English does not equal American

Two posts in one day, yikes! Just couldn't let this one slip by without throwing my two cents in... Now I love me some tattoos, have three of them myself and am working to eventually get more if I can rake up the cash and find a new Chicago based artist (spending 4 hours on a bus with a fresh tat does not sound pleasant to me at all). Personally, branding is taking it a step too far for my own tastes, but I have always been a to each his own kinda gal. But I am getting ahead of myself and digressing from my original reason for the double post. Let me set the stage for you.

Months ago I was introduced to a website called Fark - it's basically an aggregate of entertaining headlines and note worthy news from around the world. I check it out every couple of days, though sometimes the fark intro is better than the actual article. It keeps me up to date, provides me with entertaining retelling opportunities at the bar/coffee shops, and often makes me shake my head in disbelief at what is considered acceptable writing and grammar from our journalistic friends (and before you comment on my grammar fuck ups - I'm a blog, I'm usually sneaking these in at work, and I'm allowed to suck now and then).

So today, I'm cruising through the headlines list and saw this, listed under "stupid" and I couldn't resist...

Old and busted: tattoos. New hotness among idiots: branding.
""It was an incredible experience. There was smoke coming out of my arm and my
burnt flesh smelled like a cross between chicken and bacon"

Anything with "Bacon" in the title will get my attention. The link takes me to an article from the Daily Mail, which happens to be a UK publication (knowledge which I gathered by the web address ending in .co.uk and prices in the article having the funny little euro symbol instead of the $). The article goes on to say that branding is becoming more and more popular as a form of expression now that tattoos and piercings are becoming more commonplace. Not a big deal, pretty much what I was expecting from the lead in. But then I start to read the comments and come across this -

"I thought I seen it all with the tattoos and body piercings. We as a country
must have gone off on the deep end." (Emphasis all mine)

My problem with this comment? The guy is from Casper fucking Wyoming - which means (unless there is a Casper, WY in England) this guy is writing from the good old U.S. of A.

So basically what we seem to have is 1) a European article, 2) regarding a European trend (which may or may not be happening here in the states), and 3) an American commenter automatically assuming it's all about him. I love that the Internet has opened up an eight lane super highway of information, readily available to everyone/anyone (ie those with money and time but that's a post for another day), but apparently I need to point out that just because something is written in English, does not mean it originates from America.

Home?

Last night when I went to bed, I turned off all my lights and shut the door. This might not seem very out of the ordinary for most people, but for me it was the first time since June 2006 that I had more than one light to turn off and a door to actually shut. I am officially moved into my new one bedroom apartment. It has 3 closets, 4 doors, 5 rooms, and 11 windows. It's fantastic. It's also messy, completely disorienting and utterly too quiet, but all those things will either get fixed or I will get used to. I've already hit up my new favorite grocery store and taken down an 8 oz. container of their wonderful guacamole. Unpacking is taking a little longer than I thought, I did manage to get (in the following order) enough bathroom stuff to shower and brush my teeth, my movies and most of my books out and shelved. The next few weeks will be consumed with unpacking, sorting and filling in the holes left by studio living. I think I might be quite happy in this new space...but only time will tell.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can....

As the temperature falls, and the leaves change color, the fall/winter season is settling down amongst us. Everywhere around me people are picking out pumpkins and filling baskets with apples, stocking up on wood for winter fires, and basically drifting down into hibernation season. Unfortunately for me it means moving season. Luckily the lease I am signing is going to run to the end of August 2008 so I can get off the winter moving cycle but for now, I am currently in a third floor walk up and am moving to another third floor walk up just a bit down the road.

I got really energized about 3 weeks ago and started packing up all the easy things to pack like books and movies. Once those were done I hit a brick wall and have spent the past week just staring around at my apartment wondering how I accumulated this much junk. As of Tuesday however, I could put if off no longer. The lease was officially signed, the keys handed over and my new life in a one bedroom apartment began. With this new life beckoning I again got energized and decided to start my move. With a rented car and a few hours to kill before a friend got off work to help I started the laborious process of moving the books. Impressively, I got 9 boxes out of my apartment and into the car. The reverse was not as impressive, after 7 boxes I decided that quitting and eating was a whole lot smarter than trying to continue and possibly killing myself. So quit I did, and went to get food and reinforcements in the form of a friend who was silly enough to offer to help with this process.

Once I was fed and had the friend in tow, we headed back to Apartment #1 and reloaded the rental car (a prius by the way, which is just fun to drive). Another half dozen trips or so down the stairs and we were ready to head to the new place. With his help, I got everything out of the car this time and was feeling pretty accomplished as I dropped him off, ready to go right back at it the next day. This is the point where the fantasy crumbled.

I got back to my apartment only to realize that it looked as though I had done nothing. All those trips (with some rough math I think I did about 120 flights of stairs Tuesday night - 60 up and 60 down) and I still had a studio apartment full of crap. Dejected, but still ready to try again, I crawled into bed and went to sleep. Then Wednesday morning came and with it came the leg cramps from hell. I am about as far away from "in-shape" as Bush is from being a good President. I didn't stretch (who stretches for moving?), I didn't plan (Jeans are what I always wear post 5 o'clock) and I didn't take a hot bath when I was done (but the bed was so warm and comfy).

Wednesday was supposed to include two more helpers - a good friend and her boyfriend - with the move so that some of the bigger furniture could go. Turns out there was some miscommunication (they thought I would be closer to done than I was), a lack of sleep on the part of the new movers, and a shortened visiting schedule (it's a long distance relationship), so I insisted they skip out and stay home. This left me with dependable friend from last night and another chance to clear out some stuff. So I rented a car and headed over to pick him up again (another prius, this one with a camera for when you reverse!) .

However, by 6:30 Wednesday evening, I knew it was worthless. Though he assured me that once I got some of the bigger pieces moved it would look like I was making progress, I was too dejected to try again. So instead, I offered him the options of A) moving more crap or B) going to Target (Hey, I had the car already rented). Like a good friend, he chose Target.

So now it's Thursday. I haven't moved anything since Tuesday, but I got in an epsom salt bath last night and have 3 bags of Halloween candy to keep my energy up tonight! And though my legs are still killing, I know that I have to try again or this is never going to get done. And tonight is the only night I know for sure I will have a second set of hands to help. So, like the little engine that could, I will just keep on keeping on. The plan is to rent the SUV that is near my house, and get the wicker hutch thingy and at least one bookshelf over to the new place (and with any luck the rest of the boxes that are packed will go to). Cross your fingers and wish me luck (or just send over boys in their 20's who are bored and looking to do a good deed :)

In the midst of

I'm in the midst of reading two books at the moment while waiting for my next two graphic novels in the Fable series to come in, yes I am a dork, I know. First is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. It's the true story of how her and her family took themselves off the commercial food grid for a year. It's amazing, disturbing and enlightening. It makes you want to eat locally and organically, but it also makes me realize that with absolutely no cooking skills whatsoever, it will be a difficult task for me. I need to find a boy that cooks.

Second is Final Exits by Michael Largo. I found it on Bookcellar's website and it is fantastic. Basically it is an encyclopedia of the ways in which we die. And it's illustrated. I just finished Apple Cider (182,904 E. coli deaths since 1930, and in 1996, E. coli from unpasteurized apple cider killed 34 people), next up is Appliances.

I also just rediscovered the joy of Green Day's music. Old school style with the Dookie album. So far Sassafras Roots is my favorite.

Just a few bits of news to get that song out of your head

A day on the front page of the Chicago Tribune tells me this about the world....We are still senselessly killing each other and ourselves. Just when you thought that stupidity and hate were reserved for those obviously less educated then yourself, life smacks you in this face with this guy (complete with disturbing quotes, though the one about not reading the Bible might have some weight to it). A smoking ban I'm actually okay with since it makes sense and I don't spend a lot of time at the beach - my only question is can I get busted walking down the sidewalk next to a park? Cause that would suck. And the article that will hopefully keep a smile on my face for the rest of the day. Now I can stop the internal debate over the ethics of stealing (thanks Will!) and just get my Stewart for free.

It's 3 AM I must be lonely

It's 3 AM, Saturday morning. No, I did not just get home from some raging, Friday night shindig. I was, in fact, home by 8:45 and in bed at 10:00. I was woken up at 2 by my neighbor coming home and again at 3 when my neighbor kicked out a guy from his apartment. By all understanding of the conversation through the wall, I think my neighbor had a homeless guy over for after bar drinks....and, while said homeless man cannot stay tonight, he is welcome back on Sunday...

Oh, and the Unknown phone calls started again. And now I have Matchbox 20 stuck in my head. That's all. Good night.

It's all about the G Man

I have long predicted that some day Google will take over the world - even though it still shows up with the little red squiggly line in my spell check. The top two stories this morning in the online edition of the Chicago Tribune just give us more evidence in that direction.

First up is how pissed off the American right is about Google's random doodles on its homepage. I guess it's a slow day at church. Second, Chicago has become the next city on Google's all seeing mapability list. It's simultaneously intriguing and creepy. I can see the front door (and alley) of my work...I'm just waiting for one of the pics to bust me smoking.

If we continue to cut, we will eventually disappear

If you know me you know that I don't want kids. But you also know that I have the utmost respect for women that do. It's a hard and often thankless job. You bust your ass to create, breathe life into, and then raise the next generation and our society does very little to celebrate you, help you, or honor you. One day a year and 12 weeks maternity leave dedicated to mothers is not nearly enough to show the women out there who bear children that we love, respect, and are dedicated to them.

Child bearing is just about as natural a part of life as you can get. Women have been going through it for centuries of centuries, in what we would now consider unsafe and unhygienic situations. But you know what - they did it anyway, and some of those babies must of made it, because we are all here today as proof of their successes.

My body as a woman has the parts within to create and sustain life. From the age of 11 to whenever I cycle through menopause, as far as I know I will be able to bring about a child (given the necessary male contribution of course). My body will change, adapt, grow, shrink, swell and manipulate itself all to house a new life. And while I hope never to actually experience it, I think it's pretty damn amazing.

So it is with great sorrow and sadness for our culture that I read this article in the New York Times yesterday. We have created an economically profitable position in our society that revolves around making sure women are "feeling self-conscious or resentful about their appearance" post pregnancy. High end parenting magazines are running articles that describe "postpregnancy breasts as “the ultimate indignity”" All in an effort to promote the "Mommy Makeover". The cosmetic surgery industry is surging in post delivery liposuction, breast augmentations, and tummy tucks. Congratulations America, we have successfully disgraced and shunned the post pregnancy body. The same body that without its scientific, life giving processes we would not be here today.

This phenomena upsets me greatly. There is no stone unturned when it comes to attacking the female form. So far we have convinced ourselves that we are too fat, our breasts are never large enough, the laugh lines around our eyes and mouths indicating a lively life are now banished from sight. Mothers are paying for their teenagers nips and tucks. There is no stage, not maiden, mother or crone, that is safe from the prying eyes and scalpels of American ideas of beauty and happiness. And now, one of the oldest rituals and experiences of the female form - childbirth - has fallen under the knife. How do we survive in a world like this?

Zones

A couple of weeks ago, maybe even a month or so, a friend pointed out to me a new tag showing up around Lincoln Square. On every parking meter we saw were these bright yellow stickers that said "Zone 6" on them...after lengthy debate that most certainly centered around fantastic German beer from our neighborhood Hutenbar, we decided they couldn't possibly be tags, no tagger has that much patience or predictability. These stickers were methodically placed everywhere and were conventionally stuck at perfectly straight angles. I wondered if it was some new kind of parking system they would eventually introduce. But by the time our beers were done I had pretty much moved the idea and the ponderment to the back of my brain where I store most of my random, useless data.



Fast forward to today. I got off the train and saw all along Wabash Ave. little blue stickers! These were not just on the parking meters (for downtown they have the parking station, not the individual meters) but on the street signs as well. These, just like my little yellow friends up north, were the same size and font but said "Zone 1" instead. For some reason my last DC trip popped into my brain where the taxi system works on zones for the figuring of fares....way to many f's in that one.... So now I'm wondering if Chicago is trying to institute the same method? Will our transportation now be dependant on zones instead of distance? Am I just totally making all this shit up? Anyone in the Chicago area, or who has more time than me to surf the wide Internet world and figure it out for me, let me know what the new "Zones" are all about.