throw. Anything. Out. Ever. So you get stuck sifting through boxes and boxes (and digital files) of old papers that bear no relevance whatsoever to the present.

5) Snow storms that keep threatening to come, then wimping out and spitting like 3 snowflakes on DC.

6) Sales calls. Doing them, not receiving them. They are awful.

Things that make me happy:

1) Being the only one at work and blasting Great Big Sea, the Battlestar Galactica soundtrack and Julie Fowlis to my heart's content.

2) Getting in early so I can leave early, and blogging during my lunch hour.

3) One-year anniversaries (tomorrow!).

4) Shepherd's Pie, green bean casserole, and chocolate chip cookies--all homemade!

5) Bagels and free coffee.

6) The XKCD comic that is taped to my broken laptop screen, ending with a "FUCK. THAT. SHIT." and reminding me that life is more than some people make of it. I wish I could remember the number of it, because it's brilliant.

A quick comment on an article I read this morning...

First of all: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/01/03/AR2011010302175.html I know it's a lot to read through, but it's worth it if you're into masochism, because especially if you're an American, this article WILL make you hurt. If you've taken ANY courses in international development, this article will make you feel ill. The many layers of misunderstanding are apparent here. First, there's a reason why these changes are called "long term"--and you really can't just plop things into someone else's hands and run away with no oversight. Minimal oversight, maybe? But not this.

Second, water parks?? Dance halls? Has ANYONE working for these people taken a class in cross-cultural communication? Certain social codes and norms are present in Islamic countries, and while you may be trying to "democratize" the country, at least respect the existing value systems. To quote, '"We don't allow dancing and singing outside," said Hassan Alizerjawee, a Sadr City elder who lives across the street from the proposed site.' Why didn't we invest those $250,000 in taxpayer dollars in measures that preserved what was already there (whatever was left to save) or at least spending another $50,000 to make sure militias didn't bomb the shit out of everything?

Another quote: ""We did run a danger of looking like Nero playing the fiddle while Rome burned." from Lt. Col. Yates, whose men worked on the water park in Baghdad.

Ugh....

2010

I know that people usually end the year with a "Whew, so happy that's over," or a "God, I hope next year sucks a lot less," but I gotta say, I'm going to miss you, 2010.

If I think about where I was at this time a year ago (pining over a selfish ex who was so not worth the emotion, panicking about my upcoming Capstone, booking a train ticket to Boston to visit a friend because I was lonely and miserable, watching my bank account dwindle from said ticket, hating my job), compared to where I am now, 2010 has carried me a long way. My university let me graduate, wonder of wonders, magna cum laude, even! I have my own lease on a wonderful apartment, a beautifully crazy roommate with an equally crazy cat, a steady job (actual opinions about it aside, it pays OK), a crappy GRE score behind me and a better one to come (let's hope), and a fantastic, loving, amazing boyfriend (gush gush gush) that I've managed to hang onto for almost a year. Not to mention the ever-present backdrop of family (in Arizona) and friend who keep me anchored to the ground.

In short...in spite of the amount of bitching I do, life is good. Blessed, even. I have no clue what next year is going to blow in my direction, but I look forward to finding out.

With apologies to any singers, violinists, or fundamentalist Christians (though not really to you) out there

Warning: I am guilty of BUI (blogging under the influence) here, and I'm sure that if anyone actually bothers to read this, they will either be extraordinarily pissed off or think I am a blathering moron. Or both.

When I was in middle school (Hail, Tamanend, with your flag of blue and gold), music basically ate up my life. I had been playing piano since the age of 8, so by the time I was in 7th grade, I basically thought I was a prodigy (NB: I was not) based on the way people (read: everyone who was new to this stuff) treated me. We had two big Christmas concerts each year, and by the time 9th grade rolled around, I was in every single act on stage (except for 8th grade band), and I spent those evenings running back and forth from the bleachers to the stage to the piano--I believe my parents deemed one concert "The *insert my name here* Show."

Which wasn't true, of course, but it may have had something to do with why many of my peers hated me. Or it could have something to do with the fact that I was a stuck-up prig with a stick up her ass who was delusional about her own talent. But whatever. When you play the piano, the violin, eventually the viola, and you have a deep, manly, on-pitch voice that can carry the entire 8th grade alto section, public school music teachers are going to capture you, use you, and eventually suck the life blood out of you. That's just how it goes.

So when high school came, I didn't know what else to do with myself. I joined the choir, I bellowed in the alto section, and I accompanied on piano. Mr. T, my first choir teacher, was wise enough to not let me into the select ensembles, but when I switched schools, Cynthia, hellfire demon though she turned out to be, did let me in. Eventually, I was accompanying the choir on piano, I was the Alto II section leader, and I became the choir president. My best friends were all in choir, I was in District Choir, I was in Regional Choir (2 spots away from All-State!), my boyfriend was the lead Tenor I...I basically lived and breathed singing.

And when you've been so absolutely marinated in choir Kool-Aid for 5 years of your life, it's a rude awakening when you realize something...that you fucking. hate. choir. It's occurred to me that the only teachers I have ever truly disliked were my choir teachers--Lisbeth and Cynthia, to not use last names. I shared a mutual loathing with both of them by the time I graduated from my respective middle school and high school, and to this day, I have not forgiven either one of them for what they did to me or to my peers (though, at the age of 22, I should probably let it go).

So...I ask myself why...why is it, that when I attend a Christmas concert with the Washington Choral Society, I delight in hopping up for the singalong songs, I tap my feet, I sway back and forth, I love the whole atmosphere, and I love to sing?

I have come to two conclusions. 1) Choirs are fraught...FRAUGHT...with massive egos. The director, yes, that's a given, but also the singers. Especially the soprano section. Music is produced by people, and people (read: musicians) like to think that they're awesome and important, and for some reason, singers (read: sopranos) are the absolute worst of the lot. This is not as much of a problem with other groups. The orchestras I've joined have always been much calmer and less cutthroat--though, as a member of the viola section, I guess that's only fitting. Violins can be pretty awful, too. It's just something about singers. They (read: SOPRANOS) like to compete and out-wail one another, and it's just really annoying. The road to good music is not paved with egos.

2) To me, organized singing is much like organized religion. Just because you like to sing doesn't mean you need to join a choir. Just because you love God doesn't mean you need to join a church. Both environments tend to devolve into pissing contests where youeither sing better/love God more than the next person. And you're going to sing/shout Hallelujahs to prove it, dammit. Interesting parallel, actually, as I'm rather embittered towards the folks at Covenant Presbyterian Church in Mechanicsville, PA (did that show up on Google? Should I type it again?) for many of the same reasons that I'm embittered towards choir. (Not all Christian churches fall under this criticism. Just the ones who peddle a "loving" Jesus but think that homosexuality is abnormal and actively try to suppress it within themselves and other people, who think people who have sex before marriage are evil and who believe that non-Christians are going to Hell and who go on missions trips to convert the heathens, however passive aggressive they might be about any of these things).

So. That all being said....I thought about auditioning for the choral society. Frankly, though, I don't think I can handle it.

Civil War statues tours if I could write them my way:

Although most historical records suggest that Meade was, in fact, a bit of a priggish asshat, he did win the Battle of Gettysburg. The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, forever laboring under the delusion that it is more awesome than it really is, decided that DC needed a big, stupid statue of Meade. So they handed over money that could have been spent feeding the poor to hire someone to carve a statue. But nothing happened for 12 years because the people running our country are also priggish asshats who don't like to actually do anything.

Eventually they hired someone, who carved a big stupid statue of Meade. Flanking Meade are lots of statues reflecting arbitrary qualities he probably didn't have. Behind Meade is a statue of War with an indescribably huge and phallic sword. It seems that the sculptor was suggesting that Meade's skill in battle was really just compensation for something else. The statue has been moved three times because it is big and stupid.

Pitch black and sunrises

I'm blogging at 7:20 AM, against the backdrop of a glorious sunrise...which is wonderful and everything, but really, I would have preferred not to have seen it. The sunrise is one of those things that, unless you have intentions of watching it, is not terribly welcoming. It's more like having a rather irritating bluebird chirping in your ear. But, another night of coughing, another night of (4 hours of) sleeping on the couch, a colorful, bright morning sun to greet me against my will. There's irony in that somewhere.

A friend and I drove out to Great Falls last night, and we promptly learned our lesson about trying to hike through the woods at night with no moonlight or flashlight. We didn't get very far, as a terrifyingly large and four-legged silhouette bounded across the dusky lamplight of a nearby field and scared the bejesus out of both of us (deer can be surprisingly scary when you don't know what they are). We heard its footsteps scurry into the wood next to us, and wondering whatever could cause a creature to run on a calm, peaceful November evening caused both of us to jump back in the car. Then I reminded her that the Blair Witch Project had been filmed nearby. Mistake.

So our little city-slicker pansy asses hurried their way back into the city. So much for adventure. It was nice to see all those stars, though. Seven miles out of DC, and it's a completely different world.

Joy, thy name is Autumn

After a two-week bout of bronchitis (that's still not entirely dead, but we're ignoring the resilient coughing and exhaustion for now), I hopped back on my bike and decided to go photo-hunting. The trees are beautiful, after all, and the weather was gorgeous today--a bit warm, a bit chilly, sunny, and bright. Perfect for snapping pictures.

I would like to add, my camera is five years old and breathing its last few, ragged breaths, but it's a trusty Kodak Easy Share that still manages to take crisp pictures with its 6.1 megapixels.

Miraculously, there were still roses blooming in the Bishop's Garden at the Cathedral, so I snapped a few shots of those. The photos are a bit schmoopy and girly, yes, but I thought they turned out nicely.

As I was photographing the last one, there was a mom/daughter (or teacher/pupil, I couldn't tell which) pair sitting on a bench behind me. The mom/teacher was explaining to the daughter/pupil how the beauty in flowers and gardens is a way of seeing God's work "because God made them." She talked about spending time with friends and family, and how God works in those times, too. I found it kind of funny that they were having this conversation outside of a giant stone cathedral. Not to write off thousands and thousands of years of phenomenal architecture for which men devoted and gave up their very lives...but while I guess gigantic churches are a traditional way of expressing devotion to God, it's one that I've never quite understood. The little faith that I have in whatever deity is out there, I have never felt in stone or in glass or in man-made structures. Which is why I set the focus like I did.

Anyway, it was a very sweet conversation that ended with the little girl saying, "I only wonder one thing....what do those white roses taste like? They just smell so good, that I can only imagine they taste better."

And to round out the afternoon, I'm baking another batch of chocolate chip pumpkin cookies...or muffkies. Muffin cookies! Kind of soft and chewy. They're pretty delicious.

All in all, a lovely autumn day.