Glossolalia, complaining and cycling.
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I am usually a person who is uncommonly good at eye-contact when I’m talking to people and being talked to. I fidget a lot, but I’m always eye-contacting and always listening.
But I realized, at my cousin’s wedding this weekend, that I increasingly stare at people’s teeth when we talk now. Not only people with perfect teeth and not people with crooked teeth. Just all teeth.
That’s weird. I’ll bet I make people self-conscious.
You should go see The Simpsons Movie. Why? When have I ever given you bad direction? I mean, really. I saw the first showing at The Rotunda Cinemateque Friday at noon with my brother and the Mrs. and then saw it again that evening. It was worth seeing twice. Few people, if any, are giving our spoilers. I won’t, either. I’d have sworn vengeance on anyone that did that before I saw it. Honestly. “The Simpsons” is really the only reason we have a TV at all. We could watch movies and download the few shows we watch on the computer. If you see this film, you’ll enjoy:
Amazing animation. Aside from using the techniques from “Futurama”, the color is fantastic. “The Simpsons” on TV looks like crap now. But we watch it for the writing, not the colors, no?
Cartoon nudity. And who doesn’t like that?
One drop of the GD word/phrase that they never do in TV.
Drugs.
Illustration of how…ignorant we are.
Poop.
Seriously, it’s like an 87 minute episode of the show. And I mean that in a good way. I thought the “South Park” film was funny but very different than the show. The Simpsons Movie was not unlike the show in any ways that would have made it, well, suck. (Dang it’s hard to talk about without giving anything away.) If, for some reason, you don’t trust anything with “The Simpsons” on it, then trust me.
I’m very credible.
Some people say that Baltimoreans have no manners. However, I have lived in two places where people have considerably worse manners. And, I don’t want to start a fight, but go somewhere like White Marsh or Carrol County, and then see how you like the manners of city residents. I don’t necessarily mean people in the city but people from the city. I feel much more consideration from Baltimore city folk. My fellows. That’s all I’ll say about that.
One thing about Baltimore manners is that we all forgot the whole “don’t talk to strangers” thing. Whether you’re sitting on the light rail reading a GRE book and the man next to you wants you to give him a math quiz (true story) or whether you’re at a red light on your bike, and the man next to you on the sidewalk starts talking to you about cycling and the heat — people in Baltimore love to talk to people they meet. And that’s one of my favorite things about this place.
As in the latter case, I was on my way to meet a former professor for lunch in Charles Village Thursday, and I stopped at a red light near my apartment in Roland Park. A guy who was just there (no bus stop or anything) said, “It’s too for me to ride a bike today.”
“Really? I get hotter walking,” I tell him. “Even with the helmet.” I mention the pleasure of a little wind running through your helmet vents and the general breeze of biking.
And we talk about places to cycle around Baltimore and taking one’s bike on the light rail. Some trail near BWI. I pass up on one green light to chat for a bit. Then I’m yelling, “Thanks, man! Take it easy!” as I speed off down University Parkway.
I love this city.
I have not ridden my bike since Tuesday, when I rode home sans helmet. I have not been able to get said helmet over my giant and hurting head. I did ride my mother’s trike around a little. (More on the trike later.) But no bike. I received this keychain as a gift this weekend, and it has me lusting for some two-wheel action. Fortunately, I am having lunch with a former professor in Charles Village today, so I get to ride. I haven’t tried to get my helmet on, but it’s too humid to walk, so I’m just going to grit my teeth and do it if it hurts.
I am suddenly over-taken with the urge to get a job in DC so that I can get a folding bike, ride it to Penn Station, take the MARC train to DC and finish my adventure on a bike. However, I’ve had a two-hour commute before, and I was usually not happy about it. But it did not include a bike! The Mrs. is thinking of that, too. All the cool environmental groups I would love to work for are in DC.
You know what really really really pisses me off? When, during the past year, people have told me that I don’t really “work” because I am writing a dissertation at home, at my computer, rather than messing around on the computer in a cubicle or office somewhere and getting paid for it. “I have to get up early and work tomorrow.” “What, Johnny? You don’t work.” “Oh, shit,” says I, “you’re right. They give out PhD’s, and I have high blood pressure because it’s so easy!”
A very good friend likes to call me “useless” because I have been in higher education for ten years. A nice thing to say to your friend who never makes fun of anyone’s job or education or hobbies (well, hobbies…). “Twenty-somethings are ordinarily such useful people to society,” says I, “I guess I missed the club.”
Too many people like to link the stupid things I do (like walking into swings) or things I don’t know with “all that” education or “too much” school. “Damn, gonna be a doctor, and you never learned not to walk into things!” “You didn’t know that the military budget comes down with missions in mind and that some of the funding is state money? Don’t you have a Master’s degree?” “You don’t know how to change brakes on a car? You pussy. What did you learn in college?” “I guess you drink a lot since you’ve been in school so long. Why don’t you know how to make drinks?”
“Oh, yeah,” says I, “they taught all that in philosophy seminars. I’m just stupid. Thanks.”
“All those degrees, and you still don’t have a job?” “No,” says I, “why don’t you pay attention when I explain to you that writing a dissertation is still school, like classes, only harder? Did you have a job while you were in school, your career-type job, not a supporting-your-studying-type job?”
“I hope you get what you wanted after all that school.” “Gee,” says I, “I hadn’t thought about that. I was just selling off my 20s for fun.”
“I guess you’ll be rich now.” “Why,” says I, “do you need a loan?”
“Oh, how hard can writing a book-length study be?” “Well,” says I, “I’m sure you could just do it in a week. You caught me. I’m just lazy.” (I did get angry recently at someone who said something like that and lashed out with, “I’d like to see you do it!” knowing full-well this person cannot and could not do it because he/she never finishes — or even starts — anything. Luckily, a friend of mine defused the situation with, “Hey, more power to you, Johnny. I couldn’t do that,” and the funny thing was that he probably could — but would never think so himself.)
It’s weird how much much license people think they have to criticize my current occupation. If I were to make fun of someone’s job, I would be a jerk. If I made fun of someone who makes fun of my graduate degree for not having a graduate degree, I would be an ass. If I made fun of someone who makes fun of apartments by pointing out that they have no money because they pay too much for a ply-wood shithole (no one in particular) and that, I don’t know, they are shallow for defining success and happiness by how big their damned house is, I’d be an asshole.
I’m shocked at not how shallow so many people I know are, by how deeply superficial/materialistic they are. Since I’m not working to get more money to get more shit, well, my education is crazy.
I told someone yesterday that I want to work for a non-profit, and he/she told me, “You know they don’t pay much.”
Geez, am I a completely misunderstood teenager again?
Specialized blogs can be a lot of fun, like the one about pencils that guy (!) used to run:^)
Seriously, though, here are two great blogs for your weekend reading.
Free Advice on How to Fix Your Bike is written by a fellow who has it in his heart to help those of us who are not very technically-inclined fix and maintain our bikes. When I kept losing my chain in the front a few weeks ago, when I used the smallest chainring for the first time, his site hooked.me.up. I got the limits adjusted and peachy in a few minutes. I’m drooling over the plans to build a bike trailer now. If you own a bike, you should check it out. And if you don’t, you should definitely check it out and learn to fix something you might find at a yardsale and join those of us who love the joy of bikelife.
Another great blog to come out of my former home of Carbondale, Illinois is The Beer Philosopher. I don’t mean to disrespect the other bloggers of Carbondale, but this is my new favorite Dale blog — not just because I am…fond of beer and trying new brews. It’s well-written, and this gentleman not only knows his beer, he loves it. And that comes through in the blog in wonderful ways.
[Larger.]
From one day (a few weeks ago) when I drank all the coffee in the house. No, that’s not a tiny French press. That’s a BIG cup:)
Man, this whole no coffee thing is not fun. I talked to my father, and he blames all the salt I eat (which is a lot) and the stress of, you know, busting my head and being at the hospital for the high blood pressure reading. It has to be something. I have a nice I-like-beer-and-carbs gut, but I also exercise a lot. The Mrs. thinks it’s the dissertation/job-hunting stress.
Could it not be my sweet lady coffee?
I want to cry thinking of a nice black cup of yummy goodness, sweet, caffeinated tears of jubilation. Maybe I’ll get some and prove to myself that my heart won’t explode. At any rate, with my head bump, I don’t need caffeine headaches right now.
I’m out. Joining my Dad for dinner and to get something from the bike shop that I’ll write about later. It’s not a new bike for me (I wish! I want a folder!). But it’s really cool.
One of my original favorite blogs is back! Gary has resurrected Inkmusings, and I for one am stoked :^)
So my parents have a big yard in Hampden. One of the cool things there is an Amish swing that sits in the shade. It holds four people and takes more than that to move. It’s got a roof. Everyone loves it, including me. I probably have photos of it around, but I don’t feel like looking for them.
Because my freaking head hurts.
See, my mother is out of town. It’s fun to hang out with my Dad, and my recently-married brother was coming into the city tonight, too. I went down to Hampden early to cook: veggie burgers, organic potatoes (with onion, sweet red pepper, carrots, etc.) and my famously-perfectly-cooked broccoli. I had everything ready except the broccoli and went to my brother and wife to get them to see if it was ready. But instead, I ran head-long into the corner of the swing’s roof.
Next thing I know, I’m getting up but falling back down and freaking out because I’m bleeding, and what I hit was my head dent.
That’s right, I have a dent in my head.
I was a forceps birth, and I have a dent on my forehead, at my hairline, to the left. Today, the point of the swing went right in there and cut me. And knocked the crap out of me. I don’t ever touch it because I am irrationally afraid I will put my finger through a weak spot and into my brain. The worst was when I had a bug bite in there that I would not scratch. So of course I was not happy when that happened today.
So we were at GMBC all night. I did not crack my head, evidently. And, contrary to what was thought, I didn’t need any stitches. They did give me a tetanus shot though because it’s been thirteen years since I’ve had one.
Oh, and apparently I have high blood pressure. The nurse tested on my upper and lower arm and then again on my lower arm because he did not believe it. Stress, too much coffee, a combination? That sucks. All I can say about that.
I suppose I’ve let my coffee addiction get out of hand again. When we got to the hospital, I started scoping out coffee sources. That’s sick. And sad. So I’m having mint green tea tonight.
Now you can laugh at my hairy arm. Go ahead. Laugh at that, rather than that I walked into a huge swing. And hard.
[Me not take dat photo. Me wifey did.]
[Larger.]
It was hot last week, so I sought refuge in Moroccan mint tea. It was fairtrade and organic, to boot. This variety came from Choice Organic teas, newly available at my local grocery store.
I’m going to have some now:)
You know what they say about guys with big feet?
They wear big shoes.
According the Rainbow sandals, I have large feet. And I’m not very tall.
These are hemp and very comfortable, though, even for biking.
[Larger.]
This is off of the east-bound Coldspring Lane exit from I-83. If you live in Baltimore, you’ve seen it. It’s had stickers, ads, fliers and posters on it my whole life.
For Photo Friday: Barren.
Because it’s ads are usually pointless. You see them at that really long redlight, but then you forget all about them in the joy that the light is FINALLY green.
With the violent storms that showed up Tuesday and knocked out power, there are a lot of downed trees around Hampden and Roland Park. A very very large branch came down in my parents’ yard in Hampden. It missed several cars, a shed, a pool, a garage, two dogs, people and powerlines. It only made a mess that we cleaned up with rakes, a bowsaw and two axes (yes, axes). Then we ate pizza, played Wiffleball and went swimming.
When our power went out in Roland Park, I started drinking all the beer in the fridge so (I told myself) it would not go bad. I think that’s funny. It was like three in the afternoon.
But another tree which is gone is the one that asshole hit with a truck a few weeks ago. I saw a sign from “The City” yesterday saying they were removing it, and it was gone last night. And some foam is left from his truck, too. I don’t know if I should send an angry letter to Subway, like they’ll do anything or like they care. They cost Baltimore City some money, though, when they have enough trees to clean up around here. I hope he’s not driving a truck anymore. That’s a scary thought.
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