I love taking pictures, but every picture I take comes out blurry. I try to blame the camera, but I have the good fortune of having access to some really spectacular cameras and lenses.
Now, this problem wouldn’t be a big deal, but I take a lot of pictures. People who pose for these pictures always say, “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TAKING PICTURES AND CAPTURING THIS MOST IMPORTANT EVENT IN MY LIFE! I’M SO EXCITED TO SEE THESE! YOU HAVE TO SEND THEM TO ME!” and I gush, “OF COURSE!” And this is what I end up having to share:
You would think in the age of digital cameras I would know immediately that my photo is blurry, but that is not the case. I unfortunately also have a habit of drinking at events in which I am taking pictures, so at the time everything appears clear to me. I will actually look at the preview, smile, look back at the subject, and say, “Perfect. I got a good one.”
Now you’re probably muttering to yourself, “Stop drinking, Sherlock.” But alas, no, I cannot, as the drinking helps me actually follow-through on this brilliant friendly-photography troll. Every time.*
*Yeah, I actually wish this was true. I’m not a mean-spirited troll. I’m just a super incompetent photographer.
This morning our espresso machine wasn’t working. You can only imagine the fit of despair this threw me into, but fortunately that didn’t stop me from trying to fix it. First, I unplugged it. I counted to five. Then I plugged it in again. It didn’t work, so I unplugged our tea maker. What does the teamaker have to do with the espresso machine, you ask. I don’t know. At the time it felt right.
Let us continue with the new schedule! On Mondays, I endeavor to provide you compelling reviews of movies I have seen. The top of the post will have a movie poster, because that will be visually appealing. Beneath the poster will be the most thoughtful, perhaps provocative, and no-spoilers sort of review that will make you grateful you checked in here before seeing the movie.
Today’s movie is Silver Lining Playbook. We saw it on Sunday.
As you know, Sunday is the day for “Personal Anecdote.” I thought Sundays would be the day I could come up with clever stories about my life, helping me to open up with the world and share my feelings. But I have blogger’s block. If this is how you feel about me, that is fair.
Saturday’s topic is politics! While there are many devastating things happening in the world today, I have been particularly anxious to talk about how much I love the Petraus scandal. I imagine when everyone first heard about it, we did that thing where we slap our palm against our forehead in despair. Then, as we all heard more about the scandal, I think our mouths dropped and our eyes widened. I know the new tidbit that impressed me was the 20,000- 25,000 pages of emails exchanged between the Florida socialite and the other general. That is a lot of emails. They must both be formidable typists, we must have all thought, as a nation. I imagine they type no less than 45/55 words per minute, because otherwise who has the time to be such a prolific emailer!?
I also loved the FBI shirtless photo that was revealed to the public. Never before has a playful joke photo backfired so masterfully. I can’t wait until one of my friends becomes a public figure. If they become mired in a scandal, I will be the first to step forward: “He once sent me a picture of him…dressed as Quail Man, from Doug. As you can see, he is wearing his underwear outside of his pants. Read into that what you will, but I’m just saying, it’s not right. Maybe it was for Halloween, maybe it wasn’t. There’s no way to be sure with this kind of man.”
Anyway, I’ve noticed the media has been covering this scandal less, as the Israel Palestine conflict continues to get more violent. Let’s hope they remember to give this scandal continued in-depth coverage as more details emerge*!
David I love your dark curly hair.
It matches all of the cool outfits you wear.
And it matches your electronics very much as well,
But all of those items are not as swell.
I think you have a terrible addiction –
Thankfully not a medical affliction
But you love new gadgets, you really do.
Not having the new google phone makes you blue!
And you research new tablets all the time,
But I really can’t tell why each is sublime.
So you tell me, excitedly, about the new feature,
Alas it’s like speaking to a foreign creature.
It all looks the same, but it brings you such glee!
I do like to see you look so very happy
And I’ll be supportive, not be a boor,
But boy will I be mad if this love makes us poor.
As you probably guessed, one of my major goals around this site was to create an environment that encouraged me to write. I ran into a couple obstacles however:
1) Ideas. I struggled with material to write about.
2) Audience. I never wanted to offend my audience. Technically I have overcome this obstacle. By not posting, I managed to avoid ever developing an audience.
3) Being happy. Knock on wood, I’ve been really happy for years. This is terrible for the creative process, and I mostly blame David.
In addition to stifling my angst-driven creativity, David pointed out that a lot of times writers struggle when they don’t have boundaries. And this Oatmeal post confirms that as well.
So I’ve developed an ambitious schedule of topics that will serve as boundaries and provide me some structure to follow for as long as I care to.
Saturday: Politics
Sunday: Personal anecdote
Monday: Movie critique
Tuesday: Book critique
Wednesday: Day off
Thursday: Sports review
Friday: David Ode
Today is Thursday, so I have to write about sports. It’s part of the schedule.
There are lots of sports out there, but the one I’m most interested in is Comedy Sportz. Technically not your run of the mill athletic exercise, Comedy Sportz is intense, heart-rate increasing, and entertaining. Two teams of players perform a series of improvisational activities, driven by audience requests. The audience’s laughter determines the winner.
It requires team work and listening to the people around you, because you have to work off of what they say and do. I really enjoy comedy sportz, but I’m not very good at them. This is in part because I have what people refer to as a “dark” sense of humor. For example, one of our warm up exercises is called “Nothing better than!”
So one person starts:
Nothing better than a picnic!
And the next person has to add on in some way:
Nothing better than a picnic with the one you love!
And the next person contributes:
Nothing better than a picnic on a warm Fall day!
And I go:
Nothing better than hoping this picnic makes him finally love you back.
And then no one laughs, and I own what I’ve just said like it’s actually something personal. I have to do this, so no one thinks I have a bad sense of humor. “I’m going through some things,” I’ll mutter. My colleagues give me looks of sympathy. And I look embarrassed.
But I never learn! Rather, the following topics make me laugh most: loneliness, despair, fertility, infertility, and mortality, obviously.
I have my first performance Saturday. Let’s hope it goes well!
I do not care for sports. Sometimes, my boss will tell me about a really riveting football game, and I will be confused, because we’ve known each other for years, and there is no way I ever gave him the impression I understood what football even is. In fact, I sometimes throw red herrings into what may devolve into sports conversations to make it abundantly clear I am not someone who is going to be fun to talk to about sports.
Example:
Person 1: Big game this weekend.
Me: Oh yeah? Is it soccer? Basketball? What sport is in vogue right now? Tell me. Let’s talk about it.
So this past week, when David asked me if I would like to join him for a post-season baseball game, I was surprised.
“You’re asking me?!” I squeaked in bewilderment. “I know this is an important game!”
“There’s no one else that can take the afternoon off. It’s a 1pm game.” He replied.
That was a good enough response for me, so I let my employer know I would be taking Wednesday afternoon off to attend the Nationals game. I was pretty excited: the weather was perfect, and I was going to be spending it with my favorite person.
Now, even though I don’t follow sports, I do know about some basics:
Basic #1: Dress appropriately.
Teams have colors, so you should wear your team colors to the games. You should avoid wearing the other team’s colors.
That’s the most important basic rule I know, so I selected a clever ensemble that used the team colors and also presented my personal style. I didn’t have a team t-shirt, so I made a mental note to rectify that, provided I found a perfect shirt that flatters my figure.
Basic #2: If you are going to a ballpark, you must eat ballpark food.
I have actually devised a little action plan for making attending baseball games enjoyable for me. My favorite thing to do is to wander around the stadium and find the best food and drink, and then sit in my seat and eat this food and ponder thoughtfully whether the food is
1) Worth the 45 minute line
2) Going to give me a heart attack
3) Cold because it was served cold or cold because I had to walk around the stadium to get back to my seat.
The quest for food and these questions keep me occupied for at least four innings, sometimes five. Then I wait patiently for the seventh inning stretch, so I can sing take me out to the ball game.
After that, I sip on my beer and focus on the players, most specifically, their batting songs. The songs are a real reflection of the batter’s character. Unfortunately I have yet to find any correlation between how skilled a batter is and their taste in music.
Then it’s time to go home! You should know that it is very rare for me to know which team has actually won the game I’ve been watching. You should also know that because of this obliviousness, I have thoroughly enjoyed every game I have ever attended.
Everything changed at Game 3 of the Nationals Cardinals game.
On Wednesday afternoon, we arrived at the Nats stadium. When we went through the front entrance, they handed each of us a red towel.
“Oh, we can use this for theme parties!” I exclaimed. “Here, let me put yours in my purse next to mine,” I offered.
“They’re for waving around,” David explained.
“Oh,” I said, pulling my towel back out of my purse.
It was packed. There were kids everywhere, red shirts filled the stadium, and people were excited.
“Quick,” David said, “Let’s go find our seats.”
Since it was just the two of us at this game, and David didn’t have a baseball buddy with him, it dawned on me that I would not be able to approach this game like I had the others: I would have to watch it. And wave a towel around.
In the first inning, a Cardinals team player scored. This was upsetting, but I felt that if I cheered louder, and waved my towel more energetically, the Nationals could score as well to make the game more even. This strategy didn’t work, or wasn’t executed correctly, and by the second inning, Pete Kozma had scored a home run and the Cardinals were up 4-0.
I turned to David, “I know that one guy is out for the season. Do the Nationals have any other pitchers who are good?”
David replied, “Yes, they have three solid pitchers.”
“Okay, next question. Is this guy one of the three?”
David nodded, “Yes, this guy is one of the three.”
Then I got angry. “Okay, well, a lot of people are hitting the balls this pitcher is throwing. WHY IS HE STILL IN THE GAME?”
David nodded angrily with me, “I DO NOT KNOW.”
“Text your friend who works for the Nationals,” I told him. “Tell him to take him out of the game,” I was being serious.
This was the first baseball game I had ever really watched, but I sincerely felt I could be a better team manager than the person currently in charge. Why wasn’t he paying attention? Was he in a 45 minute food line?
“It doesn’t work like that,” David replied. “Plus none of my texts are going through, the stadium is packed.”
“ARGH!” I sat back, frustrated.
At some point, the catcher and some other people gathered around the pitcher.
Here is how I imagine the conversation went.
Pitcher: Hey guys. What’s up!?
Catcher: Yo bro, you feeling okay?
Pitcher: Yeah man, why do you ask?
Player 1: PULL YOUR SH*T TOGETHER A$$HOLE.
Player 2: I want to hit you with my glove, but this game is televised, so I am going to stand here and speak in a calm fashion.
Pitcher: Yes, I admit, this is not my finest hour, but please don’t take me out. I can do better.
Manager: Promise?
Pitcher: Promise.
Catcher: Okay, bro. Good talk.
Player 2: Yeah good talk. Let’s slowly walk back to our spots now.
By the seventh inning, the manager must have realized the pitcher reneged on his promise, because they finally put a new pitcher in. I got really hopeful. I thought, “This is it. They are going to make a comeback.”
Five minutes later, I asked, “David is this pitcher one of the three good ones?”
David calmly responded, “He’s pretty good.”
“Okay.” I think about it. “WHY IS HE THROWING ALL OF THESE BALLS?! The first guy could have done this.”
“They are intentionally walking the batter, so they can load the bases.” David explained.
I stared at him and then looked back to the field.
This was complete craziness to me. My understanding up until now was that the intent was to keep the players from the other team off of the bases.
“They want to get a double play,” David said. Then he continued, “It’s a bad idea.”
And yes, it was a bad idea. Next thing we knew, the Nationals were down 8 runs.
“Can they come back from this?” I asked.
David showed me the win probability graph, “Their odds of winning are lower than 1%.”
I was crushed. And I wasn’t the only one. The fans were starting to turn on each other too. Three men sitting behind us, 10 seats to the left, started yelling at the fans in front.
“STAND UP! KEEP CHEERING!” they yelled while motioning to the people to stand up in front.
“WE MAKE IT POST SEASON ONLY ONCE EVERY 60 YEARS, JERKS! STAND UP! WE NEED MORE SPIRIT!”
“I’m trying to watch the game!” The guy in front of him angrily said.
“YOU NEED TO STAND!” the fan replied.
“YOU NEED TO COOL IT!”
And they continued repeating their respective concerns loudly until security came.
The game ended, and as much as I had wanted them to, and in spite of the kids putting on their rally caps, the Nationals did not make a comeback. It was devastating. We went to the Team Store, so I could look at the apparel options, but I was so upset by the blowout that I didn’t even have the heart to buy a shirt. This was not a game I wanted to remember.
Game 4 was the next day. The game was taking place during work hours, so I couldn’t watch it, but I did follow the game win probability graph on Fangraphs. They were steady around 50% up through the eighth inning, so I found myself getting more and more excited. It wasn’t a blowout! They had a real chance! And then…then, the Nationals have hit a home run, and that man with the formidable beard and terrible batting music has hit a home run! They won! I was ecstatic and called David to see if we could get tickets to Game 5. “I want to go to the game, and I want to buy a team t-shirt!” I declared.
“Tickets are around $180 dollars and they are far away,” David told me, after looking up our options.
“Okay David, let’s just watch the game from a big screen then.”
And for the first time in my life, I was excited my Friday night plans involved watching baseball.
Friday night we headed to the bar, not sure what to expect. Within three innings, the team was making us proud. The Nats were up 6-0, and I was telling David what kind of shirt to buy me at the next post-season game.
“David, I’m really excited for my Nationals shirt. Can you drop the guy you are going with and take me? Actually, don’t worry about that, but you have to get me a shirt so I can support our team. Make sure it’s a cute one! YAY!”
I was so giddy. 6-0.
By the top of the ninth the score was 7-5, so the Cardinals had made things interesting, but the Nats still had a 96% chance of winning. Those were good odds.
Then something terrible happened. The five runs the Cardinals had achieved were disconcerting, and it seemed our pitcher was pretty jarred by the turn of events. The pitcher was throwing erratic balls. Since I had also been drinking, this was particularly infuriating.
“ARE YOU GOING TO WALK HIM TOO?!” I yelled at the television. David hushed me.
But my anger transitioned to shock in the next five minutes as the Cardinals scored four runs to change the outcome of the game. The bottom of the ninth was swift and painful as we watched the Nationals choke in every sense of the word. I was really sad. We left the bar with our heads down, stunned at the turn of events.
“Is this what it feels like to be a baseball fan?” I asked David.
“Yeah. Sometimes,” he replied. “It can hurt.”
He was right. It did hurt. But at the same time, it was kind of neat. And thus I learned Basic #3: Being a baseball fan is an emotional rollercoaster.
Nationals v. Cardinals Game 5 Rollercoaster: Courtesy of Fangraphs.comLeave a Comment
I just finished reading Perks of Being a Wallflower. I read this book because the movie preview for it looked compelling, and I wanted to be able to say smart things about the movie after seeing it, such as,
“What an interesting interpretation of the book!”
“The movie really captured the book’s essence,”
“The dialogue was delivered just as I imagined it after reading the book,” and
“Let me make myself clear: I read the book before seeing the movie, because that’s the kind of intellectually cultivated person I am.”
The book was well-written and started out rather depressing, but it had a message of hope in it that I appreciate in stories. It’s also a quick read and fortunately didn’t remind me of my high school experience but did remind me of people I knew and that we all grow up differently. That wasn’t a particularly profound statement, but these blog pages aren’t going to fill themselves with brilliance all the time. I’m not a wizard.
The book did remind me to look into The Smiths, the alternative artists that were cult favorites in the 80’s. In both this book and 500 Days of Summer, The Smiths serve as a uniting force among characters that are unique, smart and attractive. Since I’ve already found my soul mate and have a healthy cache of smart, unique and attractive friends, I don’t have to become a Smiths fan immediately, but I do think I should add appreciation of them to my list of “things to do to seem hip” list.
I hope I don’t ruin the book or movie for anyone who wants to see it, but I did find the big reveal at the end discomforting. I grew to accept Charlie’s passive, anxious behavior as part of who he was, and that was actually an interesting journey that forced me to momentarily explore my own prejudices. So when we, and everyone else, learn the thing we learn at the end, it’s almost the author’s way of justifying the protagonists’ wallflower personality throughout the book, suggesting he wouldn’t be as he is without this thing having happened, when actually it’s okay to be the way he is, without some kind of event triggering it.
Anyway, my point is, Jennie*, if you’ve read the book, we should discuss it sometime because you understand personality really well, and you are always fun to talk to.
*If you are not Jennie, I apologize for any confusion. This paragraph is only meant for Jennie, although it’s likely you are fun to talk to as well.
This week was most notable for many reasons. First, I went to the dentist for the first time in over three years on Monday. “Disgusting,” you say, “You waited over three years?”
Yes, I was nurturing the community of bacteria in my mouth so that it could prosper and thrive. And then after three years of spectacular growth, I arranged for a dental hygienist to destroy it all, like a malevolent God.
Anyway, while at the dentist, I become really certain about things. Specifically, I become really certain that I am going to change my dental hygiene habits. I’m going to floss every day. I’m going to wear that retainer once a week. I’m going to brush using that electric toothbrush in that circular pattern for 30 seconds on each quarter of my mouth, first the outside and then the inside. Upcoming visits to the dentist will not be a conversation about how I need to floss better, but rather a series of compliments around my impeccable gums and pearly whites. This is what I think while at the dentist, at the relentless mercy of the hygienist’s vicious poking device.
It has been five days since my visit, and I flossed once, half-heartedly. I’m not sure what my problem is, but if I had a therapist, I would sit on that couch and demand that we delve deeply into what this says about me. Am I my worst enemy? No. Pop Tarts are my worst enemy. That’s a discussion for another day.
This week was also notable because I cleaned our personal bathroom. The guest bathroom gets cleaned all of the time, because we can’t have people thinking we’re dirty. But our personal bathroom is abused, neglected, and has undoubtedly strengthened our immunity to some mild forms of disease. I knew it was time to clean it, because if something is so dirty that I can’t even bear to empty the royal bowels on it, then we have a problem.
I also bought a dress online. And then I went to a store and bought a belt that should match the dress. This is my first online dress. I’m nervous and excited about the whole ordeal. I’ll keep you updated!
