randomness from austin, texas

mid-summer neighborhood walk

2007-08-08T21:59:00.000-05:00

We headed over to Whole Foods for the makings of dinner: a few strips of hearty applewood bacon, baby spinach, fresh halibut fillets. Here are photos from the early evening walk.

It began with Sheba lazing on a neighbor's car. Rough life, I know...C calls this her pirate face. Really it was the end of a huge yawn.

Pretty flower before the state flag.

Home of my occasional Saturday morning splurge, un pain au chocolat.

My favorite intersection and the BEST record store ever.

Again, BEST record store ever, but an inside shot this time.

Angel watching over West Sixth Street...

This pictorial neighborhood tour wouldn't be complete without the requisite liquor store and unofficial landmark that points the way to our little shoebox.

proud parent

2007-07-30T18:21:00.001-05:00

If Sheba were my child, this is the "school portrait" I would carry with me in my wallet.

rude awakening

2007-07-29T23:12:00.000-05:00

It's just before 4am Saturday morning and I am asleep, as are the majority of people in the world. C says I have supersonic hearing or something, because I have this uncanny ability to overhear conversations that are several feet away, despite various background and ambient noises. This also makes me a fairly light sleeper. I wake when Sheba ventures onto the kitchen countertop -- it's something about the sound of her weight hitting the '70s style yellow Formica.

So it's alarming when I'm rudely awakened by an uncommon noise - one that I can't immediately pinpoint but I know it has something to do with glass. Not necessarily glass breaking, but something hitting glass. I immediately sit up, slowing focusing on the glass-bottomed hookah I smuggled over from Qatar many years ago whose purpose has been relegated to holding open my bedroom door. Nope - still upright and in tact. What the hell was that?

C, who could sleep through a freight train paving a new path through our little shoebox, perks up too. Suddenly, it becomes clearer. Masculine groans from just outside our window - a mere six feet from where I lay. C jumps up to peer out the blinds, trying to piece it all together. A slow-groaning "help" coupled with several "owws" make it much more real. Someone is laying outside our window, hurt.

Now here's a little visual to help you better understand -- outside our long and narrow bedroom window is a thin, say two feet wide, concrete path leading to the back of the tiny complex. Surrounding that path is a concrete retaining wall that helps keep our sloped parking lot from crumbling down into our tiny abodes. This wall is about three feet wide, open on the left side (closest to my window) and bound by a flimsy cyclone fence on the right, nearest the parking lot. In semi-Vonnegut style, here's a photo:

Once we figure out that there's someone in pain outside our window at 4am, we decide to investigate. I hear a cautious female voice suddenly, and realize that one of my single young neighbors must have beaten us outside. This makes me uncomfortable, so C and I rush out to the parking lot.

This is where it gets even weirder. There is my female Rastafarian neighbor with two clean-cut, late 20-something males, all with beer in hand. The three of them are attempting conversation with a slightly younger, equally clean-cut man who is picking himself up off the narrow paved walkway. We walk in mid-sentence - something about filming a stunt, the roof, etc. I look at Rasta, confused, my 4am-self only able to sputter, "What?"

Long story short -- Rasta had been hanging out with the two clean-cut men on their porch directly across the street from our complex, on obviously higher ground. From there, they noticed a shape dancing about on the flat, ridiculously accessible roof of ours. A few seconds later, the dancer, from here on out known as "Alex", noticed the three and bolted suddenly, landing with a loud thud on the pavement outside our window some 25 feet below.

Now Alex is obviously on something, with pupils that remind me of Sheba mid-hunt. When I ask him if he's hurt, he shakes it off like he just tripped over his shoelaces. "No, I'm fine. We were just filming a stunt."
"Wait, who was filming a stunt?"
"Me and my friends."
"No one's here but you. Where are your friends?"
"We were just filming a stunt, no big deal."
"Okay, but you're supposedly filming this 'stunt' on private property at 4 o'clock in the morning and fell off the roof. That's not normal behavior."
"I'm fine. I'm just going to walk to Lamar (Blvd.)" -- and he heads west. Um, Johnny Knoxville, Lamar is east.

We all watch, totally stunned, as he heads off in the opposite direction of his supposed destination. He's slow and shaken, but with no visible signs of having just dived off a two-story roof onto concrete. I'm concerned, but don't really know what to do. Why can't I immediately wake up ready to deal with bizarre situations like this?

I talk a few more minutes with Rasta and the neighbors. Somewhere in the regurgitation of the last 10 minutes' worth of events, I realize something. Alex wasn't wearing any shoes. Actually, I clearly remember him pulling off his wet black socks as I first started speaking to him. This just leads to more confusion.

At this point, I notice Alex has doubled back and is now heading toward Lamar, for real this time. He's still slow, and every few feet he stops and looks at the ground. I'm half expecting him to just topple over suddenly. I'm afraid he's hurt and I'm not sure what the best decision is. [This feeling is precisely why I'm afraid to have kids.]

We walk back inside. Neither C nor I can shake the feeling that we shouldn't have let him walk off. All my crime-show expertise comes flooding into my head - what if he's got internal bleeding or he's so high he just can't feel whatever wounds he's got. At that moment, C grabs the car keys and we both understand that we're going to look for him.

It only takes about three or four minutes to find him. He's standing alongside Sixth Street, almost completely IN the street. He's trying to stand still, but he can't help swaying. I pull down a side street just past him and turn off my headlights. C dials 911 as I watch Alex cross the usually busy four-laned street into a high-end rug retailer's parking lot. As C gives the operator the back story, Alex slowly settles into a parking spot, first sitting and finally laying down flat. I'm worried, but we're getting him help.

Less than five minutes later, a fire truck from our neighborhood firehouse pulls up alongside me and I point Alex's motionless body out. Right then, two cop cars and an ambulance pull into the parking lot as well. There's help here now, but I can't help feeling like a tattletale.

After explaining the story to one of the cops, he tells us that he's going to "haul him off to jail because he's obviously wasted." I mention that our main intention is to make sure he's physically okay but whatever. He thanks us for helping out and walks back over to Alex, who's surrounded by firemen, EMS workers and two cops. C & I watch from the golden Jeep some 100 feet away. I worry that he'll be angry and maybe retaliate with his "friends" when he gets sober. But I realize that he can retaliate all he wants, but neither of us could live with ourselves if we let him wander away and something bad happened to him.

Several minutes later, the surprisingly chipper cop returns, telling us that although he wanted to take him to jail, EMS workers wouldn't let him, as Alex is not drunk but high on something. EMS is concerned that there might actually be physical harm from his fall and that he just can't feel it right now. They strap him to a gurney and load him into the ambulance -- a several hundred dollar ride. I hope Alex has insurance.

It took a couple hours for me to go to sleep after that. I wasn't so concerned that he had been trying to do anything malicious, but I couldn't help thinking of what the other outcomes could have been. What if he had been a skanky, coked out druggie like the peeping Tom C caught a couple years ago. Or what if he'd truly hurt himself and it had been much more graphic and gory. Or worse, what if he'd died, leaving C & I to find the body early in the morning.

I'm better now that it's light outside, truly thankful that none of those negative possibilities occurred. Right now my only thoughts are how amazingly achy that poor boy must be.

i have to point this out...

2007-07-24T21:34:00.000-05:00

because it's totally not something I expected to see as an advert on my particular blog. Did anyone else notice the ad on the bottom right looking like this:

for some very inventive product called the Flatulence Deodorizer? That's what I get for writing an entire post on smells!

living vicariously through bare windows

2007-07-17T23:16:00.000-05:00

Several nights a week, my evenings are capped off with a leisurely stroll around my old West Austin neighborhood, known for one reason or another as Clarksville. Even in the heat of the summer, dusk brings with it cooler temperatures that make walks more than bearable but craved. I love that the comfortable couples and old-fashioned residents appreciate bare windows -- it allows me to catch glances of lives other than my own.

Last night's walk led to an odd but happy discovery. It started in the park, where most days teams of 20- and 30-something neighbors battle it out old-school style with rowdy kickball games and other, less active types tend to the small but lucrative garden. The city pool here is tiny, a simple circle that's probably 20 feet across and a mere 3.5 feet deep, with one lonely lifeguard on duty. The dog run, a prime spot for effortlessly meeting people, has been empty lately due to the monster bulldozer reconfiguring the area. I sat on one of the swings at the hillside playground-- a hands-down favorite childhood escape that now, sadly, makes me nauseous in about 2.9 seconds. While sitting there, quietly appreciating the changing colors of the evening sky turning to night, C & I noticed two school-aged boys tiptoeing toward the center of the open field. They bent down, and in the dark of night, it was hard to make out anything other than the rough outline of their two bodies. Soon they took off running, taking cover behind the vines of the nearby garden. Seconds later, a green and pink explosion led to giggles followed by a mad dash to get out of the park. I, however, stayed on my swing, much too comfortable to react to child's play. It took a minute or two before the walk's "discovery" began, when slowly the burnt, powdery smell of the used firecracker made it to the swings. Instantly I thought of the last time my family played with fireworks, probably 20 years ago. This summertime smell, accompanied by another familiar aroma of freshly cut grass, was the start to an evening of olfactory reflection.

We left the park and headed north, into the darkest part of the neighborhood but also the best for glancing in bare living room windows. As we crossed into the street, I smelled roly-polys. Now C says he has no clue what roly-polys smell like, but for some reason, I feel like I do. The only way I can explain it is as an earthy, dirt-like smell that reminds me of early evenings in the backyard as a kid, digging for worms and making mud pies. I vaguely remember playing with pill bugs as well (aka roly-polys), flicking them so they roll around the sidewalk and then pushing them along into the grass so they don't get trampled by pedestrians.

Just two houses down the street, I admired a modest, well-kept house with an odd but creative layout. Rather than a traditional front door and entryway, the home opens into a massive, wide-open kitchen...I've never seen anything like it before. And, as a woman who would happily live in one monster kitchen if it was amply outfitted, I was slightly jealous. From this house wafted the oh-so-perfect smell of freshly-laundered clothes. It almost gave me the chills, it was so yummy.

As I noticed this smell and commented aloud, C mentioned that someone, possibly the lucky owners of my new favorite house, was grilling a perfectly seasoned, juicy steak within a few feet of us. Ugh - what a life! Having lived in a quaint albeit TINY shoebox apartment with a fantastic but itty bitty courtyard and a stupid anti-grill policy, we've been craving grilled steaks for oh, I'd say 3.5 years. And here I'd found quite possibly the best kitchen AND a medium rare steak ready and waiting.

But we trudged on despite the pull of this little house. And a couple minutes later, as we passed a convertible Audi parked oddly in front of the one out of place, desolate looking house on the street, I was immediately struck by a smell I hadn't encountered in at least 15 years -- watermelon Bubblicious. Just saying those two words makes my mouth water and my blood sugar spike simultaneously.

It took several more blocks--past fancy Jeffery's and the blooming corner nursery, beyond our last-minute grocery stop, Fresh Plus, and back among homes again--before I came across the final smell of the night. As we talked about the older architecture of this particular section of the neighborhood, I immediately noticed the smell of old, slightly musty library books. As soon as the words rolled off my tongue, C agreed. As a child and young adult who absolutely loved the library and all the sensory experiences there, it didn't surprise me much that I'd come up with that thought in this area of Clarksville.

As we made it back home, I began to realize how many memories came up with each odd recognition. That's exactly what makes these nighttime neighborhood walks so much fun.

current obsession

2007-07-08T15:15:00.000-05:00

Back when I was young, impressionable and thought that I could do absolutely anything without immediately counteracting the thought with all the negative self-talk I'm capable of now, I wanted to do crime scene reconstruction. I mean hard core wanted to do it and this was years before CSI made the entire field seem effortless and sexy.

Studying psychology in college was the last step taken toward this goal. Somehow my career path shifted entirely with the help of an internship with Citysearch. From there I focused on writing, hence my current state. But, despite the fact that I'm far from studying ballistics and blood spatter and pretty happy spending my days and nights writing for peanuts, I still LOVE me a good unsolved, mysterious crime. The best place to delve into this: A&E's "The First 48," a much too simplistic but still worthwhile bird's eye view of the first 48 hours following homicides. Love it!

July 4th - what did I do all day? The rainy, humid weather kept me indoors, comfortably perched on the sofa, eating homemade apple pie and watching back-to-back episodes of this fantastic show. How patriotic is that?!

250,000 happy little balls!

2007-06-16T16:30:00.000-05:00

If you're someone who knows me well, you know I have a very simple, childlike fascination with bouncy balls. I've collected them over the last 15 years or so...I always seem to run across a bouncy ball when something important happens in life. I have bouncy balls from international trips, from memorable nights out, even from the day I completed my first big sewing project (impressive, huh?)

In any case, you can only imagine my excitement when I ran across this jaw-dropping commercial...I totally wish I'd experienced it in person!

arrival to Oman

2007-05-19T22:03:00.000-05:00

We finally made it! After 25.5 hours of flying, layovers and delays, we made it safely to Muscat. Because we flew in under the cover of darkness, it was virtually impossible to get an aerial view of the supposedly picturesque area. My dad had a native co-worker who was able to meet us inside as we exited the bus and entered the terminal. He swept us right through our visa retrieval, customs and baggage pickup. It was the easiest and smoothest international arrival I believe we've ever had.

Once we found all of our luggage -- for once almost all of it was waiting for us -- we rounded the corner that took us out to the eagerly waiting family and friends. Dad stood at the end of the walkway, and as soon as Emerson spotted him, he took off running, right into Poppy's arms. It brought tears to my eyes, it was so sweet!

Dad's house isn't too far from the airport; he says it's just out of Muscat proper. From what I could tell from the drive, the shops and restaurants look a lot like what I was used to in Doha, Qatar. And I've already spotted the first American touch -- a KFC that was still serving well into the night. Dad tells us that there are several American eateries here, including Chili's, Papa John's and Dairy Queen. It's always so weird to see these establishments on the corners of otherwise foreign streets...and they're always so popular. The last thing I want when I get over here is to eat at a fast-food restaurant that is so prevalent at home, but I guess there are occasions where that American touch can be comforting. I bet it feels that way to my Dad sometimes.

Because we got in so late (around 10:30pm local time,) we went straight to Dad's house to settle in. His housing always amazes me when I visit him abroad; I'm not sure if it's just because he chooses them large or if it's just the average house available, but each villa he's lived in has been expansive, especially for a single man. His Muscat home is no exception. This duplex doesn't look all that fancy or large from the exterior, but once inside, it feels never-ending. As per most Middle Eastern homes I've encountered, the walls are clean, white cement with arched doorways and high ceilings with intricate crown molding throughout. Like my favorite house of his in Doha, the floors are a creamy beige marble tile that's always cold to the touch -- so refreshing given the 100F+ heat outside. In my Dad's usual fashion, he had the high, horizontal air conditioning units cranked up in each and every room so it felt like the Arctic tundra as we experienced the formal tour of the place. That's just the way my dad is though and, although I grab the remotes and turn them down almost immediately, I love it.

Julie, Emerson and I all decided to sleep in bedrooms on the second floor where my dad's master suite also is so we would all be easily accessible. Despite the fact that the first floor has an impressive kitchen (in size at least; I can't stand the overhead lighting and the fact that the cabinets are blood red!) the second story has a separate kitchenette, allowing my dad to rarely make it downstairs unless to leave for work. And one of my favorite features to Middle Eastern homes -- roof access is available with stairs that make it appear as a third floor. I haven't been up there yet, but you can bet I will at some point soon.

That was my favorite evening spot during my summers in Doha -- I would climb the exterior ladder on the side of the one-story villa and sit along the roof's edge while I wrote poems, listened to music and called friends/family back home. The lights, sounds and smells of the Arabian city are somehow so calming, and coupled with the usually clear sky filled to the brim with bright, shining stars, it's something I'm pretty sure I won't ever forget. And those are the best memories.

On today's agenda: hitting the Toys R' Us to stock my dad's house with toys for 2.75-year-old Emerson (from here on out referred to as E,) taking the mandatory visit to his workplace to prove that he does in fact have two beautiful daughters, and who knows what else. Visits to local souks, beach time and cultural sightseeing will be forthcoming. Oh, as will photos.

formal introduction to Sheba

2007-05-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

A couple months ago, C and I decided that we'd graduated beyond plants in the nurturing department. With me at home full-time now, I was convinced I was ready for a furry companion. Determined to come to the rescue of a sad but sweet golden retriever, C and I somehow got distracted at the Town Lake Animal Center. Instead, we ended up with a spastic, waify kitty named Sheba who loves to meow constantly. Her range is both phenomenal and unbelievably annoying -- if you're lucky, maybe I'll record a couple clips for your listening pleasure, but don't hold your breath. If this is any kind of preparation for children, I've still got light years to wait.

Because Sheba loves the outdoors and devours anything she can catch (mainly in the form of spiders, moths and those gigantic male mosquitoes,) she comes home fairly dirty on a daily basis. Here's a photo from her very first bathing experience which I'm pretty sure she LOVED.

Although she looks like a pissed off, underfed raccoon above, she really is a quite comfortable cat. She's totally made herself at home in our shoebox apartment, grabbing herself a beer before she sits down to watch Adult Swim every evening (although she usually passes out before the funniest parts.)

Local Live Music :: Bob Schneider

2007-05-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

People in Austin don't even use his last name. They refer to him simply by his first, like he's an old friend. Like he's everyone's old friend. I'm not sure why I haven't yet written about him; he's Austin's most popular singer-songwriter.

Bob Schneider's style is forever evolving. He writes sappy sweet love songs, silly jangly tunes and raunchy, sexy numbers that I skip over when my mom's in the car. (Did I mention my mom loves him too?)

He's been a cornerstone of the local music scene for decades now, a veritable flesh and blood Austin landmark. I came to know of him when I spent my nights (literally each and every night) catching local music on and around the notorious Sixth Street. As a porous college student with an intrinsic love for anything creative, it made sense for me to take my study materials to the upstairs balcony of the now-defunct Steamboat and watch random local bands perform unfamiliar songs while studying. Pen in hand, I'd work on art projects or psych papers while noting bands, songs and the like that caught my attention in the margins. Friends knew of my bizarre study sanctuary and began cluing me in to various musicians worth noting around town. This is how I was introduced to the Scabs.

How someone coaxed me to see a group with such a visually-disturbing name is beyond me. At the time, the nine-piece band enjoyed a Tuesday night residency at the renowned Antone's, a venue that was, conveniently enough, all ages. As a partial social phobe, I was immediately turned off by the unbelievably packed club. The rambunctious nature of the college crowd was almost too much for a sober, slightly shy bookworm with a live music fetish. It wasn't until the end of the show after several songs with sexually explicit lyrics that I grew numb to the crudeness and began to appreciate the fun-loving party band that a dirty-talking Schneider fronted.

Since that time nearly a decade ago, this workaholic musician has kept me entertained with his unbelievable ability to morph into a variety of characters in the span of one show. He currently plays in a low-profile band billed simply as Bob Schneider, alongside long-time bassist and equally awe-inspring artist Bruce Hughes. Biting lyrics, astute rhymes and a certain unexplainable stage presence keep his live shows worthwhile, no matter the group he's fronting.

And if his musical ability isn't enough, he delves into both poetry and art.

Look for the latest musical creations on his MySpace where saucy, fun tracks are available for download.

Austin's Best Weekend Brunches

2007-04-10T14:03:00.000-05:00

Photo courtesy of Moonshine Patio Bar & Grill

Sometimes you wake up mid-morning on the weekend and you just don't want anything to do with cooking. Several local restaurants offer tasty options just for you. Here's a list of 10 noteworthy brunches in the Austin area. If you've got one of note, please feel free to leave a comment to let other readers know.

1. Capitol Brasserie
This cool downtown eatery feels like a mix between an upscale diner and an Americanized sidewalk cafe. The French-inspired restaurant offers a $17 prix fixe Sunday brunch from 10am to 3pm. Included is a fresh basket of breads and pastries (nothing like indulging in warm chocolate croissants!) and a choice between several salads, egg dishes, sandwiches and mussels.

2. Moonshine Patio Bar & Grill
This comfortably casual downtown spot offers a true Southern spread every Sunday morning from 10am to 2:30pm for $13.95 (be aware that special occasions can cost more.) This buffet-style breakfast features real comfort food like corned beef hash, green chile grits and chicken-fried steak fingers. A little advice: eat slow so as to make the most of this generous feast.

3. Lambert's
Nothing like some help-yourself barbeque to get your day started. This fairly new Second Street district restaurant (opened in December 2006) provides a mixed bag--traditional breakfast items alongside BBQ staples, like tender brisket, ribs and standard sides for just over $20. Feel good about eating here: the tasty dishes are made with local, sustainable ingredients.

4. Starlite
This uber-tasteful downtown restaurant is good, that's why the Zagat guide gave them the highest score for food (25,) decor (25) and close to perfect on service (23.) On that note, be prepared to pay a little more for the Sunday brunch here. Dishes are priced individually, with classics like french toast (topped with warm berry preserves, mascarpone cheese, and powdered sugar) running $7 with sides priced a la carte. Keep in mind that this particular restaurant has been a favorite place to eat for under-the-radar couple Gwyneth Paltrow and rocker Chris Martin.

5. Fonda San Miguel
Enjoy an authentic Mexican brunch in a beautiful setting Sundays from 11am to 2pm at this established, renowned eatery (also the supposed location where President George W. Bush proposed to Laura back in 1977.) This is a great place to take a special someone or celebrate a big event, just be sure to make reservations which you can do conveniently on their website. Their brunch isn't cheap, though--expect to pay upward of $35 plus the price of your favorite drink.

6. Green Pastures
This traditional Southern restaurant not only sits on beautiful property complete with peacocks, it also offers up an impressive Sunday brunch. From 11am to 2pm, Green Pastures' kitchen serves up a buffet offering dishes like cold boiled shrimp, seared duck breast and eggs benedict. And don't pass up a chance to try their milk punch with bourbon, rum and brandy. This spread changes from time to time, so don't expect to experience the same dishes on consecutive visits. Reservations are recommended, and be prepared to spend about $33 a person on this expansive meal.

7. Manuel's
This modern Mexican joint puts on a jazz brunch each and every Sunday from 10am to 3pm. Local jazz artists perform from 11:30am to 2:30pm while hungry patrons feast on breakfast tacos ($3 each,) huevos rancheros ($8,) and fautas ($8,) all individually priced. Complement the late-morning meal with a signature Mexican mimosa ($4) or mango daiquiri ($5.)

8. Cafe at the Four Seasons
This upscale downtown hotel offers a popular Sunday brunch overlooking Town Lake. From 10:30am to 2pm, hungry customers indulge in traditional brunch dishes, including a custom omelette station. A flowing chocolate fountain offers a quick and easy dessert option. For those wanting a bird's eye view of the inner workings of the kitchen, reserve the Chef's table. Expect to pay about $30 a person for this hearty meal.

9. Stubb's Bar-B-Q
This Gospel Brunch is one of the most well-known Sunday rituals in the live music capital. From 11am to 1pm, Southern favorites fill the buffet--from fried catfish and brisket to grits and migas while live gospel music wafts over focused eaters. Top off the experience with a made-to-perfection Bloody Mary from the make-your-own-Bloody-Mary bar. Call to reserve a table for hassle-free seating for the $20+ meal.

10. Chez Zee
This central Austin restaurant offers brunch both Saturday and Sunday from 9am to 3pm. On the menu: breakfast platters with pancakes, waffles and French toast; several variations on eggs Benedict; quiches; light salads; sandwiches; and much more. Prices are per dish and range from about $7 to $17. Another item of note: a children's menu is also available.

**Please keep in mind prices are subject to change and are meant solely as a guide.

I'm weak but I still believe

2005-11-16T16:44:00.000-06:00

I finally succumbed to it. After a long fight against her bold attempt to teach the world to love books (I thought that was the point of elementary school but whatever,) I broke down and read one of Oprah's Book Club picks - the latest one. How could I not though with an opening paragraph that reads,

I wake to the drone of an airplane engine and the feeling of something warm dripping down my chin. I lift my hand to feel my face. My front four teeth are gone, I have a hole in my cheek, my nose is broken and my eyes are swollen nearly shut. I open them and I look around and I'm in the back of a plane and there's no one near me. I look at my clothes and my clothes are covered with a colorful mixture of spit, snot, urine, vomit and blood."

James Frey's undeniably candid story recounts 24 years of hardcore drug abuse, alcoholism, and complete distaste for life followed up with six harrowing weeks of detox and AA-less treatment. (Talk about hell -- I thought parts of my life were bad but his story honestly freaked me out and had me counting my blessings that I was the modest fraidy-cat that didn't try most of the drugs passed around in high school and college. )

Most impressive to me was his take on his obvious, potentially deadly issues. Coming from a family with their share of very obvious issues, I've heard on several occasions of the miraculousness of the 12 Steps. And I'm not knocking it at all -- I'm a firm believer in the "whatever works for you" philosophy -- but Frey's absolute refusal to succumb to an ideology he was opposed to in a treatment facility that was centered around it made for a great read and an easy inspiration. I don't want to spoil the book for anyone, but it is clear he survived the stay... and because of the reach of O's audience, I think the idea of sticking to your beliefs (or your belief of a lack of beliefs) is a dead-on message for her to advocate, particularly to the Desperate Housewives-watching, SUV-driving demographic she most appeals to.

Best of all, it seems I'm not the only one noticing this.

Something to look forward to...

2005-08-16T23:14:00.000-05:00

(Thought: Maybe I should change the name of this blog to taraneverwrites.blogspot.com)

I've got a new book to keep me company when I'm bored. Stiff is an excellent mood-booster. Makes me completely happy with the rough spots in my life right now, if only because I'm not a cadaver being mutilated/disected/probed. Honestly though, it's a great, relatively lighthearted read.

Got a promotion this week. Fought (correction: am currently still fighting) for the adaquate amount of financial compensation for the added responsibilities. It's amazing to me how some people can have absolutely no qualms in screwing another over. Anyway, I'm holding my own and am fully aware of my amazing upper hand in the situation. It's just unfortunate that I'm a nice person typically because it makes situations like these a little more difficult.

Finally found out I'll be covering ACL Fest for liveDaily.com. Can't wait - it'll be nice to jump back into covering music again, if only for three days.

What the &$%*^(#

2005-04-23T11:51:00.000-05:00

Holy cow, it's been awhile! Although I'm on the computer all day everyday, I still can't manage to find the time to keep up with this. I don't think anyone really reads it anyway, but still.

Current obsessions:

1. Cloud Atlas by the magnificent David Mitchell. I bought this book in preparation for my January trip to D.C. to celebrate a friend's birthday and am still reading it! (Disclaimer: It's not forever long, just a few hundred pages, but I've read something in between and have been otherwise busy.) Anyway, I don't want to try to describe it because I won't do it any justice. My ultimate comment: It's intriguing to me that Mitchell was able to use such a variety of voices and capture readers with different ways of storytelling in one little volume. If anything, check out the reviews of it and the synopsis on Amazon. It's a great thinking man's book among the fluff that's out there and popular right now. Please, if you manage to read it, let me know what you think of it, even if you hate it.

2. Air America Radio -- who knew Jerry Springer wasn't as trashy and unintelligent as his television show? Not me!

3. Magazines -- particularly the more adult realms of political and home planning type mags. The Nation is my current carry-with-me-for-the-long-lights reading material. It's truly alarming some of the issues that arise. Makes me want to hibernate until the Bush administration is over, but what's new.

(And on a lighter note but no less of an obsession:)

4. Sweet Leaf Sweet Tea. I don't care who you are or where you live, seek it out. Find it, taste it, become addicted as I have.

Serious Subject:

I was made aware of a horribly scary situation. There's this group whose ideas and goals give me the creeps...reminds me of history lessons of a century ago. Anyway, look at the Project for a New American Century...read through their statement of principles, noting the members listed at the bottom and their current positions in the nation's government. Unbelievably disturbing.

All work and no play makes one age faster...

2004-11-28T21:56:00.000-06:00

I'm growing up and I'm noticing while it's happening. It's like watching leaves change color in the fall, but not just from your window, from up close in the palm of your hand.

Work, although not a tough job, has me tired by day's end. I'm thankful to have a job that uses my brain, even if it's not to write. I can handle it for the time being, especially since it comes with a nice insurance package. Between work and sleep (and a touch of C), I've enrolled in a web design class which is currently kicking my ass. Of course I somehow managed to miss the prerequisites list and signed up for a higher level than I'm honestly ready for but if you know me, you know that that minescule fact didn't discourage me. I decided to stay in it and not transfer to the first class, more of a beginner level. No, I spent a chunk of money on some web design software so that I can actually work on my assignments, although I'm spending loads of time teaching myself the software right now rather than working on the assignments. I'm only three assignments behind though, so give me a couple days and I should be fine, right? A quiet week without C in town that could have been time with friends and family has turned out to be evenings at the computer.

In any case, I'm pretty much floating through life right now. With November *almost* behind us as well as that dreadful election, I'm focusing on staying busy so as not to be as worried about the next four years and more. Focusing on Christmas presents and the fickle weather, nonstop Christmas music on that one cheesy radio station, when's best to do laundry and what I'll eat while I'm waiting for the megahot dryer to stop shrinking my clothes. Oh, and web design, of course.

Finally!

2004-11-11T23:22:00.001-06:00

A country that understands me!

2004-11-11T23:22:00.000-06:00

British popular opinion

I'm having adverse side effects to Bush...

2004-11-11T22:25:00.000-06:00

So there has been an obvious change in my lifestyle thanks to Prez Bush. Pre-election I was glued to the news channels - particularly Fox News thanks to "Outfoxed" which I think everyone should take the time to watch - enthralled by whatever the latest breaking story was. Now that the nation has gone to shit (maybe that's a little harsh right now, but just wait and see!), I now pay more attention to the crap reality shows that used to drive me absolutely nuts. An anaytical type by nature, I think that's kind of interesting. Maybe I've subconsciously given up on the thinking world...or maybe it's just a momentary lapse for my spent brain. I'm thinking the people responsible for the shows' high ratings are probably the mindless folks who re-elected the President. Hmm, now that's a thought...how about we do a poll on that.

Here's a scary reality. Check out the Iraq Body Count Visual Aid as well as the Cost of War . It makes me sick to my stomach to look at those and know that we've re-elected a leader who doesn't think this Iraq thing is the least bit wrong.

Anyway, I'm stepping down off my soapbox now, but only because it's bedtime. I hate to say it, but I've found some consolation in the surprisingly large group of unhappy citizens out there who continue to fume and vent over this whole election process. It makes me feel less politically isolated in this huge Republican state (although Travis County did go to Kerry)...

All hope is lost...

2004-11-08T22:10:00.000-06:00

This week I've been walking around completely shell-shocked. I don't know which creeps me out more - C catching a peeping Tom on his hands and knees looking in our window or Bush getting re-elected. Either way I guess the week kinda sucked so C and I are packing up and moving to Italy. Anyone needs a place to stay while on vaca in Italy can come help on our olive farm outside of Florence.

Ciao!

I DID IT!

2004-09-17T16:50:00.000-05:00

The Juju is standing up for something politically! I'm so proud of her...and of me for not pulling over and scraping the stickers off. They will probably be removed after the election and, depending on who is elected, might even be replaced by something else unless I'm satisfied with November's results. Let's wait and see.

So yesterday I found myself watching C-SPAN which was covering a Kitty Kelley interview on her new contraversial Bush family book. Hmmm. Might have to read that considering I spent a good hour listening to the Q&A about it. Sometimes it's so hard to know what's right, you know? There are always three sides to everything - the two opposing sides and the truth.

Why isn't the news considered reality television?

2004-09-09T13:57:00.000-05:00

I'm obsessed with the little ticker running along the bottom of CNN. I feel like if I keep up with the ticker, I'm well-informed on the happenings of the world. Sometimes I wonder why certain pieces are reduced to the ticker and aren't given more airtime by one of the airbrushed correspondents. Do you think they wear shoes underneath that desk? I wouldn't...but then again I wouldn't be good in that position. I'd probably laugh at the wrong time just knowing that I shouldn't do it. Anyway, I digress. I think that channels dedicated to news like CNN and Headline News *notice I didn't mention Murdoch's personal soap box station* are true, legitimate forms of reality television. What's more real, MTV cut-and-pasting Real World footage into a "reality" show or the gruesome photos of "is it or is it not" genocide in Sudan?

Just a quick peek into my brain. Back to tedious book proposal work...

I'm having a Jupiter Jump at my next birthday party, and you're invited!

2004-09-08T16:36:00.000-05:00

Cory and I made a last minute trip to Tulsa this past weekend, fueled by his niece's impending sixth birthday. Having been away from his family for a long five years and therefore missing most important events like birthdays, first words, holidays, etc., C really wanted to be there for her birthday and I thought that was a great idea. We decided I could drive the truck early Sunday (think 5:30am) until he was fully awake (he worked 3pm to 1am the night before) at which point he could take over for the last few boring hours through dismal southern Oklahoma.

Well, that was the plan anyway. Until it took C about 2.5 hours to fully wake enough to pack a couple changes of clothes and walk his butt to the truck. Regardless of the departure time, we made it to Tulsa without any issues or air conditioner leaks.

Labor Day for Tara was spent car shopping with my mother. Sitting shotgun while my mom took the brand-new, barely-driven Accord from 0 to 80 mph on the acceleration lane of the highway while simultaneously fiddling with the radio and talking a mile a minute and with the salesman in the back literally gripping the handles...I actually had to ask my mom to slow down. I think I needed Valium or something, I was so high-strung. Anyway the car shopping experience was bearable and rather successful aside from the near performance of the Heimlich maneuver on yours truly *no further details on that one*.

But, the BEST part of the whole entire 2.5 day trip was Monday night. Who knew I would have so much fun at a 6-year-old's birthday party? It was a surprise party that I almost ruined within the first few minutes of getting to Tulsa. Luckily I was saved just before I ruined it, so Alyssa was ecstatic when she saw her family and a couple neighborhood friends waiting for her in the living room. For once she was almost speechless. Of course presents, hot dogs and sugary cupcakes ensued. But the best part was the JUPITER JUMP! Her parents rented one of those blue and red air-filled jumping cages with the netting along the sides so you don't bounce yourself out and set it up on their lawn. Talk about a workout...we let all the kids play first and once they moved on to the pinata, Cory, his younger brother Mark and I took the thing over! I've decided I want to take a camping trip with a few friends and take a Jupiter Jump instead of a tent. Jump for awhile, eat, jump awhile, drink, jump awhile, sleep...etc.

A big step for the Juju...

2004-09-01T17:48:00.000-05:00

I've got so many bizarre quirks - I've come to accept this. One such quirk is the downright refusal to put bumper stickers on my past/present/future vehicles. I think they're tacky, and that's putting it mildly. I don't care if your kid's an honor student, that you support whirled peas or you listen to Tool. I don't think most others care either. The stickers only encourage silent ridicule and mockery from bored drivers sitting at stoplights.

BUT...

even though bumper stickers give me the hives, I've been taking baby steps to be more accepting of these mini-personal statements. Last year, after my sister and brother-in-law returned from their honeymoon in Hawaii, I actually placed the small, circular flower bumper sticker they thoughtfully gave me on my bumper. (Hey, it may be small and clear except for the little yellow flower, but it's a start.) After almost a year, it has managed to remain a part of the Juju (aka the Golden Jeep) without me feeling lame and peeling it off with an exacto knife.

So imagine my own surprise when about a week ago I decided that I wanted an authentic bumper sticker - one that makes a statement. Without turning this relatively light-hearted blog into a political bash-fest, I will explain the driving force behind this enormous change of heart. I LOVE THE TWO UNEMPLOYED DEMOCRATS COMPANY! I typically keep mum on my political opinions, but this year all the malcontent is festering somewhere inside. Not a good thing for the complexion, you know. So I decided that the best way for me to say what I want without getting into heated debates with others (in which case I usually become either A) quiet and angry, or B) yelling and nonsensical) would be via TA DA...a bumper sticker or two. So, having heard about this Two Unemployed Democrats Co. somewhere in south Austin, Cory and I set out to find it and outfit Ray and the Juju with *tasteful* bumper stickers. I bought two, the crossed-out W that is all over the place these days, and my personal favorite, No One Died When Clinton Lied. They had SO MANY good phrases but most (like the succinct "Bush is a punk-a** chump!") just didn't have the class which the Juju demands.

Now if I could just gather the courage to stick them on...

Freelance weekend

2004-08-20T13:45:00.000-05:00

So Shellie's finally back from teaching the little ones of Taiwan how to speak English...I don't know how she did it. She does have some hysterical stories though. We're both on the jobless front now, holding pow-wows via phone about job openings we've found and ones we're scrambling to apply for.

But the real fun begins tomorrow, when in the a.m. we head to Dallas for some heavy-duty freelancing. Dallas.citysearch.com launches Sept. 1 under the mighty hands of our ex co-worker Nathan...bar and restaurant content is desperately needed so we're off to take the town by storm. *Who am I kidding - I haven't taken towns by storm for quite a while now.* I'm in the process of developing a bar and restaurant "research" strategy - one that encompasses all 10 locations within our 24-36 hour visiting period. I bet we come away with some stories to tell. Should be interesting...

*Update*

So I've spent the afternoon sketching out a course of action for this whirlwind weekend. Turns out that between the two of us, we've been assigned a bizarre array of locations. A high-dollar restaurant with a dress code (in true Dallas fashion), a hookah lounge, a restaurant where the whole menu consists of dishes on skewers, a couple seemingly cool bars, and my personal favorite, a techno dance club. I can't help but laugh when I imagine all the ways this weekend could turn ugly. Anyway, I should go prepare my travel wardrobe. I know I've got some extra glow sticks around here somewhere...

Entering the "adult" world...maybe

2004-07-29T16:34:00.000-05:00

Now it's a more serious form of procrastination. As I have come to say over the last couple of months, I'm in need of an "adult" job in a bad way. I've been so excited about this revelation this whole time. Visions of pulled-together work outfits accessorized with cute little jewelry and one of my several hundred purses. *Anyone who knows me knows that I DON'T sport cute jewelry.* Conservatively sexy heels, maybe even glasses...anyway, unbelievably unrealistic visions of adulthood in the real world. All I really know is that I'm finding a job that has absolutely nothing to do with children.

So I've been searching. I tried for a job in LA...didn't work. Close, but didn't work. Now I'm trying for a job in the south of France, but that's just a fun job to apply to. I'm searching *almost* desperately to find something I can obtain with my whopping three years of college. I told Keri just today how I feel so young (at 26) when I read job posts. I don't fit most...and my mind is fully open to all the different options out there. Anyway, I'm getting a little depressed about the situation at this point, but I'm pulling through it and I'll find a job I'm proud of before I'm on the streets...