Cry Me A River

In my next life I will be independently wealthy. I will spend labor day in New York watching the US Open instead of in Charlotte cleaning my house and trying (god help me) to finally finish unpacking. I will more than likely end up doing everything but that neccessary task, but such is the life of a poor intern. No money to go exotic and fascinating places and no desire to accomplish the mundane tasks that need doing.

Have I cried you a big enough river yet?

On Being Old School...

I was standing at the copy machine today--begging it to please please please do this one little favor for me-- and realized in a flash of insight how pathetically attached to technology we are. Call me crazy, but something's out of whack when your machines take on personalities of their own and you start talking to them like there is an acutal person standing in front of you.

As it happens, our copy machine is the worst. Yesterday she refused to hole punch or staple my supplements and crashed 5 minutes before our meeting--without printing the one page we needed. It was as if that chunky body of nuts, bolts, ink and toner was actually angry at the world and was going to tell us about it, like a teenager whose been told they are too young to go to a party or some other rubbish. Chad was forced to basically molest her in order to get a tiny scrap of paper released from her deepest recesses.

Not to mention my journey round the house this morning to find my mischvious and constantly missing USB-compatible card reader, so I could email the photos resting on my CF flashcard to my editor. No dice. I had to go to the drug store at lunch and convert the files onto a CD. Except the CD drive there wasn't working. Evidently the photo machine was having a bad day too. So I had to come back later when it was fixed and instead of emailing the photos at 10:00 am, it was dark before they arrived safe and sound in her inbox.

Whatever happened to the days of the one-hour photo counter and a stamp?

Well, I'll tell you straight up. They are SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long gone that it's ridiculous.
Those who attempt to hang on are scoffed at and constantly bombarded with demands to, "get with it". It's not so much about keeping up with the Jones's anymore as keeping up with the vast array of newer, brighter, bigger/smaller, and better.

But my drama filled experience with our copy machine has got me thinking that maybe they're on to something.

Maybe Grandma Polly is actually smarter than the rest of us for refusing to buy a digital camera and printing dock; instead, continuing to use old school Kodak and taking her film into WalMart by the load. Though Kodak soon won't even be making film, except for professional grade, she's held strong to her tangible way of doing things.

Maybe she's right and what you see should still be what you get. The iPhone is pretty sweet (so suculent to the human eye that I would probably give my left and right arms to have one). Blue tooth, wireless Internet, nanotech--well they're all great, but have you noticed there seems to be a new law roaming around the universe that says if something is due, past due or should have been done yesterday, every piece of technology will malfunction at precisely the WORST moment?

You WILL get the blue screen of death on the last question of your timed online midterm--with a mere 30 seconds to finish without penalty. Your printer WILL go offline and/or run out of ink 20 minutes before your 40-page thesis is due (which you have, of course, waited until the last second to print b/c you, of course, waited until the last second to write it and have only finished cranking that baby out a short 45-minute nap ago). Or, and this is the worst, your flash drive WILL REFUSE to work b/c you have neglected to keep that handy dandy protective cap on it and some infinitesimal micro-something-or-other-made-of-silica is now malfunctioning. Yes. That is the worst. All that information sitting right there in your hand and you can't access it. IT IS. THE WORST. EVER.

To the tech-heads and those obsessed with linear progress in the universe, I may be way out of line, but maybe--just maybe--we all need to get a bit old school about life and go back to a more tangible existence, rather than continue to feed the arms race into the invisible, the incalculable, the ineffable.

Maybe.

Or maybe I should just go ahead, sell my soul for an iPhone and be done with it .

Do you really think you can "spike" on my ass? Really?

Winthrop's first annual Sweet Elite Has-Been Athlete Reunion was a complete success. I arrived home sandy, sun-burned and sweaty Saturday night from my first volleyball outing in about a year to a living room packed full of boys watching Beckham. And I'm not kidding you, the soccer channel was on THE ENTIRE WEEKEND, wake or sleep. They were only too happy to engage in an orgy of soccer, beer and belching. I, on the other hand, missed the Blake-Federer final of the Cincinnati Open due to their futbol bender.

Janette (our temporary roommate, fellow Big South Intern and vballer) concurs that it was definitely a bit much.

But I would be lying through my freshly whitened teeth if I tried to say that having so many people around our place wasn't satisfying.

We felt loved. We felt popular. Like we are the cool kids living in the big city.

Well, at least a city bigger than Rock Hill, South Carolina.

Back to Janette. Man, that copper Chevy coup pulled up in my driveway just in time. Finally! Another set of XX chromosomes set at the office. The boys were driving me nuts, God bless em'. Just too many fake golf swings every time you try and have a conversation. And too many boasts about how they would sooooooooooooooooo spike on my ass if we ever played volleyball.

Right. I was the starting Libero (i.e. the most bad-ass defender on a team) at a top 30 division I school, made the all-conference team, went to the NCAAs every year and you are going to spike on my ass? I don't think so. Give yourself a reality check and admit that you will not beat me at my game unless you actually played it. Especially if you weren't an athlete.

And who even says "spike" anymore? Is it 1990? Have I just mistakenly fast-forwarded my personal reality 17 1/2 years?

I'm just saying...

Approaching Loserdom.....NOW

I am officially a loser. I turned down two invitations to go out and see people in a non-work atmosphere, so that I could stay home and whiten my teeth (my love for anything and everything coffee has made this more and more necessary in order to not look like I have constantly just eaten a yellow lollipop) and watch the James Blake tennis matches that I dvr'ed (God I love that little gadget, I've got yoga and power kickboxing programed in at 1 am tonight so I can do them in my living room tomorrow morning. And while this might seem overenthusiastic to most, I'll stand by my assessment that dvr is really pretty freakin' awesome in my book).

In case you're wondering Blake won both matches. Fabulously. FINALLY. I am hoping he is back and ready to take New York by storm. Still bummed that my intern salary will not afford me going up there to visit Sameer and catch a few rounds, but I've got dvr now, so at least I can watch all the matches. It's a small comfort.

I am also playing real volleyball for the first time in for-eva-eva tomorrow and I. AM. PUMPED.
It has been shamefully too long since I've been on a court--hardwood or sand. So hopefully that age-old adage about remembering how to ride a bike will apply to serving, digging, passing and shot making. Thank God it's three's and I don't have to worry about blocking or hitting. Let the tall people jump around like they are "the (wo)man" and then I'll sneak in and take away their glory with one little arm--shot out from my body at the very last second and angled just so, sending the Baden directly to the setter, only to result in my own tall people slamming it in the other team's face.

I've been visualizing. Can you tell?

Last Train Has Left The Station...What a downer

July was my last National SAAC meeting. I'm more than a little bummed that this part of my life journey is done. But I'll get over it. Just so long as there's a reunion in Cancun soon!
Some shots from our community service at the nations largest homeless shelter in Washington D.C. and from our abysmal kickball outing...I don't want to talk about it.

Stubborn streaks that run in families make it hard to stop sweating the small stuff--but I'm still gonna try. That's how stubborn I am.

Stupid Lottery. I suppose my chances were slim to none, but I really felt like I was owed some good fortune after the week I had. Obviously I didn't have the golden ticket, but neither did anyone else, so better luck next week. Actually, better luck this week--THANK GOD!!! The insurance is being wonderful. My claims' adjuster is not your stereotypical cold bottom-line-only-focused shrew. Rather she was sympathetic and pulled through for me in a big way. There is no chance on this earth--short of winning the lottery or inheriting money from a mysterious source--that I could have come up with $3500 to replace everything that was taken.

We have a new roomie from Pittsburg and of course Meg knows her. I swear, that girl knows the entire population of Pennsylvania and probably half of Atlanta. Janette will only be crashing temporarily at chez BethBethMichael et Will, but I am looking forward to having another volleyballer around the house and the office. I hope she doesn't mind sleeping on a couch and working in a file room! Ahhhhhh, the life of an intern!

Before I jot off, I just have to give a little shout out to my Grandpa Earl. He died one year ago yesterday and it's been a rough one for us all. I usually do well coming to terms with this fact, but every once in a while, I'll find myself crying in traffic for no good reason other than I just miss him like hell.

Damn it! You got me again.

I had rough weekend and I couldn't figure why I was so touchy. I was seriously freaking out about the dumbest things. I got mad at Will for asking when the Internet would get hooked up and if everybody that I've yelled at driving in the past week could have heard me, I'd probably be in the hospital from all the beat downs that would have come my way. But I think I was really just suffering all over again from a broken-heart and unwilling to admit that I'm still not over the fact that he is gone.

So Grandpa--just remember that I will always remember. You are--as Nat and Natalie so aptly put it--unforgettable. I still look to you when I'm freaking out and sweating it. I still remember how hard you worked to make others happy and when I just can't get over myself I remember the selfless example you set and follow it--though sometimes I'm a little pouty about it. I know that's the kind of person I'd rather be any and every day.

I'll keep trying not to sweat the small stuff. You just keep coming in and making me cry. It kind of feels good actually.Because even though it hurts, I'm still thinking of you. And that brings me the kind of joy that no pain can stand up to.

Love you much!

B

I have the worst luck ever, but I still bought a lottery ticket this week!

Um, I think I might be cursed? Otherwise, I just cannot explain the rout of rotten luck I have had lately. In addition to being robbed last Saturday, last night I spent two hours in the Shell Station on Sharon and Fairview after my jeep started leaking antifreeze in the Nordstrom parking lot at South Park b/c it's 100+ degrees here and evidently cars don't like that. Especially ones that would be old enough to consume alcohol were they human beings. Needless to say, despite becoming bosom buddies with the Turkish attendant who let me sit behind the counter and chill with him in the air conditioning, it wasn't my first choice of where or how to spend my evening. Seriously now. What are the odds of all this BS happening at once?

As Ms.McGrane would put it,"I am sooooooooooo over it!"

And I am. Over it. Determined not to let it make me bitter or negative. Grandpa Earl always advised us to "not sweat the small stuff" and thank God some of that attitude has stuck with me. I'll roll with the punches, but punch back if I have to. Right about now, I feel like punching the evil twin of Lady Luck, the three fates and whatever evil spirits are kicking it around my life sphere, in the face.

HI YA!!! BACK OFF NOW!!!

Little do they know I have a black belt in kicking negativity in the ass and silver linings are attracted to my presence like kids to a mess.

I even bought a lottery ticket last night, just cause.

My mantra this week: "Tell the negative committee that meets in the back of your head to sit down and shut up!"

Sorry grandma, there will be no photo of my lovely burglarized house for some time. Yes. I did say burglarized. Yes. I am quite angry about it. Yes we are having the locks re-keyed and asking for a security system. The police and the crime scene people already came by. No forced entry. Probably somebody who did work on the house and made a copy of the key so that the second we moved in and happened to leave--they could come and ruin our otherwise very happy day.


I don't feel violated, just annoyed that I get to deal with all of this. There are certainly worse things that happen in life, but right now this is the worst. I have no laptop, no camera, no iPod. And Irony just won't stop throwing punches.

Exhibit A: Roommate Will has had a streak of bad electronics luck. I jokingly told him that he'd better not bring his curse into to our house. Ha ha on me. Curse came, saw and conquered.

Exhibit B: Kept saying how much I wanted a new computer...guess I'm going to get it! Weeks of insurance paperwork and negotiations later with a hopeful outcome of reembursment

Exhibit C: No sooner are my camera and laptop wretched away from me then do I receive several offers to do freelance work--for which I really need both. Thank God Jennie is a wonderful friend and is going to let me borrow her SLR. I'm promising not to take it back to the house though--ever. No need to bring the curse on her!

Exhibit D: Nice police woman who dusted for fingerprints, just like on CSI (except--and no offense meant to her--she was no where near as good looking as Gary Dourdan), said that in the four years that she had worked our area, she'd never once heard of a break-in in our neighborhood. Just our luck, eh.

So, sorry grandma. No picture of my lovely burgled house. But I promise it will be the first picture I take with my new camera. The second being of our shiny new locks and the third of the panel to the security system--which will probably never be needed again once we get it. How do I know this? I know irony on a close personal level and I know that irony won't be able to resist the delicious temptation for one more good laugh at us over this one.

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P.S. Check out my latest article for the NCAA News!!!

Here's the link!

http://www.ncaa.org/wps/portal/!ut/p/kcxml/04_Sj9SPykssy0xPLMnMz0vM0Y_QjzKLN4g3NPUESYGYxqb6kWhCjhgihqYeCDFfj_zcVKBMpDlQwNTIQz8qJzU9MblSP1jfWz9AvyA3NDSiPN8RANobkoo!/delta/base64xml/L3dJdyEvd0ZNQUFzQUsvNElVRS82XzBfMTVL?WCM_GLOBAL_CONTEXT=/wps/wcm/connect/NCAA/NCAA+News/NCAA+News+Online/2007/Association-wide/Unsporting+conduct+-+07-30-07+NCAA+News

I'm a Big Kid Now...

I think my big girlness has reached a whole new level. I have a house. After two weekends on the road and an 80-hour work week, I moved myself from Rock Hill, SC up the road to the "Big City." No, not New York (I WISH!!!). During rush hour I yearn for NYC's subway system. Nope, Charlotte is it for me right now. And after 6 trips back and forth with a loaded Jeep, I am done with carrying boxes for more than a while.

Though not done with unpacking them. Our entire first floor is stuffed with the stuff of three human beings and we need to make room for the stuff of one more. Which means Mikey and I have a lot of work to do before the weekend. Looks like that nap I was going to take after work is looking less and less likely!

I miss naps so very badly. Why, oh why, didn't I take advantage of them when they were mandatory in kindergarten??? I have promised myself at least an hour of bliss on Saturday and it's pretty much my motivation to get through the week. I'm still getting back into "40-hours+ work-week" shape and the conditioning regimen is kicking my ass.

Still, I'm determined. And I've got to get there soon, so I can pick up a second job and make some extra $$$.

Wish me luck!