smart (car).

I am seriously considering buying a SmartCar. As in I have looked into all possible pricing and style options, as well as calculated what my payment plan would be. I have also read endless literature on safety statistics and vehicle specs. I can't find anything bad about it at all. When I proposed the idea to my mom she was like "You can only fit two people in it! What if you have to haul something?" Well, I have considered this and I realized something--not only do I almost NEVER travel in my car with anyone other than myself, but the only time in the history of me driving that I can recall loading up my car for any reason is when I have moved somewhere--to a different apartment, home for the summer, or into or out of a dorm. As of now, I am not going to be moving for at least 5 years--and even when I do, I'm pretty sure I can figure something out. I guess the car itself hasn't really reached cool status yet in the US, but what the hell, the trend isn't going to start itself--I just hope I won't have any giant truck owners tailing me on the interstate in a display of masculine dominance (read: aggressive ignorance). So yeah, I'm thinking that within the next few weeks I'll make the reservation online, and use the year that it takes to be made to save up for a down payment. Did I mention that the design I am looking at costs $13,000?

i'm listening to del amitri. it is a good day.

I have always suspected that I am the type of shallow person who experiences a life-affirming reaction to being given more money for the same job. However, it was never confirmed until yesterday when I received a raise (finally). I was happy when I found out about it of course, but after that my day inexplicably became happier and more interesting. I walked outside to find the weather sunny and agreeable, as opposed to hot, humid, and disgusting like it had felt less than a half hour before. The normally bitchy barista at the fake Starbucks in the MUSC cafeteria seemed much more mellow than she had earlier the same day. They were serving gyros at lunch. And then, as if god were saying 'yes, your day CAN get better', there was a random dude outside in the horseshoe selling fresh kettle corn (or kettle korn, however you prefer).

One might argue that these events have nothing to do with my raise. They would be wrong.

I have a friend here at work who doesn't believe in dinosaurs. One day I was talking about how when I was little I wanted to be an archaeologist (even before Jurassic Park after which everyone, my dad included, wanted to be an archaeologist), and she informed me that she thought dinosaurs were bullshit. It is one of those beliefs held so firmly that no amount of evidence can sway it. Just yesterday there was a huge bed of sauropod and raptor bones uncovered in Utah, and when I sent her the link she replied with "they are such fabulous, mythical creatures".
Normally I don't care what other people do and don't believe, but for some reason this really gets under my skin. It's to the point where I act as a sort dinosaur evangelist, trying to bring her the Good News of 'holy crap there used to be HUMONGOUS lizards walking around everywhere, why aren't you filled with wonderment and awe'. Unfortunately I can't beat
belief into her with threats of hell and damnation like Christians can.

TGIG (thank god its gloomy)

I feel kind of bad right now because i am sitting here pretending to type something important on my extremely loud keyboard while my sister is outside slaving away laying bricks for our new patio. Before this I was watching a documentary on the Military Channel about the F/A-18 Hornet fighter jet. And before that I was laying in bed listening to David Sedaris and trying to figure out how to pretend that I was asleep for as long as possible to avoid working outside. I think this makes me an asshole. On the other hand, it could just make me a person who doesn't feel working outside first thing in the morning on her first real day off in like two weeks.

Today is actually the perfect day to be outside. It's in the low 80s, (relatively) low humidity, and cloudy. And to me, cloudy is the best part. I realized the other day that I am actually happiest when it rains (just like that garbage song) or is threatening to rain. My benchmates at work think that this is some sort of deeply rooted, asofyet undiagnosed psychological malady, but I think it's just because things are calmer when the sun is hidden. I feel like when its out, people automatically think to themselves "It's sunny! It's a beautiful day!!! CARPE DIEM!!!!" To me, knowing that everyone within the same weather pattern as me is thinking this lends a sunny day a kind of scrambling hysteria, with everyone tearing down the highway towards the beach, their 30 ft. boats weaving and bucking behind them in a disconcertingly unstable way, desperate to partake of solar activities.

On the flip side, when it is cloudy and "depressing", people give themselves permission to stay in, read a book, take a nap, whatever. It's pretty spectacular actually--in a town whose social identity rests on aquatic activities and clear weather, a few clouds and scattered raindrop or two can turn a thriving metropolis into a relative ghost town (downtown seems exempt from this phenomenon as it is more tourist oriented and time is precious no matter what, but once one steps foot off of the peninsula the rules change). This is when I like to go out and accomplish things, because I know that it won't be crowded. I'll wander down the deserted aisles at BiLo, tripping over tumbleweeds and cattle skeletons, searching in vain for the loan cashier whose thankless job it is to man a grocery store on a day where EVERYONE should be inside and unconscious. I'll drive out to the beach to walk and savor the cool salty weather, and residents dragging their outdoor chair cushions inside for protection from the elements will look at me uncomfortably, the way you might regard a person who has climbed to the other side of the protective fence at the apex of a tall bridge. I'll smile, wave, and say "I love this weather!", and at that they will offer me a pained smile and retreat inside, doutlessly wondering if there was anything they could have done to save me from my madness. On my walk back to my car, with my shirt slightly damp due to light rainfall, people slow to a crawl beside me and ask in concerned voices if I need a ride. When I point out my car, clearly visible less than a quarter mile up the road, they will grimace and say "are you SURE..." before driving off, the guilt etched into their faces. Its very easy to feel self concious, to think that maybe I am weird for not being wary of exposing my skin to mysterious water falling from the sky, of all places. But I've converted that energy, and now concentrate on feeling superior to all of those dry, tanned souls. It's nice get pleasure out of something that others dislike. Kind of a "one man's trash is another man's treasure" type mentality.

Aaaaand now I've been sitting here typing for so long that I think the sun is coming out. Crap.

silver lining (with bling)

As sad as I was to see Hillary officially eliminated from potential candidacy on Saturday, I am beginning to feel really encouraged by Obama's emerging shrewdness.

Check it: Obama wins the candidacy, leaving behind many a jilted Hillary supporter along with a somewhat divided democratic party. At this point I think everyone knows that there is too much bad blood for Obama/Hillary to be a dream ticket anymore. So what does he do? He puts Caroline Kennedy at the top of his list of potential VP candidates. Not only is she very intelligent, and not only is she a woman, and not only does everyone think her dad was fucking Obi-Wan Kenobi, but she has almost no drama surrounding her personal or work life. Granted she doesn't have much political experience, but what do VPs really do anyway besides have heart attacks and maim people with buckshot on hunting trips?

On a completely superficial front (which is way more important that any of us would like to admit) she is very attractive and has a perfect little family that has stayed intact for a really long time.

An come one, how good would a "Obama/Kennedy" bumper sticker look? It's like this brilliant combination of progress and nostalgia. I'm being completely manipulated, and I love it!

PS--did I mention that she is the director of the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund??? I am shitting myself with glee right now over how smart he is being.

i'm all better now, but

I got really sick earlier this week for the first time since I was about 7 years old, and during that downtime I was able to do, well, not much of anything. After exhausting Sara's supply of gossip rags (she has actual subscriptions to US Weekly and Star--heaven) I started perusing desperately through our meager library and the only thing I could find that wasn't either suicidally depressing or something I had read 100 times was Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Even though I have a sort of innate dislike of poetry that I have been unable to overcome despite years of effort, I pulled it out and opened it up. And you know, it wasn't half bad. Maybe it was all of the homosexual undertones that made it so interesting, kind like reading a slave letter and trying to pick out references to the underground railroad. Anyway, it was pretty cool.

Oh and I ended up watching Griffin and Phoenix like a bitch. After all that. It was pretty sad, but not horrible like I thought it would be thanks to the good acting (I love Amanda Peet mainly because she reminds me of my old roommate Tina who is easily one of the coolest people alive). Anyway, because of it I also was able to hear a new Patty Griffin song that I hadn't heard before. The reason that I hadn't heard it is that it was in an album called 1000 Kisses, and I had read all of the reviews from Billboard and Rolling Stone, etc saying "it's under-produced" or "the lyrics are too honest", so I decided to skip over it and buy a different album. Well let's just say that I listened to the whole thing and that's the last time I listen to Rolling Stone's opinion on anything. Except maybe if they review the Rolling Stones.

So Marjorie is coming into town for a "girl's weekend" (her words) tomorrow night. It'll be fun, but I am not drinking any cosmos or referring to myself as a "Miranda".