effervescence

2003-11-14T15:27:00.000-05:00

okay, boys and girls... i have recently purchased my own domain and hosting etc. sooo, that means i will slowly be phasing blogger out. i may still post here occasionally while the "transition" is taking place, but will be hard at work on my new site (effervescence) most of the time, eventually schlepping all of my archives over and making all of my posts there. so check it out, let me know what you think of my progress, and PLEEEEASE give constructive criticism. (esp. all you web design nerds out there. i'm sure i'll have questions for you!)

for now, i'm out like a scout. peace.

2003-11-06T17:09:00.000-05:00

on a slightly more humorous note, check this out. i haven't laughed so hard at my desk since... umm... ever! : ) turn up your volume, and click on the link below.

the end of the world

i'm still freaking laughing.

2003-11-06T16:54:00.000-05:00

once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a mischievous little girl and her mother. they were all alone in the world save for two people who loved them very, very much, who would do anything to make the little girl comfortable, happy and healthy. they were her grandparents.

so, the little girl and her mother lived with the two and they were all very happy together. the mother was not around very often. she had to work all day in order to support both herself and the little girl and was at school most nights finishing her associates degree. but the little girl didn’t mind. she was content to learn painting from grandma and hear stories from grandpa. she put on plays and drew pictures for them. when she misbehaved grandpa put her up on top of the refrigerator where she couldn’t get into any trouble (which she also didn’t mind). when she started pre-school they came to all the important school events, supporting her in every possible way. her grandpa even let her play on his electric organ, as long as she was able to learn enough christmas songs to entertain him during the holiday season. so, when the little girl’s mother was ready and able to feed, clothe, care for and house herself and her daughter all on her own, it was more then understandable that the little girl was going to miss her grandparents very much. even at the age of five, she understood the meaningful and special bond she had developed with them.

luckily for the little girl, her mother started renting a house right across the street from her grandparents! she was still able to see them when ever she liked after school and on weekends. the only thing that had really changed was that (most of the time) she slept and ate in a different house. she still painted with grandma and listened to grandpa’s stories. and when she started making crafts in school meant for father’s day, it didn’t even occur to her not to substitute “world’s greatest grandpa” for “world’s greatest dad.” and when the little girl was struck by a car at the age of six, the first faces she remembered seeing when she woke up in the hospital were those of her grandparent’s.

but, as all things eventually do, the little girl’s life changed. her mother had met someone she believed she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, who did not, by the way, live right across the street from her grandparents. he lived about a forty minute drive away. the girl and her mother began spending the night there, and eventually moved in. the girl transferred schools and changed her name, and made new friends and missed the old, but mostly missed her grandma and grandpa. sure, she still saw them at family gatherings and holidays, but it just wasn’t the same.

the little girl was a young woman before anyone even realized it had happened. she began making the trip out to see her grandparents more often, for she finally understood that as she grew older, so did they. she cried when her grandpa presented her with a beautiful gold and emerald claddagh ring- found for her by his friend emmett in ireland- as a sweet sixteen present for his “favorite” grandchild. she laughed at the way her grandma always beat her at yahtzee up at cranberry lake, and the name her grandpa always gave his gin martinis: “funny water.” she cried when she was called upon to stay with her grandma during the year she began being unable to take care of herself any longer and her grandpa just couldn’t do it. she laughed when she went away to camp to work and her grandma called after her “don’t have any fun!” coupled with a wink that smiled, despite the oxygen tubes. and she cried when she went away to college and knew that every holiday home could be the last she had with her grandma, as she watched her slowly loosing the painful battle with emphysema. ironically enough, she laughed when her grandma finally did pass and she flew all the way to buffalo only to fly back to philly because the fog was so thick the plane couldn’t land. but when she finally got home just in time for the funeral she sat with her family… and cried. she laughed when she heard that her grandpa, ignorant when it came to homemaking, filled the kitchen with suds that had resulted from filling the dishwasher with laundry detergent. and then she realized: she had to just go right on laughing. what else was there to do, really?

she tried to be a good granddaughter. she made promises to herself that she’d keep in touch, that she’d call more often. she didn’t. but she sent cards for father’s day. and when her father wouldn’t speak to her and she had lost half of her family because of who she was, her grandpa came, sick and slow to philly with her mother to see her in a musical and tell her he loved her. he couldn’t actually say it, of course. instead he saw her eyes light up at the sight of a beautiful little guitar she longed to have. “you have to really practice” he told her as he paid the salesperson “and play me one of your songs when you’re ready.”

the young woman practiced and practiced. she wrote and rewrote. she didn’t come up with much, but by the time of her college graduation party, she was ready. sadly, her grandpa was having a bad day that day. he had fallen earlier on his way to the house, and he just wasn’t feeling very well. when he was getting ready to leave he asked her “i’m ready to hear something you wrote now, are you ready to play for me?” she went to go get her little guitar, but by the time she had tuned and come back outside, her aunt was escorting her grandfather to the restroom and out the door. he smiled at her, and told her that it was alright and that she could play for him next time.

so, she went back to philly and soon found out that her grandpa would be moving to a retirement home. she was skeptical at first, but it turned out to be the best thing for him. he started a bridge club with his neighbors, and brought the first ever “cocktail hour” to the community. (leave it to her grandpa to introduce the old folks to funny water!) he had only been there two months, yet her mother reported how he had made an amazing impact on everyone around him. she meant to call him and see how he was liking it for herself. she really, really meant to.

unfortunately, she never got to play that song for him. she never even saw him again. of course, she saw him in the casket at the funeral home, but it wasn’t really him. it wasn’t the surrogate father who told her stories, put her up on the fridge, called his cocktails “funny water”, tracked down a genuine irish claddagh, supplied her with a medium for musical creativity and loved her unconditionally. it was a shell. a vessel to encapsulate all the wonderful things that he was to her. the shell expired, but as cliché as it may sound, all those aspects of him are still alive and kicking… inside of her.

2003-11-03T15:59:00.000-05:00

despite all the great things one might hear about being an only child, it can, at times, be quite lonesome. there’s only so far back i can actually remember, but i know that i was on my own for socializing, support, mischief and play most (if not all) of the time. i talked to myself, made up one-woman plays, composed songs and even came up with alternate personalities as coping mechanisms for being all alone. not that i didn’t have fun doing it. i liked being the master of my day and the planner of my plans. i liked the fact that i always won the games i played (because i played them by myself) and i loved not having to share my mother’s attention with anyone else. but these perks got old, and by the time she got married and we moved to a new place, i was bored. i needed people my age to play with, to talk to and to learn from. i wanted a sister.

i didn’t get a sister, but i almost instantly found the next best thing. another little blonde-haired, freckle-faced waif of seven right down the street. she and i had the same mischievous sparkles in our curious blue eyes, lust for adventure in our oversized hearts and yearning for companionship in our compassionate souls. alaina and i quickly became the very best of friends. from then right up until high school graduation we were virtually inseparable. of course, we did have insignificant arguments here and there and as we grew older we took the occasional “break” from each other, but for the most part, we were two proverbial peas in a pod. she came on family vacations with me and i with her. our birthdays were only 10 days apart. we even looked alike.

alaina and i often joked abut being related, our finest moment being the time we got a free game of putt-putt for convincing the attendant we were twins. we thought it would be just about the coolest thing in the world to be sisters. and strangely enough, my former shooting star wish is actually about to come true. granted, i haven’t wished it in awhile. my last “wish i may, wish i might” likely had something to do with school, work or money. but at one point, i was light-hearted and free, wishing for the improbable (siblings) and the impossible (alaina as my sister).

our parents announced to us yesterday that they are going to be married (yes, to each other!) in july of this year. they have been dating for about two years now, and living together since last fall. alaina and i have been making an attempt to stay in touch (since loosing it as a result of college and geographic separation) though we both admit that we’re more than slightly crappy at it. even so, we’ve tried not to live our friendship through our parents: giving each other a call every few months, an email here and there… and although every catch-up with her is enjoyable, there was nothing like checking my email this morning and seeing a message from her, the subject line reading “hi, stepsister.”

2003-10-16T16:58:00.000-04:00

well, i have finally done it. i have officially entered the proverbial ‘real world’ and acquired a job. quite hopefully the start of a career. with my desired starting salary. and benefits. really, really good benefits, the expense of which is covered by my employer. i suppose this is one of the many perks of working for a non-profit. : ) needless to say, i am, right now, in the moment, happy. truly and really, without a care in the world, happy. although we all always worry about money (and don’t tell me YOU don’t) my worry has disappeared, or at the very least been muted. of course, this euphoria cannot last forever, and my bubble is sure to burst eventually, but for the time being i feel so… secure. i suppose that the first instance of “happiness” in a person’s life occurs at the first instance of security: when he or she is first held close by a parent, wrapped in swaddling warmth and protection. i swear, becoming financially sound is like being born again.

(note to self: do not think about college loans until after basking in above new-found security for at least one week, and having celebratory dinner with girlfriend as an official close to basking period.)

2003-10-06T15:18:00.000-04:00

there’s so much to do, and i’ve done nothing to help myself organize the tasks i need to complete. i never thought that i’d have more projects after i was done with school than i ever had while attending school. i have to:

1. fix sara’s quilt
2. finish my own quilt
3. finish organizing/editing photos from vacation and burn to CDs, for distribution to kate and my family.
4. work on the family portrait i took of the wilhelmi’s, then print, frame, and send it as a “thanks” for their unending kindness towards me.
5. work on the “ross is a superhero” photo/comic book project.
6. make a replacement renaissance dress for the one i ruined last year. SOON.
7. work on converting the wilhelmi family slides to digital format, eventually creating a dvd for kate’s dad.
8. purchase scanner for project #7.
9. transcribe all of my original music into my “effervescent anthology.”
10. write more music for said anthology.
11. convince peter to help me record a demo this winter, dispite the other musical projects he has going on.
12. talk peter into project #11 by musical bribery.
13. decide what “musical bribery” actually entails.

okay... i may have gotten a little bit goofy with the end of the above list. also, the list is not in any particular order. however: so much to do, so much time to do it, so why isn’t any of it getting done? why do i procrastinate when these are my OWN projects??? crap. i went and mastered procrastinating for the last 16 years of school, turning it into a rather fine art form. extensions for term papers? no problem! completing a 20 week project in only 5 sleepless nights? you got it! getting mostly A’s all through school, despite the intense and sometimes ridiculous instances of procrastination? easy as pie. well- pumpkin pie from real pumpkins, but still pretty easy.

the problem is, i’ve become so incredibly good at it, that i procrastinate without second thought now. it doesn’t matter if i actually want to spend some quality time working on things that i actually enjoy (unlike writing “history of jewish civilization” papers, or working with the teammate from hell on my senior project). i still put off the completion of the projects i’ve given to myself, ones that would make me happy, and that would be both positive uses of my spare time, while providing me with a sense of gratification and accomplishment. it’s no use. the procrastination has become automatic. i cannot find the shut-off valve, the red button, or the on/off switch. if anyone i know has located theirs, please share. i’ve got a ton to do, and all the time in the world to do it.

i think i need deadlines. sheesh. who would have though i’d be giving myself due dates?

2003-10-02T11:46:00.009-04:00

i love the fall...

it is a refreshing and welcomed change from the heat and humidity of the summer. it is a brisk reminder on my skin, urging me to remember a sweater in the morning. it smells of baking pies, earthy rains, fallen leaves and all things spiced. i will soon see the poor greens of the trees slowly being overcome by beautifully warm colors: fiery reds, cheerful yellows, oranges that jest and soft, serious browns. autumn sounds will be upon me shortly: crunching leaves, the sound of rakes and the “trick or treats” that are sure to grace my doorstep. i eat slow-cooked, body-warming foods now: cacciatore, stews and chili. autumn is upon me, and i yearn for glasses of mulled wine in my hands, blankets around my shoulders and games of scrabble with the woman i love, while the cats laze about in their cat-like fall-inspired way.

i love the fall.

2003-09-26T13:34:00.000-04:00

okay. so this is what happens when one puts off finishing posting about a vacation you went on two weeks ago. one’s brain gets fuzzy. and since i have permanent fuzzy brain syndrome to begin with, this is going to be even more difficult. forgive me, and read about

::the island of KWAJALEIN::

monday, 9.8.03 it was five in the a.m. when we met katie’s parents in the lobby (kate’s sister would not be joining us, she had visited kwaj before we ever arrived in hawai'i). we had woken up at 4:45. the morning was not off to a good start. i was extremely ill ("ill" is a euphemism here, by the way) from the happenings of the previous night, and NOT looking forward to boarding a plane. you get the idea. let’s fast forward through the check-in process, take-off, breakfast (kill me now) and the first couple hours of flight. alrighty then. i was feeling markedly better by this time, but was feeling a bit bad that i kept getting up and stepping over katie and our suited, flatulent companion, so i sat in the aisle seat one row up and across from that which was assigned to me. my new companion was david, an extremely outgoing and talkative member of the u.s. air force who was part of the mission we were planning on watching that wednesday. he was also traveling to kwaj, his dream was to see the incoming missile he had always helped launch, he was in marching band, played the bugle, was going to grad school, liked the color blue and had a goldfish named cleo. okay, okay. i’m going a bit far with this… but my point is, i was sitting there, trying not to puke on david, and there david was, telling me his life story. i just wanted to nap. feeling that i would be completely able to stay in my assigned seat for the remainder of our five hour flight, i wated for a break in conversation (or, a break in david’s monologue) and returned to my seat, falling into “not-quite” plane sleep.

i awoke when we landed in majuro (the capital of the marshall islands). we were only there briefly, and were not allowed to get off the plane, as an outbreak of measles had just occurred on the island. from there, it was only a hop, skip and a jump to the kwajalein atoll.

tuesday, 9.9.03 yeah, you heard me, tuesday. we had crossed the international date line, so a whole day was “lost” on our five hour flight. which, i might add, gives a whole new meaning to the expression “where did the day go?” we deplaned, and stepped out into the oppressive heat and humidity. we entered a small room where we had to lay our carry-on luggage out for a GIANT german shepherd to sniff. while that was going on, we waited in line at a desk manned with u.s. army officials who made visitor i.d.s for us, provided that we showed them the proper paperwork. after about 30 minutes, we were free to pick up our belongings and luggage. i did not escape the customs room without another encounter with my new best friend david, however. he slipped me a piece of paper on his way out, with his information on it, and where he’d be staying while on the island. it was his hope that we would be able to get together and hang out a bit while we were there, as he didn’t really have a “host” on kwaj. i smiled politely before heading out the door, where our welcoming committee stood. katie’s parent’s friends were there to greet us, and they were nice enough to have obtained a van to transport our things to the house. we had a short tour of the island (it didn’t take long) before we arrived at the wilhelmi abode.

it was nicer than we had expected. kate’s mother has done a fabulous job of trying to make the cinderblock house look cozy, homey and lived-in, though we all knew it was not what she would have preferred. there was a guest room that katie and i would be staying in that had two fairly comfy twin beds and plenty of room for our stuff. we didn’t have much time to settle in before we rushed off to get a quick bite at the snack bar. we rode bikes there, as this is the only way to get around the island. some of the workers on the island go by golf cart, but for the most part, all we saw were bikes. they were the “old-time” sort of bikes, with high handle bars, large frames and chunky seats. apparently they have less tendency to rust than most of the bikes we usually see in the states. we entered the snack bar, where i immediately noticed- you guessed it- david sitting in the dining area. this was when i first realized that this island was just too damn small for me! as we went to sit with our food, i was sure to introduce david to kate’s dad, in an attempt to avoid being cornered into another never-ending discussion. we returned to the house after eating, and watched the two channels of t.v. that were available before falling into a deep sleep at 8 p.m.

wednesday, 9.10.03 we slept in a bit, ate breakfast, made fun of government-run television, and were pleased to find out that we would be going snorkeling with katie’s dad that morning. we left around 11 a.m. and headed to the “prime” spot on the reef to enter. we made sure to put plenty of sunscreen on our backs before heading out into the unbelievably warm waters of kwaj’s lagoon. after we had gone out far enough, we donned our fins, masks and snorkels and swam among the most beautifully shaped and colored fish and coral i had ever seen in my entire life. any tropical tank or aquarium previously “oohed” and “ahhed” by myself in the past was put to shame by these naturally occurring, plentiful gems i shared the water with. the different types of coral were impressive as well, my favorite being the “brain coral,” named for it’s shape and appearance. after awhile though, my feet began to cramp as katie's were being chaffed by improperly fitted fins, so we turned back and ended our short by wonderful snorkeling excursion.

we returned to the house and showered as did kate’s dad, who unfortunately had to go back to work. that afternoon, we went with kate’s mom to feed the giant sea turtles that were kept in a small pool on the island (don’t ask me why they weren’t swimming free in the ocean). they took the squid from our hands and were very tame, although one of them slipped and bit the tip of my finger. no harm done. i continued to feed, photograph and be captivated by the huge sea creatures. and of course, david stopped by the turtle pond to talk to us. again a reminder: the island of kwajalein is only 2 ½ miles long, tip to tip. small, very small. we conversed with him briefly, and then started back home to get ready for dinner at “fine dining.” we stopped at kate’s mom’s office briefly to meet her co-workers, and on the way back from that were unfortunate enough to get caught in a short but heavy downpour. we waited it out under a pavilion at coral sands beach before continuing the journey to the house.

in the process of getting ready for dinner, kate unfortunately realized that she had been severely sun burnt while snorkeling. her legs began to turn a fiery red color, and she had trouble riding her bike to the restaurant. we had a pleasant meal, however, seated right next to david, and discussed the events of the vacation along with the mission that was scheduled to occur later that evening at 11:30 p.m. us three girls went home after dinner, and kate’s father went back to work, where he had to stay until the completion of the mission. unfortunately, when the time came to leave to see the missile re-entry, kate was in so much pain that she was unable to join us. i assured her later that she had not missed much. the sheer idea of the mission was what really impressed me. (note: i say “impressed” here with reservation. i am not, nor will i ever be in favor of any research, construction or testing of any weapon, device, chemical or disease that has the capability of causing mass destruction and/or casualties. i was impressed by the statistical analysis of the mission, but do not condone it in any way.) the ballistic missile was launched from the coast of california, and 22 minutes later it had traveled 4961 miles, coasting into the ocean off the north shore of kwajalein with an accuracy within inches. crazy scary shit, that’s all i have to say. it was very cloudy that night, so it was difficult to see the re-entry. it looked like no more than a small, glowing object streaking from the clouds into the water. if i had blinked, i would have missed it. i guess not many people have the opportunity to see what i saw, but nevertheless, it wasn’t the light show i had expected nor had seen in photos. bleary-eyed and tired, i rode back to the house and into my bed

thursday, 9.11.03 unfortunately, thursday was a bust. we were supposed to fly to roi namur, another island in the atoll, but the weather was not cooperating. i get more than a little bit of motion sickness, not to mention that walking around an island in the rain sounded like no fun at all, so we decided to call it off. instead, katie and i sat inside, played scrabble (which she won by four measly points!) and later helped her mother with dinner. we were having a “mexican night” complete with margaritas, dos equis, and cornbread. one of mrs. wilhelmi’s friends stopped by for a few margaritas later so we visited a bit with her and her adorable 2 ½ year-old daughter, lexi. what a cutie!

friday, 9.12.03 was uneventful, though kate, mrs. wilhelmi and i had en enjoyable time walking along the beach. we saw some very creepy crabs that lept from rock to rock, as well as some very interesting sea snails and hermit crabs. we played with them for a bit, collected some shells for souvenirs, and returned to the house. kate and i packed up, as we were leaving the next day at 8 a.m., then we headed to the micronesian shop to buy a few last-minute, authentic marshallese gifts for friends and family back home. we later went out on the wilhelmi’s sailboat, a beautiful catamaran called “the fusion” and took a quick dip in the ocean. right before we left, we saw an exquisite rainbow in the clouds which i attempted in vain to capture a photo of. dinner that night was shrimp and steak, along with some baby red potatoes. we later played a family game of scrabble, then turned in rather early, as we had a long couple of days of travel ahead of us.

saturday, 9.13.03 we went and dropped off our luggage at the airport two hours before check-in, and went back to the house for breakfast, not before getting caught in some nasty rain on the bikes. our clothes went in the dryer briefly, and by about 9 a.m. we were on yet another plane. at first we didn’t like the guy seated next to us, but he turned out to be quite a pleasant travel companion for the six hour flight. we proceeded to get more than slightly intoxicated on the way back to honolulu, as alcoholic beverages were complimentary on all aloha flights.

friday, 9.12.03 oh, you thought friday already happened, didn’t you? well not in the u.s. it didn’t! upon arrival on oahu, took a shuttle to the best western airport hotel. we got a quick bite, and spent the night there, waiting for our flight the next day at 4 p.m.

saturday, 9.13.03 hee hee… it’s difficult to keep track of the days, isn’t it? we laid one last time in the hawai’ian sun before checking out of the hotel and heading to the airport. we bought a few more things at the cheesy airport stores, and then boarded yet another plane. the nine hour flight to dallas seemed to last forever. we were offered the same meal choices as our first flight to l.a., and neither were very good. by this time, i was just plain ready to be home.

sunday, 9.14.03 we arrived in dallas and switched planes. there were about three more hours of flying ahead of us. although i never wanted our vacation to end, touching down in philly was quite a relief. overtired and weak, we picked up our luggage, and waited for our ride home.

::the end::

2003-09-25T16:56:00.000-04:00

THE TOP TEN REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD DONATE BLOOD:
(i don't use caps very often, so you know it's important!)

10. you will get free juice and cookies.

9. you will weigh less; one pint less when you leave than when you came in.

8. it's easy and convenient; it only takes about an hour and you can make the donation at a donor center, or at one of the many red cross mobile blood drives.

7. it's something you can spare; most people have blood to spare... yet, there is still not enough to go around.

6. nobody can ask you to do any heavy lifting as long as you have the bandage on. you can wear it for as long as you like. it's your badge of honor.

5. you will walk a little taller afterwards; you will feel good about yourself.

4. you will be helping to ensure that blood is there when you or someone close to you may need it. most people don't think they'll ever need blood, but many do.

3. it's something you can do on equal footing with the rich and famous; blood is something money can't buy. only something one person can give to another.

2. you will be someone's hero; you may give a newborn, a child, a mother or a father, a brother, or a sister another chance at life. in fact, you may help save up to three lives with just one donation.

1. it's the right thing to do.

("top ten reasons to donate blood" taken from the red cross's website.)

2003-09-22T15:50:00.000-04:00

it seems as though there are many recipes for mai tais... as a matter of fact, they differed from resort to resort. i've searched the 'net trying to find something similar to what katie and i were drinking, and this is the best, most accurate one i found:

4 ounces light rum
2 ounces dark rum
2 ounces triple sec
4 ounces orange juice
4 ounces pineapple juice
ice cubes

shake all ingredients except dark rum, pour into hurricane glass, top with dark rum (there should be a suspension of dark rum at the top of the glass.) garnish with pineapple wedge and orchid, serve.

of course, being allergic to pineapple, i would leave this ingredient (juice and garnish) out of the drink, substituting passionfruit or grenadine and garnishing with a lime and orchid. either way, a few of these, and you'll be the life of the party! ;)

2003-09-19T14:57:00.000-04:00

::the island of OAHU::

friday, 9.5.03 our plane touched down around 3 p.m. in honolulu, which was a bit later than expected. we had hoped to get into the city earlier in an attempt to catch the last pearl harbor tour. instead, we headed straight to the hilton hawwai’ian villiage. there was a convention of about 3,000 pharmaceutical sales reps going on, as well as the mrs. america pageant. needless to say, the lobby was crowded. luckily, mr. wilhelmi is one of the “preferred” hilton customers, so we were able to have a speedy check-in.

mrs. wilhelmi had been talked into booking two apartments that were resort-owned for us in lieu of the standard hotel room, so we proceeded to the diamond head apartment building, located behind one of the resort towers. when we arrived at the building, a sinking feeling settled in our stomachs. the building exterior, elevator, and hallways were less than impressive. but, keeping in mind that outside appearances could be deceiving, we continued to our side-by-side apartments. after all, the lady mrs. wilhelmi had spoken to made it clear that they were newly renovated, air conditioned, and would accommodate us nicely. unfortunately, when we entered our musty, stuffy, dark quarters we found none of the above. ancient bug-ridden furnishings, an inadequate amount of beds, and tiny window air conditioners in cinderblock bedrooms greeted us. mrs. wilhelmi was on the phone to the manager in a matter of minutes.

about a half hour and a firm demand for customer service later, we were on our way to our new room assignments. kate’s mother, father, and sister would be staying in the super suite on the 28th floor of the rainbow tower. kate and i would be staying in a suite on the 18th floor. we all went up to the super suite first, and couldn’t believe our eyes. there was a kitchen, family room and living room areas, a dining area, two televisions, a powder room, a full bathroom, and one of those huge curved couches. there were no beds, which i though was weird at first, but we were told that the suite was mainly booked by guests who wished to entertain. three fairly comfortable roll-away beds were brought in for mr. and mrs. wilhelmi and kate’s sister to sleep in. kate and my room wasn’t too shabby, either. we had a living area, a dining area, an efficiency kitchen area, two full bathrooms and of course, a king-sized bed. oh yes- and two private balcony lanais. if we weren’t in the lap of luxury at the last resort (which we were) there was no doubt about it now.

we went to a nice italian place for dinner, where i supped on a scrumptious meal of ‘frutti del mar’ or ‘fruit of the sea.’ it was a yummy combination of calamari, mussles, clams, crab, fish, shrimp and scallops on a bed of linguini with a tasty white sauce. i gave katie my scallops. they creep me out. after dinner we went back up to the super suite and stood on one of the three private lanais, watching the sun set. we then headed to the bar for a few drinks while kate’s sister and mother shopped, and retired to our respective rooms. we had a busy day planned for saturday.

saturday, 9.6.03 we arose early for a buffet breakfast downstairs with the fam, and then headed off to pearl harbor. after obtaining our tickets, we browsed the gift shop while we waited for our tour group to be called. when it was time, we all filed into a theatre where they showed up a short film about the attack on pearl harbor. at the conclusion of the film, we boarded the fairy that would take us to the arizona memorial. we were informed that all the men that went down with the ship were still there, so we should treat our visit much like that to a graveyard. in effect, that is exactly what it was. it was quite eerie, seeing the massive arizona beneath the clear waters of the bay. no one spoke. occasionally there was muffled whispers or the click of a camera, but mostly there was silence, broken by the flapping of the american flag in the wind above the sunken giant.

after such a poignant visit, we were ready for some fun. we traveled across oahu past the north shore and state parks to the polynesian culture center. here, we walked around and saw different shows, demonstrations and workshops about the diverse islands that make up polynesia. around dinnertime, we headed to an authentic luau hosted by the center, complete with fresh flower leis and a pit-roasted pig. the evening entertainment was incredible, showcasing dances and music by native polynesians. the comedic and dramatic fire dancing of samoa was a perfect finale.

sunday, 9.7.03 sunday, our last day at the resort, was a day of relaxation. kate’s parents had some errands to run while in honolulu, so kate, her sister, and i took to the sparkling sand and gentle waves of waikiki beach, one of the most famous beaches in the world. maybe it was fame that caused the lounge chair rental to be $12 per day, and the umbrella rental $30. we sprung for the chairs, but couldn’t justify $30 for a silly beach umbrella. i realized later that the umbrella may have come in handy though, because it was hot! after only a few hours on the beach, we were parched, in desperate need of rehydration. we met up with the parents for lunch, and then went our separate ways for the remainder of the afternoon. katie and i did some shopping in the resort where she purchased two extremely cool t-shirts that i am very jealous of. one is dyed in volcano ash, and the other in kona coffee beans. it actually smells like coffee!

after getting ready for dinner, kate and i want down to the bar for a few drink while we waited for 7 p.m. (our reservation time at the sushi place) to roll around. i ordered an enormous and potent long island iced tea and after that, a mai tai. then we chowed down on some of the tastiest and cheapest sushi i’ve eaten to date (supplemented by some japanese beer, of course) and proceeded back to the bar for live entertainment and *more* drinks. this included another ridiculously large long island iced tea and two more mai tais. big mistake. we had to be up at 5 the next morning in order to make our fight to kwajalein, so take a wild guess as to who was “air sick” the entire next morning… fun. perhaps not the best note to end my fantastic visit to oahu, but as a whole this island was marvelous, and i couldn’t have asked for a better time.

2003-09-18T14:11:00.000-04:00

so, i just got back from singing the national anthem at the vet for a philly's game. oh yeah, that's right. with none other than the amazing, splindiferous treblemakers. but the best part about all of this (besides being on the jumbo-tron, getting free tix and amazing publicity) was performer turn-out. the game was originally scheduled for 7 p.m. this evening. however, because of the "threat" from isabel, the game was bumped up to 1 p.m., right in the middle of over half of our workdays. guess how many treblemakers were able to juggle their schedules around in order to be there for each other? go on, guess. that's right, all of us. boo-ya. furthermore, 10 of us were going to be performing at the 7 p.m. game, but because of the time change, we had 11 singers today. : ) that's dedication. or luck. or both. either way, it rocks.

2003-09-16T15:00:00.000-04:00

question: “how was your vacation?”

answer: “wonderful, thank you for asking.”

it seems like such a trite answer… but the fact is, so many people are asking, and it’s also the simple one. i mean, it’s hard to tell the same story over and over again. especially when you’ve still got a hint (okay, more than a hint) of jet lag left from your 16+ hour journey across the international dateline, and when you’ve got a brand new kitty at the front and center of your weary head. although there are still quite a few people that i need to sit down with and have the full-out, vacation details over a zocalo margarita chat with, i’ll try to remember the highlights and important details here, each post covering each island. hopefully katie will comment if i’ve left anything out, which i’m bound to do.

::the BIG island::

monday, 9.1.03 we arrived in kona on the big island and checked in to the ocean tower of the hilton waikoloa village resort around six in the evening. we were extremely tired out from traveling, however, so we had a drink with kate’s parents and turned in for the night.

tuesday, 9.2.03 suffering from minor jet lag (or perhaps the opposite- our inner clocks were ahead of schedule) kate and i arose in our king-sized bed around five a.m. we stepped out onto our private lanai and the beautiful hawai’ian day greeted us. after an early-morning swim in one of the many pools the resort boasted, we met up with the rest of the wilhelmi family for a buffet breakfast at one of the hotel restaurants, the highlight of which was guava jelly. yum. then, we headed to a small lagoon in the resort where over a half-dozen dolphins resided. we watched for awhile, i took a few photos of the beautiful creatures, and then we actually were able to swim in the lagoon with them. under the supervision of one of the trainers at the resort, we had the amazing experiences of asking them to do tricks for us, feeling a pregnant dolphin’s belly, feeding fish for good behavior, and standing right next to a young calf. it was an incredible start to the afternoon, to say the very least. a refreshing lunch, a cool swim with full use of the pool waterslides, and a few mai tais later, i was completely worn out. we retired to our room and relaxed a bit before getting ready for a scrumptious gourmet dinner at donatoni’s, the italian restaurant at the resort. concluding our meal was a delectable cheescake topped with various fruits, kona coffee beans, and chocolate syrup sent to us from our waitress from lunch that afternoon. a perfect way to end a perfect day.

wednesday, 9.3.03 we slept a bit longer this time, and woke up refreshed. the day was spent lounging, swimming and sunning. i couldn’t remember the last time i had felt so relaxed. lunch was eaten by the pool, followed by a dip in the lagoon. on our way back up to the room we spotted a sea turtle making it’s way into the place we had just been swimming. it was so beautiful, gliding its giant body effortlessly through the salty water. we later learned that katie’s dad went in for a swim with it, and gently touched its shell and fins.

after washing off the salt and sun, we headed to the town of kona to do some shopping and eat dinner. we had agreed on the local brewery which also boasted “the best pizza on the big island,” according to our breakfast waiter earlier that day. he was right. the pizza was fantastic. but the beer was even better. i started with an amber brew that had a slight banana flavor. very yummy. next i tried a light passion fruit beer. my only complaint is that i can’t just walk down the street to wurst house and buy it. : )

thursday, 9.4.03 this was perhaps the most exciting part of my trip to the big island. it took almost three hours to drive to hawai’i volcanoes national park but it was well worth the car-sickness. after taking an eleven mile scenic drive around mauna loa and walking through a natural lava tube, we drove as far as the road could take us (it had been blocked by a flow of lava in march of this past year.) we then hiked across the black desert to where lava from the world’s most active volcano (kilauea) was flowing. gelatinous mounds of the red-hot stuff slowly made it’s way toward the ocean, changing the big island’s landscape right in front of our very eyes. we waited for the sun to set, the sky to turn inky black, watching in awe as twinkling white dotted the heavens and burning red streaked the earth.

friday, 9.5.03 marked the end of our stay on the big island. we ate a quick breakfast, bought some kona coffee beans and made our way to the airport for our 1:30 p.m. flight to honolulu. though it was sad to leave, i knew more adventures awaited us on hawai’i's most populated and perhaps most popular island, oahu.

2003-08-15T10:51:00.000-04:00

”congratulations!”

the excited smile stayed, but eagar eyes shifted from those of anticipation, waiting to see his reaction, to confusion, noticing that family members of hers were among the attendees of “dante’s” surprise party. slowly, things came into clearer focus for her: her cousins, her sister and accompanying boyfriend, the “congratulations, kate!” cake she helped me bake the night before, her framed UNO diploma, gifts, cards, the banner, the decorations, and most importantly, a cap and gown laid out with the appropriate tassel attached, ready to be donned by she who had not yet been properly honored for all her undergraduate achievements.

and oh, was she honored! how many people get to hear graduation speeches from those who know them best and love them most, as opposed to some celebrity “making an appearance?” who is able to sit in a reclining camping chair, dressed in the appropriate regalia, with a smoke in one hand and a beer in the other? furthermore, how many people do you know that have a private, invite-only, graduation ceremony? i’m jealous. : )

so needless to say, it was a surprise party of the truest sort, pulled off so successfully in that not only did the guest of honor actually assist in preparations for the event, but she also got herself out of her own house two hours prior to the shindig, AND gave a warning call before she showed up. food was grilled and eaten, beer was drunk, fun was had by all. two enthusiastic thumbs up.

2003-08-08T12:27:00.000-04:00

i got a new piercing last night!

a cute little daith piercing. (the one in the pic is not me, but i thought some of you might not know what a daith piercing was, and it's sort of hard to explain, so i figured i'd just find a good picture of one.) it hurt like none other to get done, though. and i'm not usually a baby about these things. i had wanted one for about two months or so, and my dear friend anthony had expressed interest in going with me, so last night came, and off we went to infinite body piercing on south street.

the piercer, john, did ant first (upon my request, i was starting to get the "pre-piercing jitters.") he didn't even flinch! i was so proud of him. then, it was my turn hop up into The Chair. john seemed excited about doing a daith. he said it was the piercing that "kept piercers on their toes." i wasn't sure what to think of the comment, but i watched a he changed his gloves, opened a fresh needle, and made marks on the hidden little piece of cartilage in my ear. i told him i wanted it to lay flush with my conch and he told me that wouldn't be a problem, although during the healing process they tend to stick out a bit no matter how well the piercing goes. then, he told me to start taking deep breaths. i tried. i really did. but as soon as he started pushing the needle through the thick cartilage, i started squirming and squeaking, and gasping from the pain and pressure. there was a few crunching noises, and then it was all over. he inserted my jewelry, which stung a bit, but didn't hurt nearly as much as the needle (infinite uses needles that are one gauge thicker than the jewelry when they perform cartilage piercings. this both decreases the pain and unnecessary aggravation of the fresh wound, as well as expedites healing.) there was quite a bit of blood, but john patiently let me "bleed out" and then put the captive bead on the ring (a cute little amber one) and i was done!

i got up, looked at my new MOD in the mirror, and fell in love with it. i love the way it sits in my ear, tucked away, subtle yet unique. i only know one person who has a daith piercing, and she lives in new orleans. we returned home for a game of the sims, pumped up with post-piercing adrenaline and endorphins. but about 30 minutes into the game, my ear started throbbing and felt wet. i asked anthony "is it bleeding?" and he looked at me and replied "um, yeah. you've got a little stream there." i went to the bathroom to find a fairly heavy stream of blood coming from both the entrance and exit wounds in my ear, pooling there. i tried to sop up the blood with a q-tip, but it was immediately clear that i needed a more substantial method of blood absorption. i got a cotton pad and held it to my ear, trying not to disturb the jewelry (which is extremely difficult, considering the anatomy) and i became very light-headed and woozy. no fun. i laid down, and ant got me a wet towel for my forehead, and i proceeded to feel like crap for the rest of the evening. but i'm glad i had someone there to make sure i didn't... well, i don't know. pass out? either way, it's nice to have company when you feel the way i did, especially company who can sympathize, because they are in self-made pain as well. you can't really complain to the non-pierced in times like those, because after all, you were the one who just asked someone to shove a thick needle through the tender cartilage inside your ear.

but today is a new day, and my ear only aching slightly, and i have such a beautiful little addition to my ear to show for all my agony. i think that anyone who is thinking about getting a daith should just go for it. it hurt like a mother you -know-what, but the end result is worth it. at least, so far. ; ) i'll let y'all know how much of a pain in the ass cleaning is later on.

2003-08-05T17:07:00.000-04:00

blogathon was excellent. absolutely and utterly awesome. please check out peter's site right this second if you haven't already, and continue to read me later. that's just how cool it actually was. you need to listen now. i can hardly wait until next year's blogathon, and all crushingkrisis has in store.

also, i just returned from a weekend of camping in new jersey. my only complaint is that the weekend didn't last just a teeny bit longer. oh, and the ticks. yes. i have complaints about the ticks. however, i can't even really complain about them, either, because it was my own damn fault in the first place that i picked so many up. i mean, come on. what seasoned, girl scout-trained camper in her right mind wears a long, dragging hippie-dress with flip-flops in the middle of the dense underbrush of the pine barrens all weekend, and doesn't expect ticks? right. that's what i thought. i am not the true camper i thought i was, apparently, because i ended up removing about a dozen of the little eight-legged freaks from my legs and feet over the course of three days. the dress, needless to say, went directly in the trash. no need to bring parasites home to my pets just because i'm an idiot.

but all and all, what a wonderful weekend! the weather turned out to be quite lovely, dispite the dreary forecast, and the company was supurb. if you're reading, fellow camp restriction attendees, thank you all for such a relaxing weekend in the woods!

2003-07-25T16:46:00.000-04:00

the party, in case you were wondering, was a huge success. the cornucopia of guests meshed quite nicely, and left a mellow combination of flavors on the palate. especially after a few drinks. my aunt mary b. “stole the show” so to speak, and by the end of the night had turned both herself and my mother into a couple of college girls, complete with flip-cup, beer pong, and almost-flashings. scary when it’s your mother. : ) but it was, in fact, a huge success.

in other news, tomorrow is blogathon, as a lot of you know, but then again, some of you don’t. my very dear friend peter (yes, that’s him over there. yes. crushingkrisis. go ahead, click on the link) will be up-and-at-em at 9:00 am tomorrow morning until 8:00 am sunday to grace the world of blogging with all he and a few of our talented friends have to offer. every hour, he will upload a new song that has been recorded right in his very own bedroom, many of them originals. i expect you all to tune in to crushingkrisis tomorrow to hear us groovin’ on. furthermore, he’s not just doing this to be wacky. hell no. he’s raising money for world education. so when you visit his page, be sure to sponsor him if you are able. make a difference! i did.

there is quite a schedule drawn up for the participants of tomorrow’s events at peter’s place. from appetizers to dinner, recreation to alcohol, music to mayhem- it will all be encapsulated during our representation of the ‘thon tomorrow. i plan to be there, bells on, camera ready, to capture it for all those viewers, readers, and listeners who care to get sucked a little bit deeper into our spiraling insanity. come on. ride with us. don’t fight us, join us…

in any case, i’m sure i’ll be commenting often on peter’s sidebar, and posting pics on the half of each hour. hope to catch you there!

2003-07-17T16:58:00.000-04:00

well, i am off to "the buff" again. For my graduation party. seven months late, mind you, but at least it's happening. everyone will be there. when i say everyone, i certainly mean everyone. my mom's family, her boyfriend's family, her boyfriend's ex's family (not to mention her boyfriend's ex), my former best friend from elementary school and high school (don't get the wrong idea, she's still my friend, she just now also happens to be my mom's boyfriend's daughter), my friends from high school, her friends from high school (some of them overlap), my friends from college, her friends from college. old family friends who used to be babysitters, piano teachers, and librarians, old family friends who used to be family friends, but then turned out to be lesbians (well, only one, actually), my girlfriend. her boyfriend. it is going to be quite an experience, to say the very least.

if i haven't been writing recently, it's because i haven't had much to write about. perhaps this weekend will change that, at least temporarily...

2003-07-02T16:34:00.000-04:00

i visited my mother in buffalo this past weekend. yes, i am originally from good old western new york. not upstate new york, mind you. buffalo is absolutely, without a doubt, located in the western part of the state of new york. right.

anyway, i showed up at her office, unannounced, and went to the service window as if i were one of the insurance agents she works for. when she looked up and saw it was her “baby,” she started shrieking like a schoolgirl and hopping like a kangaroo. or a toad. hmmm. maybe a rabbit. yes. let’s go the old-fashioned bunny route with this particualar description.

she was out of control with excitement. i don’t know how she made it through the last five minutes of her work day. she forgot all about the trouble she was having with her sisters, the conflict that had arisen with her boyfriend the night before, and unfortunately, the airborne mail she was supposed to drop off at the post office that evening. i brought a calm to her world, and a playful spirit to her soul. there was a late night of cards and wine, of the boyfriend snoring while we painted our toenails. there was a magnificent morning of a little niece to play with and big boat to drink beer on. all the while with my momma.

and then we had to say goodbye. twenty-four hours and it was all over. no more laugh lines, no more ecstatic giggles. just hugs that were slightly too tight, that lasted a little too long, along with the usual “don’t leave me” and struggle to hold back tears. but for one day, i was the one who made her happy. me. i was the cause of my mothers serenity and contentment. she’s been doing a lot of that lately. being happy, i mean. and without me. it’s something that has never occurred before, something that i should be relieved and excited and welcoming towards.

two years ago, i was annoyed and agitated. i was sick and tired of my mother having to lean on me, to depend on me, to fight her battles and to dry her tears. she doesn’t need me to do that anymore. she doesn’t come to me with every little problem. she doesn’t call as often. there’s no need, i suppose.

when i was little, i didn’t want my mother to act so much like a mother. when i got a little older, i didn’t want her to act so much like my friend. and now… i’m looking for a happy medium between the two.

i am in the limbo of twenty-something daughterhood.

2003-07-01T10:58:00.000-04:00

okay, okay... i know it's been awhile. but when my life was previously filled with mindlessness for at least 8 hours out of each and every day, it was easy to find time to blog. now- not so much. but, if actually enjoying my life (ouside of a cube) means slightly less time for writing... then i'll take it. really though, it'll probably just take a week or so to get settled in before i find a little time to set aside at my spacious new desk semi-daily for the good old blog.

so you're probably wondering about this new job. well, in the interest of protecting the company *just in case* i end up getting bored and bashing it later on, i'm not going to tell you the name. all i can really say is "what a difference a block makes!" i love it. absolutely love it. granted, it's not exactly a digital media producer's nor a music educator's dream job or anything. but it certainly is a breath of fresh air after my last experience. furthermore, i actually feel as though i'm making a difference in the world now, even if it is only my little philadelphia community. i have to start somewhere, after all. and there's nothing more satisfying than knowing that i'm doing my part as a functioning member of society, trying to make it a teeny bit better.

2003-06-09T14:39:00.000-04:00

why a cube?

how can anything good come out of someone who is boxed in all day, in claustrophobic rectangle of gray, staring at a computer screen, with little to no human contact, save for the hour outside (if it's not raining) lunch break, and the emails sent back and forth between friends? how is the cube good? who came up with this concept? i feel like a fourth grader who just threw a spitball that hit the teacher in the back of the head. my desk is away from everybody in the corner. no opportunity for passing notes, exchanging sarcastic glances, or even the occasional whisper. come on now... we're all adults here!!! stop boxing us up, cubing us in, and shuting us up! and let us play some music for pete's sake!

i'm slowly loosing my mind in my medium-sized gray cube, and because of the boxed-in nature of corporate america, there's not even anyone here to witness the downward spiral. what a shame. i could've sold tickets and made a pretty penny.

2003-06-04T16:10:00.000-04:00

father's day is next sunday.

i spent the first seven years of my life father-less, at least in the traditional sense, but i still had male role models. i spent a great deal of time with my grandpa. and my uncle (yes, the one who taught me to "play" chess) fit the big-brother mold like a glove. in june at kindergarten, we made plaques shaped like neckties out of baked clay, decorated with paint, yarn and sequins. paperweights were carefully crafted from plaster of paris and pretty stones, dried in a dixie cups, and we slowly pulled off the paper after they had hardened. these precious presents were wrapped up, just like grandma's good china, in newspaper (i chose the funnies) and placed into homemade bags with words lettered in crayon: world's greatest dad. i chose a red crayon. not brick red, not that crappy red-violet, and certainly not red-orange. just plain-old, dependable, no-bells-or-whistles red. and my lettering wasn't quite the same as the rest of my classmates. it was better. i had practiced. and, of course, my little red-lettered-bag didn't boast the same message, either. but it was okay, in my mind, because i was the only kid in the class who could spell 'grandpa'. i liked being able to do things the other kids couldn't. and until my grandpa finally had to retire from the law firm last year, he still had that paperweight on his desk.

so, next sunday is father's day, and i bought the man my mother eventually married and divorced a card. when i was living with he and my mother, i would buy him golf gear. a box of golf balls, or a golf glove. nearly every single year. no thought went into it- it was habit, really. occasionally i would have to ask my mom to spot me a couple bucks, because i had used my money on other, more important things. the movies. new clothes. eating out with friends. and now, 22 years old, i'm debating whether to even send the card, with the same mentality of the teenaged brat i was then. he called me last week for the first time in months. asked for my address so he could send me an already-two-weeks-late birthday card. i haven't received any card yet. i feel like i have the right to be bratty.

i don't want to be a bitter person. i have so much love in my heart, so much positive energy to share, but it takes every fiber of my being to share it with my dad. i'm starting to feel like fathers are just fairy tales. myths. characters in fables and children's stories. they don't stick around, they don't keep in touch, and they certainly don't have any idea how to show you they care. at least not *either* of mine. but then again, have i tried? i mean have i really tried?

it's frustrating when you've spent over twenty years trying to be the perfect kid, and then all of a sudden have to try to be the right kind of adult. one who's compassionate, and forgiving, and understanding. he sure didn't teach me how to be that way. but i have faith that i am, or can be... what other choice do i have?

i wonder if my dad needs a paperweight?

2003-06-03T16:43:00.000-04:00

here's something interesting i just figured out.

an aquaintence asked me the other day what made me decide i like women better than men. well, it's not really a matter of preference, necessarily. i just got lucky, because i play the cards right (so to speak.) let's look at some statistics: there are roughly 6,296,234,464 people in the world. and according to the united nations, the worldwide sex ratio is about 102 men for every 100 women. still following me? that means that 50.495% of the world's population are men, leaving 49.505% women. here's the kicker. if i had decided to only date men, i would have eliminated 3,116,950,871 people form the pool of possible "perfect" matches. that hardly seems fair, now does it? talk about cutting your odds in half... i'm with the perfect person because i played my cards right. who cuts the deck in half and then tries to win at blackjack? it's not a very likely victory, now is it?

2003-06-03T11:58:00.000-04:00

there was once a time when all i lived for was the summer. i waited all year long, eagerly awaiting the perennial moment that came with each june. it was a time of carefree splendor, of innocent childlike frolicking at... summer camp.

as a youngster, i would spend at least two consecutive weeks at the marvelous girl scout camp "seven hills," usually twice during the summer. fourteen days in july, fourteen days in august (usually the last session, so i could experience the melodrama of all my counselors exchanging tearful goodbyes at the closing campfire, hoping they'd keep in touch during the off season.)

my counselors amazed me. i thought that they were the best thing since sesame street's snuffleupagus. seriously. i wrote my favorite ones letters all year long, and most of them actually kept in touch. they were like big sister pen pals. when mikey sheetz wouldn't kiss me on the playground in third grade, they assured me there'd be plenty of time for boys when i was older. they felt bad for me when i got grounded for taking alaina's dad's four-wheeler out in the woods and breaking the headlight when we were 12. and as my delicate teenage heart broke when it was finally time for boys, my tearstained letters were met with warm consoling and answered with heartfelt sympathy. those women took care of me, not only during the summer when they were getting paid to, but all year long, as my correspondents in confidence.

so naturally, when the awkward time came that i was too old to be a camper, but still a bit young to be a counselor, i entered into the counselor-in-training program. i spent my first entire summer there. two months of camping splendor. it was a match made in heaven. me and camp, camp and me. i couldn't wait till the following year when i could finally, officially be a paid member of the camp seven hills team.

an application arrived at my house for me from the girl scout council in january, inviting me to work at camp during the approaching summer, since i had successfully completed the c.i.t. program. unfortunately, they had changed the age requirements for counselors, so the only position i could apply for was kitchen aid. i was a peon that summer. i slaved for twelve hours a day in the scorching sauna of a dining hall, unable to use a knife or the stove (sine nys health code stated i was "too young" to do so), forced to prepare cold food, wash dishes, and unload food shipments. food shipments meant the luck of the draw for me and my fellow kitchen aids. they meant that we needed to split up into three categories (and there were only four of us): dry storage, cooler, and freezer. we needed to take the food that came in, and efficiently store it in its respective place. i can recall one morning we received a shipment of chicken breasts and frozen veggies, when darby got stuck with freezer duty. she ended up being trapped in the sub-zero closet for nearly two hours trying to figure out the most convenient place to put everything so the food stuffs could be easily located. finally, she got frustrated, and decided to just label everything. "chicken boobs" and "fraternizing veggies." this, my dear readers, was the highlight of the summer of '97. paul broke up with me that summer, i fought with one of the other aids, i got paid next to nothing, and i felt like a caged animal. i was able to witness all the fun everyone was having in the sweet height of the summer in beautifully wooded holland, ny, but only from the prison of a kitchen i had found my way into.

i almost didn't want to go back. when the application came to my house again that winter, i wanted to laugh and tear it up. i felt like camp had betrayed me, had tricked me into working there the previous summer, just so a bunch of unappreciative brats could eat nasty food all summer long, playing, enjoying, and living it up in their tents without me. but, the camping bug had bitten me again, and my calamine was a junior counselor position.

it was nothing like working in the kitchen. it was bliss. i taught songs and games. i helped plan and prepare cookouts and overnight backpacking. i dried tearstained, homesick faces. i received a decent paycheck (for a seventeen-year-old). i dated one of the three male counselors. i made some of the best friends i had ever had up to that point. it was wonderful. i mended my relationship with camp seven hills, vowing to never fight with it again.

for the following two summers, i held positions as assistant drama specialist, and drama specialist. my girls put on the cutest plays! one time, we did "charlie and the chocolate factory," and all of the little brownies (girls aged seven and younger) were oompa-loompas. there was nothing cuter. i smoked a lot of cigarettes, pondered the meaning of life, had my first romantic experience with a girl, got into some mischief, and generally had no worries. when it came time to say goodbye to that phase of my life because i had to take summer semesters for the remainder of my time in college, i knew i was leaving behind something i would never find again. i haven't spoken to girls i promised i would never forget. and while i've not forgotten, i sometimes wonder if they have.

occasionally i hear from a "camp person" and i find out, after my soon-to-be three years of absence, that most of the people i was close to at camp are still actually working there. i wonder who's got "it" right. me, sitting in my gray corporate cubicle, unhappy with what i'm doing, unfulfilled by data entry and billing runs... or them, most recent college graduates having their last hurrah at a place i once longed for ten months of the year. some of them will even get to continue working there, because they've got summers off for the rest of their lives. well, as long as there exists jobs for teachers. i want to be a teacher.

it's june now. and, like every june, i want to be at camp. in three weeks, darby, bloomer, jolly, nyqui, birdy, daisy and the rest will all be packing up their footlockers and rolling up their sleeping bags, preparing to enjoy two month of sun, fun, campfires, sing-a-longs, hikes, games, and friends. and i will be here. sitting at this desk, staring at this screen, trying to satiate my camping hunger with the glimmer of hope that i *might* spend a long weekend in a tent somewhere. someone remind me why i graduated early, and why i'm not a teacher yet? please?

2003-06-02T11:30:00.000-04:00

it was a great success. a really great sucess. the treblemakers' second anual concert was leaps and bounds ahead of the first anual (or any other of our countless gigs) in terms of production, and even raw musical quality. the house was nearly full. we recieved a standing ovation. i didn't fall and kill myself trying to look hotter than hot in my strappy red stilletos. natalie's voice temporarily peeked it's head out for the duration of the show. and most importantly, everyone had a great time. a really, genuinely great time. the same goes for the choir concert the following day. my solo was nothing less than stellar. our performance was nearly flawless. and dr. powell was both impressed and proud. so why do i feel so awful?

i guess "awful" is the wrong word to describe my state right now. there is the bittersweet relief of having a stressful chapter of my life come to a close. i'm going to have all the time in the world now to spend however i like. the problem is, i liked spending it the way i did. music drives my soul. for me, it is a sustaining life force. and i feel an emptiness inside when i think that i've lost a good portion of that.

of course, i've gained so much at the same time. through these experiences, i've decided what i want my ultimate contribution to society to be. if i can make one person feel the same passion i do for music, then i will have been successful in that contribution. i think that's a pretty amazing gain from something as simple as being music director for the treblemakers for one year. furthermore, i'll have more time to expand and grow as a songwriter, and become a more competant guitarist. i'll have more time for my girlfriend. i'll have more time for my friends. more time for my pets, and for my apartment. time for my garden, and for summer, and the beach and for long hand-in-hand walks. i'll have time to breath.

wow. it is only just now that i realize that in all my lamenting about something so important being over, something just as precious is about to start- my life. after all, school only paves the way, right? now i guess it's time to start walking down the path and enjoy beautiful, uninterupted time. the important things will fall into place. and after all, there's nothing wrong with giving oneself a little break after 10 years of constant rehersing.

2003-05-30T14:47:00.000-04:00

so everyone's sorta "hey lindsay, what gives? why no more blogging?" and i honestly can't answer them. i usually just say that i'm too busy at work, and that i really just can't find the time. but that excuse is bullshit. while i am very busy at work, i really couldn't possibly care less about my job, and therefore could push something aside for 15 minutes and write. i suppose the fact is that i'm afraid the stuff i have in my head isn't worth writing about. i don't want to bitch about my life, i don't want to vent about my friends (no- i certainly don't want to do that. as a matter of fact, i'm anti-that) i've got no problems in my romantic life... basically, my problem is that i don't want to turn this into a diary. diaries, in my opinion, are for personal use, to be seen and modified solely by the user. i mean, who in the world puts their diaries up on the web exposed and naked for the world to scrutinize? i don't mean to offend those who do. it's just not what i would prefer. especially since my "audience" consists mainly of a few of my friends, and they generally know what going on with me anyhow. i feel that if i post my life here, i am effectively lighting a match, and seeing if it finds a nice puddle of gasoline to marry and have a thousand little firey children with to make my social life a living hell. so, my rule will be this: no mixing blogging with my personal relationships. that is the first groundrule.

that being said, the second groundrule needs to be that although i'm going to do my best not to ever offend anyone (especially my friends), i must remember that the best writing really does come from personal experience. so, while i won't specifically mention that friend X called friend Y to hang out, but purposefully didn't tell significant other Z, and now Z's not speaking to X, i may find that situation humorous, and let ya'll know how i feel about it. does that make sense?

so that is that. now what do i write about?

2003-05-14T10:09:00.000-04:00

what is up with blogger? rar! i finally have something to say, and it's all screwy!!! double rar!

2003-04-23T10:50:00.000-04:00

i've never really played chess before. not really. my uncle taught me the correct way to move each piece when i was 5, probably because i was only five, and he (being 12 years my senior) was looking for an easy win. or, maybe he really did want me to be able to learn how to play the game. but what exactly can one expect from a five year-old freckle-faced tow-headed girl playing chess? not much more than you can expect from a twenty-two year-old not-so freckle-faced blond-haired woman, apparently. I made an argument last night that a child of five lacks the mental ability to reason well enough to develop stategy. my friend, a born competitor (to put it nicely) seemed to believe that he had the ability to devise strategies as a toddler. it is unfortunate, as discovered through my game last night, that i have yet to develop these skills.

or maybe i just need to practice.

2003-04-17T11:39:00.000-04:00

i had a very odd dream last night. let me start by saying that i am working towards being able to call myself "someone who plays the guitar" ... a "guitarist", if you will. i don't know when exactly this term is allowed to be used to describe myself, as i have a *slight* lack of confidence in my musical ability with this particular instrument. anyhow- i play the guitar. i play a very beutiful guitar, as a matter of fact. it is a seagull artist series mohogany folk with a solid cedar top, solid mohogany back and sides, indian rosewood fingerboard and bridge. it has abalone and mother-of-pearl inlays on the headstock and at the twelfth fret and...mmm, the most mellow magnificent tone. *sigh* well, you can check it out for yourself. let's just say i have a not-so-secret love affair with my guitar.

back to my dream. i am playing a little ditty on my guitar, and all of a sudden it starts to break apart, cracking and splintering there in my hands, right before my very eyes. i am in utter disbelief. the chords that i am playing become dissonant, the song ugly and utterly out of tune. (some people will argue that you cannot hear sounds in your dreams. i suppose i am gifted.) it crumbles into a dusty heap at my feet. i rush to the music store where my grandfather purchased it for me last may as a sort of "coming out present" (another post for another time...) and show the salespeople there the rubble that was one of my most prized possesions. i ask if they can replace it for me, and they feel so sorry for the little pathetic wanna-be guitarist that they offer to give me another at no charge, and send me home with a harshell case that seems slightly misshapen to be a replacement for my folk-sized instrument.

when i get home, i open the case, and inside is not a guitar, but a trombone! "what am i going to do with a trombone?" i ask myself. i leave the trombone on my living room couch and return to aforementioned *confused* music store, explaining the mix-up and requesting another replacement. again they oblige. much to my dismay, upon returning home, i find a flute in the hardshell case where guitar is expected to be.

i continue this awful cycle throughout the remainder of my dream, and just before waking, see that i have collected the makings of an entire orchestra right in my very own living room. if this isn't a sign to go ahead and pursue my dream of being a music educator, i don't know what is...

2003-04-15T16:51:00.000-04:00

did you ever have one of those tuesdays you wished was a friday? this is one of those tuesdays. outside, the air is warm with a tease of summer. it smells of all things sun-soaked and barbequed. eyes squint as if they've not seen the sun in ages. sunglass-buying time is upon us. and all i can do is wish to be basking in it all. my cubicle grows more drab as the weather warms and the colors of spring peek their tiny faces from behind the dead browns and grays of a winter that has lasted far too long. surprising that my cubicle and desk are various shades and tints of the aformentioned colorless hues. i need some freshly-cut lilacs (purple ones) to fool my senses into ignoring my little area of gloom.

are we sure this isn't a friday?

2003-04-11T16:49:00.000-04:00

an itty bitty pin-prick. the feeling of warm liquids rushing out of me. slight nausea. having produced enough volume to fill a ben and jerry's mint chocolate cookie container. those little dark spots that slowly begin to mesh together. seeing clearly again. all the pretzles and orange juice i can eat and drink. a pretty red and white sticker. knowing that something once inside of me will shortly be flowing through a fellow human being in need.

be nice to me. i gave blood today.

2003-04-11T12:16:00.000-04:00

slightly damp, and more than a little bit late for work, i hustled through the revolving doors that emited the blue ammonia odor of fresh windex. i entered the swirling nightmare of glass, (i am terrified of someone trying to get into the same wedge of door as i...can we say "claustrophobic"?) and dashed towards an elevator i almost surely was destined to miss. the lift must have been sympathetic to me- the little blond girl it sensed was NOT starting her day with a smile on her face- because it kindly stretched its metal arms wide open long enough to welcome me in with along with three other corporate ants , stifly standing in their crisply creased suits.

thinking that i had just made it, i stood quietly in the front corner of the elevator, and stared blankly at the glowing orange buttons, with the same "i'm-in-a-rush-and-too-busy-to-wait-for-anyone-else-to-board-this-lift" tight-lipped look on my face as my companion ants. just as the doors of the elevator were about to close, with about 4 inches left between its giant metal panels, we all let out a startled gasp of horror as a creamy little hand with screaming magenta fingernails darted through. thankfully, the reliable laser-sensor prevented the tiny little fingers from being severed, and brightly-colored tips from being strewn, bleeding at our feet. instead, a small woman of about twenty-five years and five feet tall makes her entrance into our miserable metal concubine, moca-brown hair pulled tightly back, freckled face smiling, and saphire eyes sparkling, laughing at her almost-amputee experience. said hand was now busy rustling around inside a white plastic bag that its left companion clutched tightly.

"that was brave of you." an ant in the back remarked, aggravated anntenae twitching at being made even a moment later for whatever 9am conference-call his secretary on the 25th floor had waiting for him. "not really," she jokingly answered back, "if my hand had been crushed, i'd have just sued, and then i'd have enough money to not have to come here every morning." "yes, but you wouldn't have your hand," a bulbous female ant in a very short but very ugly blue speckled wool skirt pointed out dryly. i just smiled (for the first time that morning) as cheery little miss magenta-nails shrugged and proceeded to reveal what she had previously been retrieving form the white plastic bag. it was a strawberry. not just your run-of-the-mill average strawberry, but a round, ripe, red thing of rare proportions. not only was it the largest strawberry i had ever seen, but it looked like it was about to burst with swollen, succulent, juicy yumminess. "anyone want one?" she offered. it being a personal and steadfast rule, ground into my impressionable young mind at the tender age of five, not to take food from strangers, i hesitated. no one answered her. the woman, not seeming to care that she was being ignored, and after having made the polite offer, began the feast of the giant berry. you could actually hear, smell, and almost taste the perfectly-ripened fruit as she slowly bit into it, savoring it's natural sweetness and taking care not to let any of the juices escape down her chin or *gasp* drip onto the blandly-carpeted elevator. it took until floor 27 for her to ingest the entire thing, and my mouth watered the entire ride up. i remembered the half of a grapefruit i had prepared before leaving the house, nestled in my bag, and wistfully wished it were a zip-lock full of strawberries.

the other three ants had all been spat out of the elevator at their respective floors by this point, but the sour taste of them lingered. she had started on strawberry #2, when i finally spoke up. "that looks good. i've got a grapefruit in my bag. it's old. it's probably not even sweet anymore." what a moronic, dry, pointless, uninspiring elevator conversationalist she must have thought me to be! is it a rule to exhibit a violent case of explosive verbal diarrhea when on one of these things? regardless of what she thought of my stellar attempt at elevator-chat, she must have felt sorry for me, my stringy wet hair, and the bland grapefruit i had to look forward to. she smiled warmly, and didn't just offer me a strawberry this time, no. she thrust it at me deciding, "here you need this. have a good day." and then she was gone in a gust of freckles and and berries at floor 31. i stood there, speechless, with the desired berry, the forbidden fruit, in the palm of my hand.

somewhere between there and my desk i took the first of four bites that would be required to finish the whole thing, eventually leaving nothing but a sad little green tuft of leaves. as i sat in my cube in a giant anthill in philadelphia, on the east coast of north america, in the north-western hemisphere of the earth revolving around a star in the milky way as the universe slowly expanded, i cherished one of life's simple little pleasures.

and the grapefruit wasn't so bad, either.

2003-04-09T16:33:00.000-04:00

okay. i think i am getting the hang of this thing. i'm still not quite so sure why the "archives" are messed up, but i'm determined to figure it out.

so i'm getting ready to leave my grey, doldrum cubicle for the day. oh darn. i am off to a dedication ceremony for some gallery at my alma mater, drexel university, where i will be singin' with my girls in the treblemakers. hopefully, since i'm now begining to understand this new and wonderful world of blogging, i will be able to provide more entertaining quirky quips later on.

peace.

2003-04-09T13:09:00.000-04:00

i'm trying to figure out all this computer-type HTML junk that i learned so long ago in one of my interactivity classes. needless to say, i don't remember much. maybe i was taking a term-long nap freshman year? it's quite possible. i took a snooze once that lasted from 1pm to 2pm, mondays, wednesdays and fridays, september through march. hmmm... oh yes! both of my computer programming classes. now, let's try to figure out how i got 'A's in the aforementioned courses, but can't figure out how to change my font style here. *sigh* lets see if this works.

2003-04-09T12:21:00.000-04:00

well, well. this is it. i've gone and done it. i now have a blog. i've been reading my dear friend peter for quite some time now. when he started blogging less, i began to miss his freely flowing recaps of events that make up an otherwise ordinary day, his opinionated music reviews, and his general (yet sometimes amazingly specific) oulook on life. i read through all his archives (whew!) and told him i needed some new material. "write more often!" i pleaded. then, thinking i was getting all logical and responsible, encouraged, "peter, if you don't start doing more free writing again, you're going to lose your knack for it." i know this would never happen. peter is a naturally gifted writer, and naturally gifted people don't just up and loose their knack for their talent. but, practice does make perfect, and anyone who's read the boy before knows how perfect he would *like* to be.

then i got to thinking. i am miss perfectionism. and i used to write a lot. really. creative stuff. sort of. at least, that's what i've been told. now, being sucked in by the world of corporate america, i need a venue to stretch my verbose wings. it's difficult for me to find any time to do any free writing of my own, between spending my days in a cubicle and my nights at countless rehersals of various shapes and sizes... but the least i can do is take my own advice and start writing more, to avoid loosing a knack for something i once jumped into without a second thought, spending hours immersed in words- sometimes forgetting to come up for air and loosing myself there. hopefully this will be a good way for me to get all the words out that have been cooped up for far too long. and away we go...