Filed under: And Then I Found Ten Dollars.
My aunt (on the phone): What did you have for dinner?
Grandma: I don’t know. Something you roll up.
Mom (in background): Homemade tortillas…
Grandma: Homemade tortillas.
Mom: refried beans, fresh tomatoes…
Grandma: refried beans, fresh tomatoes…
Mom: guacamole…
Grandma: Glock- glock, uh… glock-uh-moly.
Filed under: Uncategorized
I thought about riding my garage sale find retro bike to campus today, but decided against it. Despite the completely outdated looking fenders and infirm brakes, I am sure that my bike would be stolen if I took it to campus and just propped it against a wall. Someone stole my friend Nathan’s bike on campus, and it was a teal used child’s bike with fringe on the handlebars.
Anyway, I keep meaning to buy a bike lock. I can’t remember the combination for my old lock, which is why it’s permanently attached to the rack along with a piece of rust roughly in the shape of a bicycle that also came from a garage sale and used to belong to me. I’ve donated it anonymously to this fine housing establishment. It’s the least I can do.
When I walked back from the bus stop later this afternoon, there was an empty spot in the rack where my bike used to be.
I guess I don’t need a lock anymore.
Filed under: Crazies
While I was home for the weekend, my sister flew into Columbus on her way back from New York. My foolish pretensions to adult city life are all to blame for what happened when Mom and I went to pick her up, because my mom would never have wanted to go to a Jazz and Ribs festival right in the middle of downtown at night. It was beautiful out, and we sat next to the Scioto river and listened to some good and some bad musicians improvise a musical style that we didn’t like to begin with… So it was supposed to be Brazilian jazz, but I could have sworn that half of the time it was two guys with mics, a tambourine and a pop bottle. You are being spared my imitations of them, but if you’re curious about the effect, try shouting “I visit my MAMA, I forget me shamPOO!”, followed by beating perfectly innocent instruments while you make the sound of a UFO landing in a cornfield by breathing into your mic.
This got old.
We decided to explore the food and people-watching options. The crowd was tremendous and spilled across both sides of the river, joined by a bridge that was closed to cars. The lines at the rib stands were roughly proportional to the height of their signs and/or trophy displays. On the other side of the river we saw even more people, even more rib stands, and heard a jazz piano that made us think that the other free concert was the place to be. We started walking across the narrow bridge lined with junk vendors.
Right before we got to the end of the bridge, people started running, shouting and screaming. I looked ahead and the whole crowd at the edge of the bridge seemed to be turning and running in our direction. The crowd bottlenecked on the bridge and we pushed up against the edge and crouched down. “Get out of their way!” “We’re going to get shot!” Two little girls next to us started sobbing and we all bent down and hung onto the chicken wire for a minute… Then it was over, and the event police were all headed to the end of the bridge. It’s hard to say what really happened, it was so fast. Mom says she saw twenty black guys running and heard at least three gun shots, but there was a lot of confusion, and even if she’s right, that kind of thing doesn’t make it into the paper in a place like Columbus.
Then we left for the airport, with my mom on edge at the slightest provocation. (Ok, so it didn’t help that some lady who was trying to cut into the turn lane called her an f***** b****.) I doubt she ever goes back downtown.
Filed under: Cogito ergo :(
It’s time for my first Latin class to take their final, which is why it was a little disheartening to receive this original composition today:
sum ____ et sum discipulus et sum senior. sum laudo et amici. sum laudo football et basketball. sum non mal sedes bonus. sum doctus et bellus.
(I am ______ and I am a student and I am a senior. I am I praise and friends. I am I praise football and basketball. I am not bad you sit good man. I am smart and hot.)
Filed under: Crazies
The other day Crazy girl went out, and came back a while later with two huge suitcases that she could barely fit through the door. I don’t know where she has been getting them, but apparently she has been working hard. Last night I walked into a living room lined with enormous suitcases. The one regular sized case looked like a small suitcase toadie hanging out with six suitcase thugs.
Filed under: Cogito ergo :(
There are many differences, and yet many similarities between the television show and the original myth.
I appreciated the Greek Hercules for its story and the Sorbo-cles for its fable elements.
NASA has always wanted to portray astronauts as heroes who are flawless diamonds, but an inspection of their lives, wisdom, and news reports of murderous space women, show that they are just achievers with the right skill sets.
Hades has to fight for every inch of his hanky panky.
Persephone, the focal point of the story, has obvious visual objectives. First of all, she wears an article of clothing that makes her cleavage more pronounced.
Appearance wise, Hercules is what would be expected of an ancient hero: big muscles with clothes that can barely contain his brawny manliness.
No one would want to watch a show where after an hour, the sloppy, fat Hercules is still complaining about the winter and Persephone is saved in the end by the gods instead.
On focusing on Kevin Sorbo as Hercules, it is evident that he is the protagonist of the whole television series. To show this, the producers and directors used the series title, Hercules, and gave each episode a minute long introduction clip giving the broad picture of the whole television series, using lines such as, “the only thing stronger than him was his heart.”
In her case the adaptation was less, but still helped her to be pictured as a not-so-bad-but-not-so-good guy.
So the combination of old and new made the perfect show. Otherwise we’d still all be watching Baywatch.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Oh God, by whose mercy and might the world turn turns safely into darkness and returns again to light, we give into thy hands our unfinished task, our unsolved problems, and our unfulfilled hopes.
Knowing that only that which thou does bless will prosper, to thy great love and protection we commit each other and all those we love, knowing that thou alone art our sure defender.
Filed under: And Then I Found Ten Dollars.
I collected an amusing collage of sights on the bus ride home: the pink bubble on the lips of the bus driver, a plump belly jiggling as its owner rode his lawn mower over a bumpy lawn, and blue balloons bobbing along my sidewalk, almost pretty now that the grass is green and the sun is shining.
Filed under: Cogito ergo :(
Without anger, the Iliad would be reduced to a less than thrilling 400+ page story about war.
[Aeneas and Achilles] do not think for a moment (as Homer writes) about their opponent’s reputation, whether their homies are backing them up, or if they had their wheaties for breakfast…these bad boys are at the top of the food chain.
According to Disney’s Hercules, “A hero is not measured by the size of his strength, but by the size of his heart.” Archilleus clearly missed that point, for he was willing to sacrifice all those around him so he could be remembered.
How interesting can it be to be an ancient Greek god who is immortal? There’s nothing a god can do to make him/herself parish.
When one Greek goddess and gods favor mortal beings, others are at risk and even the ones in favor are at risk of being killed.
Neglecting the fertility goddess might give one no children and as a result every aspect is important.
If Achilles were as passive as he was aggressive, he would have died early on and would not be such a prominent figure in Greek mythology.
The anger demonstrated throughout the poem was Achilleus’ best friend.
When given the choice between a long and comfortable life or a short, but glorious life on the battlefield, he chose the ladder.
Filed under: And Then I Found Ten Dollars.
This morning I saw a student pedaling his unicycle as fast as it would go on his way to class.
Twice now, I’ve seen the girl who sings along to her i-pod as she walks around campus. I’ve heard that she also does this in the library.
Yesterday I ran into Violet, the only other Hillsdale graduate here, and ended up sitting next to her on the bus home.
As I was about to get off the bus, a huge coca-cola truck drove by on the sidewalk and in the bike lane.
