Music Scene: Kino Proby at Empire 12/30/11

Today began leaving the Bilmar Beach Resort in Treasure Island, Florida (3/5 stars) to drive an hour to the Manatee Viewing Center at Tampa Electric (seriously, if you like manatees half as much as Hannah Morrish, you need to go to there. I saw dozens of manatees.) Then it took almost an hour to get to the airport. At the Tampa International Airport, if you're every flying jetBlue, make sure you stop at the Tequilaria and try the Spicy Mango Margarita. Much like the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, it was just right. Cleveland and I waited two hours, took a two and a half hour flight to Boston, waited an hour, then took a two hour bus to Portland. It was the kind of travelling day that makes you want to get straight in bed when you get home, regardless of the appropriateness of the hour.

Instead, I decided to go see Kino Proby at Empire. Kino Proby plays once a year, if we're lucky and much like the Ice Bar at the Portland Harbor Hotel, I'd been meaning to go for years. One member lives in Russia, one in LA, so it's quite an occasion. None of my friends were available; Cleveland was going to bed, Roommate #1 was out of town, Roommate #2 was actually vomiting when I crossed the threshold into the apartment after being in Florida for six days, Mandy was tired and it was too late/short notice to call anyone else. So I went alone.

Here are my tweets from the evening:

Upstairs at Empire, the first people I see are the Food Coma TV crew and half the staff of CIEE. One of the members of Kino Proby saying something in Russian, then in English asked how many people in the room understood him. About half. I approached the bar, intending to dutifully drink a bunch of vodka. There were 10 Russian/Eastern European men ahead of me, half of them wearing leather bomber jackets and the other half with gel in their hair. Once the crowd parted, I realized one of them ordered about 15 shots of Jager. That same guy saw I was waiting and offered me a shot. Holy shit, the shots were ordered with no designated recipients.

Instead of a play by play of the entire evening, here are some quotes:

"Kino Proby is like the U2 of Russia." (Then in my notes I wrote, Kino Proby : Russia :: U2 : Everywhere other than Russia. Yup, I took notes.)

"I know your name, Alex Steed. I wanted to let you know that I'm not scared of you. Two years ago, at this show, I was crazy dancing in the front. I looked up and your face was like, right there- and you were dancing right next to me. It freaked me out. But now I'm not freaked out anymore and I wanted to let you know."

"Russia or Lewiston?"

"That guy is like Michael Jackson meets Marty McFly." Red and black shiny bubble vest, gelled hair, bright white sneakers.

"What's the sexual mood in the room?" "I don't know. But I've accidentally made eye contact with like, ten Russian men. They are like sharks."

"Shot glasses are going down like bullets."

"Out of RedBull!"

"I don't want my fingers cut off with cigar trimmers."*

Kino Proby Live At PCMH Portland, ME from [dog]and[pony] on Vimeo.

It was a great night, and I wish you were all there.

Lastly, a PSA (and I've been meaning to say this for a while). Portland cab drivers: if your light is on, it means you are available for service. If your light is off, it means you are not available for service. If there are people in your car, getting a ride, turn the light off. This will signal to other potential customers that you are nor available.

*There was an incredibly intoxicated woman all over Joe, Andrew and Alex. She kind of looked like Maybe from Arrested Development, but without freckles. Alex called her the Drunk Manic Pixie Dream Girl, or something, but I decided after her very unamused boyfriend/not boyfriend came over and didn't say one word while administering a flawless death stare, she was actually Manic Pixie Nightmare Girl. Maybe it's because Russian is always villified in the movies, but this guy did actually look like he might have been capable of something like cutting fingers off. Disclaimer: I think all people were created equally and I try to not perpetuate stereotypes. Russia is very intriguing and someday I want to go to there.

Blogging for Good: Dress for Success Southern Maine

This week, Corey Templeton of Portland Daily Photo asked a handful of Portland bloggers to take some time out of their busy blogging/holiday schedules and acknowledge a not for profit organization worthy of their attention (and dollars?). 


I could talk about SPACE Gallery, the Telling Room or public radio (some of my favorites and heavy hitters in town), but I know there is an organization that needs my recognition even more: Dress for Success Southern Maine. 

The mission of Dress for Success is to help disadvantaged women re-enter the workforce. 


Picture this: you are interviewing candidates for a position at your awesome company. Someone comes in dishevelment, anxious, and then you found out that she just got out of rehab. Or has been out of the workforce because she's been on welfare and couldn't afford childcare for her kids and work. Or, she was in prison. 


Now picture a confident looking woman who comes in, dressed in appropriate interview attire and of her gap in employment says, "I was out of work for a little while dealing with some personal issues, but I'm focused and ready to get serious about my career. I want to work for your company." That's their goal. They work with women to help them get the confidence they need to succeed in life. It starts with women looking themselves in the mirror, dressed for success. Since their inception, Dress for Success Southern Maine has suited over 1,000 women. 


I have some first-hand experience with the subject matter. My sister is a struggling, single mom. I've been on food stamps since I lost my full-time job last year. Disclaimer, I interned there this fall. However, my internship is technically over and I'm still volunteering because I believe in what we're doing. Sometimes when I update the testimonials on the website, I get a little  teary-eyed. I mean, I'm overly emotional. Just read some of these:

“I found your place to be incredibly wonderful!  Everyone there was sensitive and respectful -- fun, helpful suggestions, laughter making the experience such a positive one!  I have felt so much more confident knowing I had a beautiful new and modern outfit.  Thank you for your help.  It is SUCH an encouraging and confidence boosting place.” "Thank you so much for helping me.  From the time I arrived, it was a great experience and I walked out feeling better about myself.  The people at Dress for Success Southern Maine are so helpful and kind.  Thank you.”

“When I’m in a suit I feel like I’m getting there.  I might not be there yet, but I’m well on my way.”

"Women in active addiction lose so much. When they arrive in treatment with Crossroads, they are addressing many crucial areas of their lives all at once; their addiction, their mental health issues, health problems, family and childcare problems, legal issues and all with limited economic resources. More importantly is the loss of confidence, dignity and hope.   Dress for Success Southern Maine gives the women an opportunity to present themselves at interviews in a way that inspires hope, dignity and confidence. And the kind support that they receive when they go for their "personal shopping" appointment helps them feel a part of the greater community again - or for some, the first time."

Teresa Valliere, Director of Inpatient Services, Crossroads for Women

Collecting and sorting donations, maintaining the organization of the boutique, managing volunteers to be personal shoppers for the clients, planning fundraising events and professional women support groups- these things all take time and money. Donate to Dress for Success Southern Maine here. Learn more about volunteer opportunities here.

My Promos!

I've also been laboring away in the production room at WMPG all semester. Our assignments included making a 45 minute DJ demo, and a 15 minute talk show demo. This might be a little bit confusing, but here are the promos that I made for the demos that I recorded. They are far from perfect, but feature music and shoutouts to some local bands. Sometimes when you're working on a project, be it a painting, an essay, a 50k word novel or a one minute radio promo, you need to stop tweaking and let it go.

Posting audio is something I'd like to do more often, but there have been a lack of recording opportunities lately. Oh right, and my iPhone 3 is so slow it might as well be dialing up to get the internet. (I might upgrade soon, I might downgrade... trying to prioritize wants vs. needs.)

The Mixtape Collective, my pretend show from 5-7 Saturdays on WMPG


The Student Standpoint, an actual podcast at iTunes U.

Since I been goooooone

You know those unbelievably annoying Geico commercials that are always on Hulu? No? There's one that starts, "Did you know Geico could save you twenty percent on car insurance? Have you been living under a rock?" and then a guy who has actually been living under a rock comes out, sees the billboard and goes, "No way!"

I've kind of been that guy.

As of right now, this moment, I have three, count 'em THREE jobs, an internship and a few days of completing a fifteen credit semester. I'm wiped. out! OH WAIT! There were also three stupid weeks in November in which I tried to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for those of you who are 'with it'.) After only 30,000 words, I decided to focus on the work I was actually being graded on. (Writing will resume after my last class this Wednesday). After all that, I barely had the mental capacity for Hart of Dixie, let alone more sophisticated comedies like Community or the Office.

I was planning on doing a redesign complete with a FAQ page and some other stuff for my first post after this elongated, unintentional hiatus. But as I was trying to will myself to sleep so I can make it into the office at 9 a.m., I realized that if I was going to be losing sleep because of things I haven't done, I should stay up and do stuff.

There's good news, though. Soon, I'll be back with a few posts about non-profit management, the Big Lebowski, a woman who went crazy on LinkedIn, and maybe a few other things.

In the meantime, I have a few things to share:

1)  I made a professional portfolio website for myself: amandapleauwrites.com. I got an A. There's also a pronunciation guide to my last name, in case you had it wrong all these years and want to feel bad about it.

2) I'm contributing to Get Vintaged, a website some classmates and I put together for our Senior Seminar. This is a promotional video we put together that I sound kind of weird in. But I also wrote some of the shop profiles and a blog.


GetVintaged.com Promo from CMS Videos on Vimeo.


3) I've been blogging over at dressforsuccesssouthernmaine.blogspot.com

4) I'm looking forward to a trip to Florida in a few weeks to meet half of Cleveland's family!! Pop-pop!

What's up with you? Any book/music recommendations? Year-end wrap up lists I should know of?

Two Princes

If my cat Baby was able to like, type, she'd dedicate this song to all of you in honor of the Spin Doctors playing at Port City Music Hall tonight.

"If you want to call me Baby, just go ahead now..."

I ride the Greyhound Bus

I'm on a Greyhound bus right now.

Let me tell you. If you didn't already know, avoid taking the Greyhound bus at all costs (and it's not because that one time some guy shot himself in the head.)

Two nights ago I tried to purchase my ticket online. Portland to Lewiston same-day round trip. But the website told me that I couldn't get a ticket for that schedule online, that I should modify my search. There are like, three buses a day that go to Lewiston, so that wasn't an option. Defeated, I decided to try again the next day.

Last night, I again failed at purchasing the ticket online, so I figured I'd call the number provided to try and get a ticket that way. Fifteen minutes and several attempts navigating the dial by number menu, I finally reached someone. Nope. TEN DOLLAR unadvertised service fee for purchasing tickets over the phone. So I asked Juanita or whatever if she could explain why tickets weren't available online. She connected me with web support, who tried to sell me the ticket over the phone and didn't mention the service fee until I brought it up. THANKS FOR NOTHING, WEB SUPPORT! Then he offered to try and buy the ticket online for me.

So this morning, I roll out of bed, bright and early, and even manage to form coherent sentences before 7:30 at the coffeeshop. I make it to the Greyhound station, where I'm supposed to be buying my ticket, and it's locked. The bus is coming in 15 mins and there's a small crowd of poor, pathetic Greyhound losers with hodgepodge luggage and fucked up teeth. I decide I will fight them all for a ticket, if need be. My gigantic laptop computer will act as a shield against their blows. 

The bus pulls in and  we're told that the reason the terminal isn't open is because there is no power. What? Uh. The biggest hospital in the state is pretty much next door and I'm almost positive I saw lights on in the convenience store across the street. The driver, Mr. Moore, tells us that if we don't have a ticket, we can get on if we surrender a form of id, which will be returned to us in exchange for a ticket. While other simpletons struggle with the concept of not having a ticket but allowed on anyway, I wonder if replacing my State ID is less than a one-way ticket...

A broad-shouldered black man with a deep voice and a doo rag has been sitting behind me the whole time. He's been on the phone with his baby mamma or something since 8:00. They're just chatting now, but when he got on the bus he said, defiantly, "I ain't gunna ride dis fuggin bus no more. Das it."  Though I don't really understand who the eff is up at 8 a.m. to have a 30 min chit chat over the phone, I couldn't have put it better myself.

(I hope this post doesn't offend anyone except Greyhound. I am SO GRUMPY and I am in dire need of ANOTHER COFFEE AND A TISSUE. And really, I'm not so different than these people. My mom should probably buy me breakfast.)

Grand Falls Hut

A few days ago I went on a little adventure with the Nature Conservancy and Maine Huts and Trails.

Cleveland drove and it was raining the whole way there. A lot. He frowned and sighed for the majority of the  three hour car ride, but for some reason I wouldn't budge. I kept saying things like, "It won't be that bad! Think of this as a challenge, like we're going to feel amazing afterwards. And we're going to be so relieved to get warm in that hut and sit by the fire and drink hot cocoa! We'll only be soaking wet for a few hours!"

WTF was I thinking? I'm still not entirely sure. He even confessed considering offering an alternative plan, like hiding away in a hotel with a hot tub somewhere just to not do it.

It was nice, being at the hut, getting warm, and it actually felt like we earned that Jumbalya with the fruits of our labor... surrounded by hardcore ski/outdoor people who were debating which remote Maine roads were washed out by Hurricane Irene between the Forks, Sugarloaf and Saddleback.

This is a Polyvore set that I made roughly outlining my outfit. Note: my shirt wasn't yellow, it was black and white.

This is what our companions were wearing, with the exception of possibly Maggie, who kept her Ponomo earrings on the whole time.

Just kidding. That's from the Patagonia website.

Here's the hut:

mainehuts.org

 A friend recently told me that I'm outdoorsy now. I said that I didn't have the right gear to be outdoorsy. Seriously. Do you have any idea how much Gortex costs? At one point, when we were packing, Cleveland pulled a hat out of his closet. I said that he should bring the hat, he said he didn't particularly like the hat, thought that it looked sort of stupid. I'll tell you. We both looked sort of stupid in Cleveland's grandfather's beautiful wooden canoe, with our piecemeal outdoor gear (anything not cotton). But that stupid hat definitely kept his head warm and dry.

One of of the other women on the trip, a fundraiser, also paddled to the hut (as opposed to hiked.) Her and her husband run an adventure/coffee business non-profit business and is currently looking for takers on a Costa Rica trip: part sustainable coffee tour, part white water rafting/adventure. She asked me how our paddle was (they literally paddled six miles an hour downstream. That's a lot.) Cleveland and I are new to paddling together- I'm inexperienced at steering, and he's not terribly experienced in a canoe, though in his defense he's done more kayaking and rafting than I have. But we somehow found our groove and we made decent time. Adventure woman seemed genuinely happy for us, then remarked, "They don't call them divorce boats for nothing."

At the end of the second day, my muscles were definitely aching. We paddled 12 miles and hiked about 5. Grand Falls lived up to it's name, and I'm excited to visit Maine Huts and Trails again... when it's sunny. Maybe this winter?

image c.o rangeleysnomobile.com

Joseph Gordon-Levitt does Axl does Gaga

Haven't done a real post in a long time, but until the epic post I finish is ready, here's a GEM of a karaoke video. We've all known for a while that Jimmy Fallon does amazing impressions, but Joseph Gordon-Levitt doing Axl Rose?? This might be the all-time greatest TV karaoke moment.

A League of Their Own

(I'm the green.)

Midcoast Weekend Pt. 1

Cleveland and I stayed in Boothbay Harbor this weekend. Here are some highlights. Lowlights to come.

1.       The berries. We were hiking (ahem, walking) in the La Verna Nature Preserve in Bristol, ME, contemplating the many reasons Dirty Dancing should NOT be remade (more on that to come).  He was burdened with the very serious task of looking out for poison ivy. I can never remember what it looks like- I always think it should be redder and more poisonous-looking. While scouring the underbrush, he found some blackberries. “Hey Amanda! Check this out!” So I ate one…and then like Mandy when she goes to Forever 21- I got the crazy eye. It’s like I had one mission and one mission only. To find! More! Berries! He could have left me on the trail and I probably would’ve been so caught up in my foraging that I wouldn’t have noticed. I could have sustained myself out there for days! Weeks!! It was so badass.  I started trying to remember whether Survivor is still on the air... Feeding yourself with berries from the woods is so cool.

Here's a map. What's not pictured is the contemplation point:
 


2.       Cleveland’s family was visiting a few weeks ago, and they had to cancel the kayak trip they were going to take. They left him with the voucher. So we went kayaking! Our guide, Damon was a typical river guide, super chill, really knowledgeable.  He even explained the dreaded headwind that I always seem to be paddling against whenever I try to paddle in the afternoon. Attean Pond, I’m looking at you! I’m happy to say that according to Damon, I’m “a natural” at kayaking and excited to check ‘palindrome boating activity’ off of my bucket list.

(no pictures, we were too busy paddlin' for our souls.) 

3.       When Cleveland’s family was visiting, they also took a Hardy Boat to Monhegan Island. Every time the Hardy Boat makes a trip, they ask their passengers to fill out a comment card about their trip, and enter those people into a drawing for a free Hardy Boat ride. They’ve really got the incentive part of survey-based research figured out. Anyway, Cleveland won a free trip! We decided to go on the Puffin cruise to Eastern Egg Island, the southern most Puffin breeding ground. Let me tell you, the cruise was awesome. We needed binoculars to see the birds, so the awesomeness stems from the narration by Dr. Stephen W. Kress from the National Audubon Society and the Project Puffin. There weren't too many birds, since the breeding season was nearly over, but we did see a few hanging out in the ocean. 
 
Dr. Kress was so excited about the Puffins, floating near the boat he’d say, “Just look at the beautiful lighting on that bird. Oh. Just beautiful.” He said this like four times for every bird we saw. Which was maybe six. Or the same two birds three times. I don’t know. But I had no idea Puffins were so adorable. I happened to learn all kinds of interesting Puffin facts, so email me at amandajennifer at gmail dot com if you're interested in hearing a rant.

BABY PUFFIN!

And look at these guys!

4.        Shaw's Fish & Lobster Wharf Restaurant. My friend’s dad thinks that no one should ever order lobster at a restaurant, and I sort of think he’s right. With the exception of places like Shaw’s, however, where you will actually see the boats bringing in the day’s catch next to the deck you’re eating on. The restaurant is on a wharf, hence ‘Wharf Restaurant,’ which I think sort of negates the idea that lobster is inappropriate to eat at a restaurant. I still felt like I was covered up to my elbows with salt water after eating it, but it was worth it. So fresh, so delicious. 

There was also a bar we did not get a chance to hit, but look at this weird thing: 

 It says you need to be born in 1994 to drink at that bar. WTF! I'm no math wizard, the only reason I caught it was because I was born 10 years earlier and I am NOT 31!

Text from my new roommate. Her bed hasn't arrived yet...

Rob Sheffield is Awesome

I'm in the middle of reading and thoroughly enjoying Rob Sheffield's latest book, Talking to Girls about Duran Duran.

He just recounted running into a friend from high school a few years after graduation. They talked about Morrissey and baseball for hours, but never saw each other again.

I thought it was strange to spend an evening having so much fun with someone i didn't know so well, and not to hang out after that, because i was too young to know that adult life is full of accidents and interrupted moments and empty beds you climb into and don't climb out of.

Well said, Sheffield. Well said.

The Photo Essay and Steel Dragon

As I just mentioned in the previous post, I have a crapload of work to do this month.

One thing I just finished is a photo essay, which I accidentally made into like, my diary. We presented in class today. Today, everyone seemed pleased that the class was finished. Although for the most part, it was one of the most engaging classes I've had at USM thusfar. It was only ten of us, and we met three times a week for over three hours a day. There was only one "token" traditional student in the class, everyone else was older, transferred or whatever and we all had our ridiculous life stories to share. Our discussions were lively, bordering on rowdy, and it's safe to say at least half of the class left today as better, more well-rounded students.

I found a site that would let me share the power point presentation that I made. The only reason I'm doing this is to juxtapose it with the presentation that happened right before mine. Malcolm's essay was more of a wham-bam movie about his life-long connection with Sebago Lake, including old family photos, history of the lake and history of his Armenian family. His presentation had the feel of a summer blockbuster movie trailer. My presentation actually killed the conversation when it was finished.

Here is the song accompanying Malcolm's presentation. You only have to listen for about a minute or two to get the gist.



And here's my sad, silent presentation. It helps if you click the full screen mode. The quality isn't great, but I'm no technology wizard. Here you go:

My Photo Essay

Fluff: It's What's for Dinner

Here's one for all you foodies.

It's summer, a time for goofing off, hitting the pool, the beach. Drinking margaritas, mojitos, and other refreshing adult beverages brought to us frigid New England bitches* from warmer climates. Instead, I am trying really hard to graduate in May, and part of gittin' er done means two four week classes. While I'm working 20 hours a week at my work-study job, writing crazy letters to the editor, make it to the beach, and fulfill many wedding-related obligations. Oh, and the Bachelorette. I'm bummed Ames is gone, but I'm really starting to root for JP. What? She's from the County. Gotta keep it real.

Let me break it down for you. Each semester is 15 weeks. So taking one class during a four-week session is the roughly the equivalent of taking three. Taking two is like taking six, which is eighteen credits. A normal student takes between 12 and 15 credits. Over 18 is considered "an overload." That's what I'm doing now. During summer. But I guess it's technically finals week and I'm able to write this blog... so....

One time, I also found myself taking 15 credits and working a part time job. I was probably as poor then as I am now, though back then I was under 21 and still a non-drinker. At Montserrat College of Art, somehow, I didn't understand financial aid, credit hours, or the fact that I was moving away to go to college at a place that didn't have a fucking cafeteria. WTF, Montserrat? It was kind of insane, now that I think about it. Probably more work than I've ever done in my life. Drawing and painting homework has the propensity to take way, way longer than writing a paper or reading a book. Trust me. I've never stayed up until 3:00 a.m. because I felt like an essay wasn't done. Or because I wouldn't have the right light to finish the essay in the morning.

But because I'd never lived away from home and therefore had never really prepared any of my own meals, let alone gone shopping for them, my food became like, abstract art or something. Here's a recipe for something I ate all the time.

Prep time:
5 min
Ingredients:
2 slices Pepperidge Farm Cinnamon Swirl Raisin Bread
1/3 cucumber, peeled and sliced thin.
1 tbsp Marshmallow Fluff
1 slice cheddar cheese
Directions:
Carefully slather Fluff unto both slices of bread. Arrange cucumbers on one slice, cover with cheese, then the other slice. Firmly press the sandwich down with your clean hand, as Fluff and cucumbers are slippery. Enjoy!

I'm not kidding. Pepperidge Farm was like, a luxury that I didn't know I could afford myself. We bought local at my house, sort of. Country Kitchen all the way.

It's hard to say whether I could ingest this marvelous concoction today. I'll let you know if I decide to try.

*a genuine Southern gentleman said that to me once, about women here; instead of comforting him, I laughed and said it was true.

Tweet this!

I'm not even sure how I started following this guy.

Boy Band Crushes

I hate talking about dreams. I mean, I really hate it. Unless you can sum it up to two sentences, or somehow make it relevant to something tangible, seriously. Shut up about it.

I'm going to break that rule right now, sort of, in order to tell you that a few nights ago I dreamed that I was walking down the corridor of the Portland Jetport, which looked more like the atrium of a giant mall than an airport. I saw Justin Timberlake waiting in line in a small office. He was in disguise with a dark, curly afro wig. He winked at me.

Then I saw this: Reasons Why Boybands Were Better in the 90s via Hairpin, and remembered that dream. I realized that in the 90s, I always had a difficult time figuring out which member of N'Sync was actually the most attractive. That's because none of them were. Like a good wine, Timberlake got better with age and and some incredibly funny skits on Saturday Night Live.

  (Don't hate- they were all over MTV, which was the center of my universe then. I didn't find out about the Velvet Underground or the Magnetic Fields until I was well into my 20s.)

 I think I'm going to have some funny/awesome stories for you all soon, I promise. #pleasedonthate #iknowmyblogkindasucksnow #tthroughthebestoftimesthroughtheworstoftimes #throughnixonandthroughbush

Albert Maysles: Ladykiller

For those of you who don't get the opportunity to spend a lot of time with me in real life, sometimes I'm incredibly sensitive. Like, cry at a Kleenex commercial sensitive. Mandy likes to point out the time Spirited Away left me almost hysterical, when a train didn't stop for the little girl, it just blew right by. It happens once in a while when I find something poinient or particularly moving, and these days if I start crying for no real reason, I just get excited because my contacts will last another hour. It just happened again, but this time it was a really touching, awesome story and I thought I might share.

I'm taking a full course load this summer, which means this summer is the opposite of last summer. Last summer was the beach, partying, eating out, lazing around,  and this summer I'm inside almost all the time. Either in class, at my work study job, or doing computer-centric homework. Tonight, I'm listening to interviews with famed documentary filmmaker Albert Maysles for a research project.

Albert, currently

Albert (left), David (right) during the filming of Salesmen

Albert and his late brother David are responsible for Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter, Muhammad and Larry, as well as one of the first feature documentaries Salesman, and like five films about Christo and Jeanne-Claude, who I love. I picked the Maysles out of a hat, and it was really lucky. Not only are the subjects of their films actually of interest to me (I met Muhammad Ali once, and I'm currently in the middle of Keith Richards's autobiography), but Albert seems like a really great role model, a stand up guy and he's from Boston. There is a website called Albert Maysles's Glasses, dedicated to how awesome his signature frames are (Barney's even issued a limited edition Albert Maysles's frame.) Here are two quotes from interviews I've been listening to from ViceTV and NPR:

“In this culture of ours which is supposed to be so open and so open-minded, I think that we have this protective instinct. If someone is going to open their hearts and minds to another person then they’re vulnerable. ‘Oh my god, oh my god they’re vulnerable! They’re going to get hurt.’ I think the healthiest thing you can do is share your thoughts with another person.”  

“I’ve ended up with all of these films and over the years, they’ve all held up. There are so many things that documentaries can teach us.”

Anyway, he was talking about how Salesman, his first feature with his brother didn't get any deals or whatever, so they rented a movie theater in order to have a screening. This is in the 60s, there was no March of the Penguins, Bowling for Columbine or whatever, even before opening weekends were a thing. Documentaries didn't have a place yet. So after the film David and Albert, Al to his friends, were standing at the exit. Everyone was coming by to shake hands and congratulate them on such a fine job with the film. Al noticed there was one person, a woman lingering in the theater, the very last to leave. Then he noticed that she had been crying, a lot. THEN he was struck by how attractive she was... and that's how he met his wife. NO JOKE! She was moved to tears by how amazing his film was and then they got married.

Sometimes I wish my life was so simple.... actually, that means I'd probably be married to this guy.

I hope everyone is having a slightly more enjoyable, slightly less productive summer than I am.

A Brief Update

I think we can all agree that sometimes it can be difficult to stay motivated in the summer. Personally, all I want to do is sit on the beach and drink a rum and Pina Colada flavored seltzer (the new WICKED Skinnie Girl cocktail. I know that's not how it's spelled but it's also trademarked the other way) Instead of doing that, however, I've been doing all sorts of things- like manning the phone at the Internships and Career Placement Office, dissecting mackerels in the Marine Biology lab that I'm retaking, and choosing to write about seeing the Decemberists for my Music Appreciation class, instead of an actual classical music ensemble like I was supposed to. There's a roommate switcheroo in the works, and I seem to find myself helping multiple friends mend their broken summer hearts (by singing Careless Whisper lyrics until I'm told to stop.) Yes, this summer is/will be decidedly more tame than the last few thanks to classroom obligations and more weddings than I expected. I'm happy for you all, really.

In other news, a recent meeting with my academic adviser sent my head spinning. I'm doing an internship this fall, I guess. At this moment, choosing an internship seems a little bit like deciding what the next five years of my life is going to be (or not be.) Do I choose an internship with a likely career path to follow? Or do I choose an internship that I'll more likely enjoy and have a less solid, um, path? The thought of going out and hitting the pavement, looking for a job is sounds totally crippling in lieu of the Bayside Bowl incident. But doing a job I don't love doesn't sound that appealing either.

Anyway, I thought I might do a quick roundup of some things that have been keeping me just distracted enough to get by.

I just went to the premiere of TV Show episodes 2 & 3. They don't seem to be online yet, but here's episode number one:


TV SHOW Episode 1 from Shoot Media on Vimeo.



Alec Baldwin's Twitter (@alecbaldwin). Here's an example from a few days ago. Read it from the bottom up:

Hello Giggles is a website partially founded by Zooey Deschanel. It's a bunch of awesome ladies writing about all kinds of awesome stuff, neatly organized by category. This post about nail polish got me hooked.

Occasionally looking at people's 'sets' and answering Style questions on Polyvore.com.

Dispatch Magazine has been pumping out information about music and film in Maine so fast I can barely read it.

The new season of Weeds just started, and the season of Treme is just ending.

Sending this recipe for a homemade Arnold Palmer to other awesome bloggers: Make one cup (8oz) of tea with two black tea bags and one tablespoon of honey. (I use honey from Urban Farm Fermentory, because I hear that local honey helps with allergies.) Let it cool while you brush your teeth/pack your lunch/get dressed/whatever. Add a cup of lemonade from the Santa Cruz/Newman's Own/premade or frozen lemonade already in your refrigerator. Then eight or so ice cubes, however many you need to cool this thing and fill your container.

Look at this great website: Creative Portland.

What've you been up to? What am I missing?

Best Furniture Ever

Cleveland went abroad a little while ago, and this is a conversation we had when he first arrived (more or less):

Cleve: The hotel I'm staying at is "sustainable." The power comes from windmills and solar panels, and everything is set up to create less waste. What the website didn't mention is there are all these little signs all over the room and hotel that address you like the furniture is talking to you. For example the little table that I am typing on says this: "I am strong, smooth, and delicious: I'm made from recycled coffee cups. Which means I'm both kind to the planet and caffeinated. But please don't lick me. I'm already in a relationship with the chair."

We had a pretty good laugh, but I got worried when he repeated this one, the bathroom soap, which is in dispenser- like a public bathroom: "I last longer and love you better. Maybe you've flirted with those little bottles of hotel soap and shampoo? They soon run out on you. It is time that you had some personal care from a big reliable source. Baby, I can keep dispensing all through your stay and beyond."

Between being mistaken multiple times for a genuine European and his hotel room putting more effort into seducing him than I do, it was easy to wonder if he might never come back.

Rest assured, though reader- eventually he came home, and our reunion was full of smiles and hugs. I'll have to remember to get him one of these so he sticks out more:

So long, Facebook suckers.

It's been a long couple of days.

You know how I mentioned something about a wedding I'm going to be in? Well, it's looking like 2011 is actually going to be the year of four weddings and a funeral. In the midst of everything, I decided to do something I'd been thinking of doing for a few months now... No, I didn't get another tattoo, go off birth control or dye my hair pink.

I deactivated my Facebook account. Many of my friends have done it, some temporary, some not. I told one such friend who'd left and come back and she said that it's something people do when they go through a breakup. For me, it was a different kind of ending which helped me put things into perspective. It's been about a week. Here are some things I miss:

• Using Facebook like a community message board, i.e. who can help with this, who has this, what do I do about this, etc. It was pretty efficient.
• Stalking people I don't know. I'll admit, I look up people all the time. People who write things, people who tweet things, friends of friends. Figuring out who knows who. 
• Immediate access to all of my pictures. I downloaded a gigantic file which supposedly contains all of my pictures and messages and stuff, but it's still sitting on my desktop, waiting to be organized. 
• Event invites. Not all of them, just the ones I actually sort of maybe wanted to go to.
• And the jokes. Sometimes my friends can be really funny. 
• Oh, and the traffic, here to this blog. It wasn't totally huge, but people actually clicked on the links I posted... makes me feel loved.

Here's what I don't miss:

• Random chats from people I didn't want to talk to/had nothing to say and were just bored.
• Being constantly irritated. Someone complaining about mother's day, or having no one to go out with. I've always tried to be mindful of what I posted. Same with Twitter and this stupid thing- I want my posts to have some relevance, either help or humor or awesomeness... like, look at this awesome recipe I made! You should try it! I know that not everyone cares about the shoes I just bought or where I'm going or what I'm doing, but at least it's better than complaining. Actually, I guess I'm complaining right now, but I'm complaining about people complaining. At my old job, we used to talk about the negativity monster, and now a negative attitude can be contagious. It got so bad we even named him Negator.
• All of the time I wasted reading people's comments, looking at their vacation photos, etc. Now that I'm on Twitter, a lot of people post the same things on their FB and their Twitter, so I was even getting a double dose. Turns out, I can live without hearing what my bartender is doing about her flat tire and that a friend in high school just got a pedicure. I'm now way ahead in the online classes I'm taking, and there's a lot more internet time for Funny or Die, Huffington Post- I've even started reading a handful of new blogs and I think I'm going to be starting a new, companion blog to Misadventures soon. 
• Relationship drama. Not that I had it, but it's like this. 
• Worrying about people tagging drunk/unflattering photos of me. 

I can't say that this is a brief hiatus or a forever departure, but so far I'm sort of enjoying it. If I was still on FB, last night I would've posted about how smart I felt for figuring out I could get kitty litter shipped to my house for FREE by Amazon.comm, and that sleeping on clean sheets feels awesome.

See? Unnecessary.

Questions I ask Myself at the Gym

For the most part, I'm completely silent at the gym, with the exception of a phone call or two here and there. These are some of the questions I ask myself over and over when I'm alone with my thoughts and an elliptical. 

Does anyone care if I'm on the phone right now?

Will anyone notice/think I'm insane if I dance-run?

Does this sports bra make me look skinnier because it squashes my boobs, making my figure more of a column than an hourglass?

How long would it take paramedics to get here if I pass out? This place is a fucking maze.

Is is possible that these men aren't actually here to lift weights and are just hanging out?

If I fall off this thing, which would be worse: the shame, or the injury?

How much of a tuition increase would we need to get some TVs up in this bitch?

WHY does that man always make eye contact with me?

What kind of music does the trick here- GnR, Hercules and Love Affair, Cult Maze, Katy Perry?

Will I be reprimanded if I don't write my time on the white board? If I go over the 30 minute time limit?

Would my relationship be in danger in Cleveland happened to see how disgusting/ridiculous I look during/after my workout?

If none of the individual items in my locker smell, why is the collective smell so bad?

Do these sneakers suck?

Why can't the water pressure at my house be this good??

Raaaaaapture.

Kevin inspired me with his own End of the World mix so much that I had to try my hand at one.

When composing the list, though, I decided to make it a narrative of someone about to experience the Rapture. Then I had to decide, was this person a sinner? Would this person be leaving any loved ones behind? There are probably about a zillion songs about being naughty or love lost, so I decided that my hypothetical person would be Catholic, well, me. Catholics can basically sin all they want, live with the nagging guilt, and as long as they apologize to God and ask for forgiveness, into Heaven it is.*

(*I'm sure the crazy Rapture zealots would probably argue this point, but this is pretty much how I was raised, so I'ma go for it. Plus it lends a bit of drama to the mix.)

Multiple songs off of Brenda's EP would've been appropriate to use, but their songs weren't on the playlist website. And a lot of the songs on George Harrison's All Things Must Pass would've been appropriate, too: My Sweet Lord, What Is Life, Awaiting On You All, Beware of Darkness, All Things Must Pass, Isn't it a Pity, Hear Me Lord, Out of the Blue. 

Anyway, here is my Rapture Concept Album mix thing.

1. Glee Cast, "Friday." Cereal, buses, fun fun fun, Partyin' partyin' yeah. Sounds pretty much like my life, as-is.

2. George Harrison, "What Is Life." This is my existential crisis song, the realization that the Rapture might actually be coming, not knowing what will happen.

3. David Bowie, "Golden Years." Remember all of the awesome times. "Nights are warm and the days are young... Nothings gonna touch you in these golden years." Life has been great, whatever life is. I mean, that's what people say happens when you're faced with death- a flashback. This subtly danceable track also appears in A Knight's Tale. Heath Ledger, RIP.

4. George Michael, "Careless Whisper" Oh, wait a minute. I don't want to die. I don't want to never dance again, the way I danced with you. Cue saxophone.

5. Chicago, "Hard to Say I'm Sorry." God, It's me. I know I've been a little shit and I want to apologize for all of my wrongdoings, but seriously. I don't feel sorry and misbehaving has been really fun... What's that? Oh, yup, you're right. Father, forgive me for my sins. It has been approximately thirteen years since my last confession. I hope you're sitting in a comfortable pew because this going to take a long time.

6. Jeff Buckley, "Hallelujah." Token six-minute spiritual track.

7. The Kinks, "This Time Tomorrow." What's it going to be like? Death, heaven, afterlife? This is something I've always been scared to think about. The uncertainty of it all is just too much, it can be all-consuming. "I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm going to see-heee-eee."

8. Spoon, "I Summon You." Woo hoo! I'm in! See you all in Heaven, bitches!

9. Devo, "Gut Feeling." OMG it's going to happen.(I wanted to work out Devo and Kinks together as a little Wes Anderson homage, but it didn't quite work out.)

10, 11. Blondie, "Rapture" and Rapture "Whoo! Alright- Yeah... Uh-huh." Two awesome songs with the word 'Rapture' to indicate in the timeline that the Rapture happened. In my version of the Rapture, it lasts like five minutes and not five months. Please note that a dummy in my Media Studies class tried to argue which came first, rap or hip hop, when we were discussing the history of music and this Blondie tune came up as an example of an early mainstream rap anthem.

12. Talking Heads "Heaven." Everyone has a different idea of what Heaven is. I think this place sounds pretty good. 

13. Fleet Foxes, "Quiet Town." Everything is quiet because everyone is either dead or hangin' with the apostles and saints and stuff.

14. Daniel Johnston, "Devil Town." A reflection on the life I had been leading, "I was living in a Devil town."

Animal Shelter PSA

I need to take a second to speak my mind about something that I've felt very passionate about for a long time but have only expressed my views to a few close friends who would listen. It's unusual for me to diverge from the casual, entertaining nature of this here web log, but I just need a soap box for a second. 

The first cat we ever had growing up was an orange tabby that one of my father's friends found starving in a snowbank. I was probably 8 or 9, and decided to name him Mittens. Original, I know, and much better than Sargent, the name my dad wanted to give him because of the stripes on his shoulders. Mittens and I bonded right away, like I was some kind of cat whisperer. Next came Patches, who we adopted as a kitten from a friend of my mother's. Both of our cats growing up were really great, and I remember how upset my mom was when Mittens got sick and went in the woods to die (he was pretty dignified, for a cat.)

Back at my old non-profit job, one of my coworkers would bring her purebred French bulldog to puppy play time. She recounted a particularly horrible experience, when another dog, "some dumb mutt" got aggressive with her dog.

"Some dumb mutt?" I thought. "Some dumb mutt who was probably rescued from a cardboard box only to live in a kennel, seeing the light of day for half an hour if it's lucky? I'm sorry, but how much exactly did you pay for your stupid inbred dog? And how many dogs at the shelter could that amount of money have fed and or neutered?"

Of course, I didn't say these things, because I liked the people I was working with, as well as the bulldog. But I just don't understand. People who pay exorbitant amounts of money for their pets have either clearly never set foot inside a shelter or are too impatient, vain or heartless to give a crap. (I'm sure that's not completely true, but I can't get over it.) The maid of honor of the wedding I'm in this fall was just gifted a $650 kitten. No, the kitten isn't made of gold and it's very poorly behaved.

I was just looking at all of the area animal shelter websites and when I came across the Success Stories at the Greater Androscoggin Humane Society, I read like, three before I was moved to tears by the touching letters. In a lot of cases, the it was the people, not just the pets who were in need. They were filling voids in each other's lives.

Cleveland spent some time working at the animal shelter when he was between professional jobs. He said that working there was emotionally exhausting, referring to something he called "shelter burnout." Surrounded by the disparity of sad lonely animals and irreverent, careless former owners all day, it's not surprising. Sometimes the first person to arrive in the morning would find a box at the door, and have to proceed with caution- not knowing if it was a box of food, blankets, kittens or snakes.

Seriously, look at this PSA and tell me you don't tear up a little. It makes me want to run home and hug my little cat with the enthusiasm of Lennie from Of Mice and Men, just shy of the accidental crushing part.



I may not have the money or the means to contribute as much as I'd like to at our local Animal Refuge League. But I do get the satisfaction of knowing I gave my little love bug a home, and she's happy to be here. Mostly.

Comediennes of Comedy in Bridesmaids

Relationships of all sorts can be tricky. Having a lot of listening, patience and compromise isn't always easy.

Like last Friday, when I was sort of into going to this local comedy thing and Cleveland sort of wasn't. I didn't want to be that person who is always trapped in a love bubble, but I also didn't want to go alone (seemed like no one else was around. Let me rephrase that- Mandy wasn't around.) Cleveland saw my predicament and offered to take me to see Bridesmaids.

I've always thought that Kristin Wiig and her weird chin/neck skin thing was always pretty funny, and this movie certainly wasn't a disappointment. Like many movies with writers/actors attempting to graduate from SNL (Mean Girls, Hot Rod, Anchorman, Blues Brothers...) I laughed out loud. Cleveland laughed out loud. The highlight for me was the joke in which a high schooler tells Kristin Wiig that she looked like "an old mop." Kind of like this:

Anyway, the other funny part about seeing Bridesmaids with Cleveland, besides the fact that he's a man, was that I am a bridesmaid in my childhood best friend's wedding, just like in the movie. I was hanging out with the female portion of the wedding party the following night, and guess what they suggested? Going to see Bridesmaids!

Kristin Wiig plays this woman Annie, who can't get out of her own way. A number of times, this quirky childhood friend ends up somehow ruining a number of wedding-related events. She is disorganized, broke, and out of touch with the new life of the bride. Sound familiar? That's exactly the role I have in Crystal's wedding, except that I'm not the Maid of Honor. 

I was traveling with Crystal and her fiance to meet two of the other bridesmaids in a far, distant corner of Massachusetts, (just Mass, to those acquainted) where we would hang out with a $650 Siamese kitten named Bandit, go to the movies (the theater in Millbury was the biggest, best movie theater I've ever been to), watch "Say Yes to the Dress" (not kidding), and eventually try our hand at finding dresses at David's Bridal. I hadn't been to a David's since I picked up my junior prom dress there, but let me tell you, it was full of really unattractive women. No really, I'm not trying to brag about my little motley crew- but Crystal was by far the prettiest bride-to-be.

Here's the dress that the Maid of Honor gets to wear:

Here's the dress that I'll be forced to wear: 

I didn't want to be the difficult one, but I really would rather wear the first one, but the other bridesmaid decided that she loved this one. In these circumstances, you have to speak your mind FIRST and then let everyone else decide how to deal with your decision.

But here's the shitty part, and how Bridesmaids the move sort of came true: I forgot my wallet when Crystal picked me up. Oldest trick in the book, right? No! I had no id! I couldn't drink! And like a child, she has to foot the bill for me the whole trip. Yeah, she picked me up, too, because I'm a loser without a license.

So the whole weekend I was trying to fit in with the group despite the fact that I was the loser friend from childhood who forgot her wallet and didn't like anything that the rest of the group liked.

Which is why when the Maid of Honor suggested the bachelorette party be in New York City, I was pretty quick to agree. She thinks that Crystal would really enjoy getting out to the big city. When I asked Crystal if there was a part of New York she was interested in seeing she said, Times Square. You say Times Square to me, and I think of two things: Rudy Giuliani's quest to clean up (gentrify) the city, and Total Request Live. Not exactly the classy, sheik sort of soiree I'm sure Crystal has in mind.

Then I remembered how awesome Portland is, how it won't take any of us six hours or $150 to get to Portland as opposed to NYC, and how much I want the bachelorette party moved here. We'll keep it classy! Portland Harbor Hotel (money saved on train fare could go toward Jacuzzi suite... just sayin'), Schooner cruise, Fore Street, Bar of Chocolate, etc, etc. Then in the morning, Jazz brunch at the Museum, or Local 188... I was so excited about planning the classy Portland party that I almost couldn't get to sleep. It was then that I realized why event planners are so awesome. They get paid to give people their opinion of what will be fun.

I'll keep everyone updated on the wedding planning.

Spring Fling

Okay, so I've been going a little bit crazy, looking at fashion blogs and shopping online and shit. No really, like non-stop. At the beginning of every semester I get a fatty student loan reimbursement, and I usually allow myself a very small spree to make up for shopping at the Sal all year. This is despite my roommate's ongoing advice to 'make a budget.' My budget plan is to deal with being poor.

I've been meaning to upload a picture of the crazy fascinator that I made for the Kentucky Derby party, which ALMOST earned me a Finest Filly award, but instead I had to find an outlet (excuse) for all the shopping I've been doing. Here's one of those collage thingees that I see fashion bloggers making all the time about shit they want/have/love. Most of these things will work well in conjunction to the jean/t-shirt and occasional printed scarf and/or crazy boot combo.

Note: that is a picture of Mandy's ass, but those jeans were too small for me/already sold. 

 

Oh, and this too.

Cat Lady/Soul Mates

 

(I'm the green, Mandy is the grey.)

Ten Years Ago...

I was about to be a senior in high school. I was really excited about applying to art school, I had some great friends, I was dating a few nice guys here and there. I think I was driving a maroon 1992 Ford Mustang and I had my whole life ahead of me. Or something. 

I found this list that we complied in an english class (I believe). Everyone wrote down something positive about each classmate, and the teacher compiled the list and gave it to each of us. I happened to keep and recently rediscover my list... this is what people in my high school english class had to say about me:

AMANDA:

AWESOME PERSONALITY

MAKES FRIENDS EASILY

CONFIDENT

KNOWS WHERE SHE'S GOING (This is sort of funny... Know where I'm going? Like, into debt?)

DOESN'T LET ANYTHING STAND IN HER WAY

SELF CONFIDENT

VERY SMART AND I ADMIRE HER

SHE CAN GIVE HER OPINION WITHOUT BEING PUSHY 

SHE SHOULD HAVE HER OWN TALK SHOW (What??)

SHE'S FUNNY, SMART, CREATIVE AND GIVES REAL GOOD ADVICE

HER COOL CHARACTER GIVES THE CLASS AN HONEST OPINION AND RELAXED ATMOSPHERE

SHE BASES THINGS ON HOW IT IS AND HOW IT SHOULD BE

A NATURAL LEADER

HONEST

EXPRESSES HERSELF WELL

HAS A GREAT SENSE OF STYLE (Yes!!)

KIND, COURTEOUS 

THE COURAGE TO STAND UP TO PEOPLE WHEN NECESSARY

Well. I can't say I remember very much about this class, except that Beowulf was the only book I've ever not read for class and consulted Spark Notes. I just couldn't get through it. Anyway, thank goodness that one classmate said that I was kind and courteous because I was starting to think everyone thought I was a bitchy know it all. 

Munjoy Hill Cocoon

I know I don't talk about school very often, but the Spring semester is VERY close to being over, I have one final left. Then hopefully, I'll be done the following Spring. 


In my Writing the Feature Story class, we all participated in a peer-review workshop. One of my older classmates often has a theme with his stories, "Kids today" (shakes finger.) His paper was about how audience fragmentation and the consumer dictating the market in the music industry has led to Top 40 music being total shit. We talked a lot about it, and he actually ended quoting me in the piece- once about my love for Gaga and Katy Perry, and once about the safety of using cell phones as a defense mechanism. Just shows how many interviews he actually conducted... But anyway, there was a passage about how iPods and smart phones have enabled people in society to cocoon themselves, giving us a lack of social interaction and sense of community. Again, I disagreed, saying that I rely on my cocoon to get me through the Greater Portland Metro Bus ride every day. Citing again that one time I wasn't wearing my headphones and this guy ended up showing me his colostomy bag from his last trip to the ER because he was stabbed in the abdomen. 


Sometimes, though, it can be difficult to remember that when you're in public and you're wearing headphones, you aren't really invisible, although you feel invisible. 


I had just set out for a mini-East End shopping excursion- mangoes at Rosemont, seltzer at Colucci's, and Epsom salt for ahem, a medical issue I'd been having.  There was a man standing outside of an apartment building which notoriously has all kinds of trash and shit on the sidewalk all summer. He was probably about 6'1", black oversize hoodie, baseball cap. Maybe a facial piercing or cubic zirconia studded earrings. He was probably somewhere between 18-22, I don't know, I'm a terrible judge of age. I crossed the street towards him and his friends while another woman, middle-aged, middle class, was also approaching them from the other direction. She was walking some sort of hound dog. 


The man started asking her if she used to live near Washington Square, because he used to live near Washington Square. He must've recognized her dog. I was listening for some clues about where the hell Washington Square is, and then I noticed that the guy's face was covered in a bright red rash. But I kept walking and didn't really think anything of it, except that I was going to have to ask Rebecca when I got home where Washington Square was...


I was almost at the bottom of the hill when this guy and his girlfriend (or, the woman he happened to be holding hands with) and yelled in my face: "DID YOU GET A GOOD FUCKING LOOK AT MY FACE NOW?" He was obviously really angry, and I was annoyed because I happened to be texting Cleveland- walking and texting is hard enough as it is. But then I realized that to him, it must've looked like he was some sort of medical oddity or something.  Honestly between my bad vision and my curiosity about Washington Square, I barely noticed it was something other than acne. Nothing on Web MD seemed to look the same as what this guy had, btw.


But I'm even sympathetic to people staring at you because of weird face things- after that car accident, I had to wear an eye patch or sunglasses to work at a coffee shop. I get it. He continued angrily yelling things at me, and I continued to pretend like I didn't hear him, thank to my iPhone. Then I heard him yell something like, "AND I'LL FUCK UP YOUR BOYFRIEND, TOO!" from further down the road. Which was weird because how the was he supposed to know that I'm in a relationship? Did he Facebook me? Good thing I have ol' Cleve, because if some random stranger told me they were going to beat up my boyfriend and my boyfriend was non-existent, I would've been really sad. 


Anyway, the icing on the cake was that then they walked into Rite Aid, which is where I was going. Instead of following them in and risk getting stabbed, I walked around the block a few times to ensure my safety. Hours before, Cleveland updated his FB status with "It is a wonder how we ever avoided eye contact before the age of the iphone." 


It's also ironic that a man who bartends at Forest Gardens, a dive bar near campus that I hang out at sometimes, lives on the hill and says one of the great things about Munjoy Hill is that people actually look you in the eye. 


What a weird day.