I am back. That is to say: I have changed locations again, I am back to one of my homes, to one of my comfort zones.

The end of my summer was just that: an end. Unspectacular. No fireworks. I played “Born to Run” and drove 70 on roads with 45 speed limits going home from work and felt at peace when I left Westmoreland County. I will be back.

School this year is perhaps the most intense it has ever been. 18 credits and working part-time for America Reads has made me have two crying spells already.

My subjects:

- Fiction Studio

- Literature of Pop Culture: Harry Potter

- Bookmaking

- Reading & Writing Brooklyn

- The Professional Workplace

- Writer’s Forum

- Independent Study (about the lexicon of feminist journalism)

Harry Potter is one of the best classes, but at the same time, also the hardest. I forgot that the books are, at their shortest, 350 pages. The next one is over 600, and I have a week to read it. Ouch.

I turned twenty a few weeks ago: it was unceremonious. I worked all day and went out for a lovely birthday dinner with my friends. The night before, however, my friends baked me a cake:

That is perhaps the most unflattering picture ever taken of me, but I look joyous. And that is what matters.

I am already surprised at my resilience. I have written several stories and have yet to hit a block. I even have more material started for the future. I know it is not perfect, but I am trying. A writer-in-polishing.

This is all what matters.

See, I could never do this for a living. Primarily because, obviously, I can’t seem to update on a consistent schedule. Meh. I have been well. And by “well,” I mean “still alive,” so I’ll take it.

I drove out to Cleveland a few weeks ago. Amanda went to visit Adam, who lives in Cleveland like I live in Pittsburgh (close, but not downtown) so I got up much earlier than I normally do and drove. It was relaxing and made me realize that I am truly my mother’s child–I made it from east of Pittsburgh to west of Cleveland in two hours and some change. I drive fast, but cautiously. The best way to describe the place Adam lives in is by the fact that the closest grocery store to him is Trader Joe’s. We went to a Mexican fusion-esque restaurant in a cute little neighborhood and then went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the Bruce [!!!] exhibit.

It was wonderful. The only thing I’m not a fan of is that the building is a large glass pyramid, so all the escalators are sort of suspended in air as you go from one level to the next–and I am afraid of medium-distance heights. I kept my eyes closed a lot. But there were two levels of Bruce, which was amazing. Everything from the clothes he wore on album covers to the dining room table he wrote lyrics at. Amanda and Adam, not being Bruce fans, weren’t as interested, but I was enchanted. Ah! What a man. It inspired me to buy a print of this for my dorm room:

I am excited to recieve it. And hang it, of course.

We went to dinner afterwards, and I must say, Cleveland has amazing sushi. It was just wonderful, in the way that seeing your friends at “home” is.

Although “home” is something I’ve been struggling with for the past few months [years?]–I find myself annoyed, disenchanted with places after a while. Toledo never felt properly like home, Brooklyn is lovely but I get tired of the rat race, Pittsburgh is sometimes a bit too sleepy for my tastes. I feel like a nomad, but attempt to bring home with me everywhere–I carve a niche wherever I go and put my name on it, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy with it. I’ve always kept at least one box packed at every new place.

I haven’t done much back to school shopping–though it is something I love doing–because, for some reason, this year I’m a champion of simply revitalizing the old. Don’t throw it away, heck, don’t even give it away, keep it as long as you can. I bought two bags this summer, which is like some sort of record for me. And they were only 50 cents each at a rummage sale. They’re perfectly good bags.

My family is holding a little cookout before I go away, at my aunt and uncle’s house. They have a pool. I forgot how much I liked swimming until we stopped by one day and they invited me in. It’s awesome. Even if I tend to under-sunscreen and wind up with red skin for a few days.

I am excited for school to start. The classes I am taking this semester are absolutely wonderful. And I have an awesome roommate. In fact, I think I’ll end this entry with a picture of us that Amanda took in Cleveland.

I am excited for this year. Hopefully it will be the best yet.

.

….lives in blissfull ignorance on her chest.

Could this, the insular “brilliance” of one mortally engorged woman be a contributing factor behind California’s being broke and breaking even further????

Never make fun of the South again…..EVER!!

,

The only thing missing was a verbal homage to “U.S. Americans who aren’t  able to do so because uh….Osama people out there, who don’t have maps and our education in every county like Iraq and Africa and such as and should help the Iraq and Asian countries and everywhere  and with such as maps so we can secure our future for U.S. Americans everywhere!!!

Such as.

;

I am so very bad at blogging. I guess I just dont have anything to talk about?

I returned to my employment at the liquor stores. I’ve been to 17 of the 25 stores in my county. I play favorites. I memorize wine reccommendations. It’s boring sometimes, but it’s good money, and I genuinely enjoy working with some of the people I work with. Given, no one’s under the age of about 40, but it’s interesting to meet so many fully defined personalities. You learn a lot about a person by the way they approach their job.

I finally got my JesusPhone. Pre-ordered it, got into the AT&T store at roughly 7 am to pick it up. It’s stupid to say, but I don’t know how I lived without it. This is only the second time I’ve been on the computer for three days: it can just do everything. I have a new phone number, too: a new home location. Interesting.

I saw Bruce Springsteen. I don’t even think I got to that, it’s been so long. I went with my uncle Patrick, aunt Cheryl, and cousins. Patrick’s a Bruce Fan. Or, as I like to call them “Phish fans without all the drugs.” You know the type: every band has them, but Bruce has a lot of devotees. Look at me, calling him Bruce. Like I know the guy.

The show was excellent. They play what they call “Stump the Band”: fans bring signs with songs written on them that they don’t think the E Street Band can play. Bruce picked “Like a Rolling Stone,” which was, as it sounds, absolutely fantastic. Bruce was the downhome working-class boy to Dylan’s rebellious artist: both were desperately needed in their musical climates and have had a glorious career. The entire show was amazing in general: Bruce doesn’t look a day over 40 [he's almost 60!] and I have no idea where he gets the energy to run around the stage like that. I have the on my iPod and I listen to it and smile.

Today’s bill of events: outlet shopping and a cookout at my brother’s house. My niece, who is about to be 5, just got her first cellphone and I want to see what she thinks of it. Oh, lazy days.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/27/us/27marriage.html?_r=1&hp

So, the California Supreme Court upheld Proposition 8 today. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Prop 8 bans gay marriage.

My friends, this is a slippery slope. Why?

Because we are now allowed to VOTE on whether or not people have RIGHTS.

People like to use the “but the majority! but the majority voted!” excuse, but let’s reflect.

Who started this country? A minority. They were being persecuted for who they were and left to start a new, better place.

I somehow doubt that minority would be pleased with the new majority.

I, for one, don’t want anyone to be able to vote on whether or not I have a basic right in this country. Tell you what, I won’t tell you you don’t have the right to do something, you don’t tell me.

… and isn’t that the Republican ideal to begin with? Lack of government interference in everyday life?

This is just all so twisted and so backwards. I can’t even think about it. But it’s scary. And you should be scared, if you are any type of minority: gender, race, religion. Because who knows what can happen now that a precedent is set.

So, because I suck at actually updating about my life, I figure I could at least post SOMETHING, so here’s my review of a few of the Spring ‘09 television season finales.

This’ll be behind an HTML cut so nothing is spoiled for anyone!

So, come right this way for reviews of… CSI! CSI: NY! Grey’s Anatomy! Private Practice! Criminal Minds! NCIS! and… actually, I think that’s it.

CSI: Oh my God, was that anti-climactic! Okay, let’s rewind a little. This season, the following has happened: Warrick was killed, the undersherrif was prosecuted for his murder, Sara left, Grissom left, Ray (Laurence Fishburne) entered, and a new inter-office romance bloomed. Or started (Hodges and Mindy!) Okay. So, someone dying? Would be overplayed. Heck, even someone leaving or getting fired would be over the top. However: we couldn’t figure out *something* better? A cliffhanger, even! The season ended with Ray ~killing a suspect~. Oh Gawd. B-, but only because Laurence Fishburne looked genuinely distressed at the sight.

CSI: NY: Brokay. If we’re going to kill someone, let’s kill someone at least pretty well-known, not a sometimes-shows-up character. Oh, but then! The ending will be someone shooting up the bar where all the CSIs and cops are hanging out. It’s a cop-out [see what I did there?] C+, mostly because the acting on this show is really goddamn bad, especially Detective Flack’s reaction to his girlfriend getting killed.

Grey’s Anatomy: A+: “007? It’s George! George is John Doe!” I don’t give a fuck that Izzie has cancer, but that twist? I jumped up and yelped. And I am a Seasoned Television Addict who does not do such things pretty much ever. Well-played, Shonda Rhimes, well-played.

Private Practice: Ahhhhh! Violet! I was all “Oh, they’ll save her! People are calling, it’ll be okay!” Bzzzzzt! A cliffhanger for the ages, folks, and a damn good one at that. Pete walking away at the last second? Twists all up in my guts. A, very solid and very lovely.

Criminal Minds: La la laaaa, a serial killer who feeds his victims to the pigs, la la laaaa, they solved the case and saved the last girl, the brother of a victim killed the mastermind behind the killings, la dee daaa holy shit someone is going to shoot Hotch. Criminal Minds has never Not ended a season with a cliffhanger, so I could see this coming from a mile away. Well, maybe not the exact twist, but a twist nonetheless. Anyone else know what the maskedman was referring to? I have an idea, but I’m not sure. B-, for predictability.

NCIS: This show? The past five episodes could have been season finales. But then! Gasp! Tony, Ziva, Gibbs, and the new director guy who isn’t Jenny go to Tel Aviv! Anddddd… Ziva almost kills Tony, and leaves NCIS. Boo-hoo. But then! She’s being tortured! For NCIS secrets! And she’s not giving them up! Awww, she’s loyal to America afterall. I suspect Gibbs will save her in the end, because Gibbs does that kind of thing. B+, for a solid finale, but not an A because goddamn, this show is just overly climactic all the time!

I’ve been so busy as of recent! It’s finals time, coupled with moving-in-a-week time, and I’ve just been going, going, going.

Working long hours for America Reads: Tuesday was Tutor Awards, Thursday I went with my kindergarten class on a field trip to the dentist’s, and Friday was the Spelling Bee, all large events that had me on site at 9 am and working til at least 2.

Tuesday, after following Peggy (the organizer for America Reads) around and keeping her organized, as well as setting up and taking down the table in the lobby no less than four times, I was awarded “Tutor of the Year,” which surprised me since a) it’s my first year and b) I don’t think I’ve done anything above and beyond what my job entails. Apparently I was wrong.

Monday will be my last day with the kindergarteners. I am rather bummed about this. They can be tiring, obnoxious, and far too honest (no, those bumps on my face don’t hurt and no, I am not pregnant, damnit, just fat!) but they are awesome. It’s bizarre to get a feeling of accomplishment from a kid being able to spell “bike” on their own or knowing what a “bouquet” is, but it’s a great feeling.

I have a long to-do list for the summer. I am hoping to connect up with Open Thread, a sort-of writing community in Pittsburgh. I need to re-decorate my room. I need to go through my things and discard as needed. I need to get a new cellphone. Well, maybe not need. Want. Gotta feed the American economy, you know. Save businesses and all that.

Martha Stewart, “lifestyle designer,” came to speak at Pratt, giving a lecture called “Artistic Inspiration as a Basis for Business.” I managed to get a ticket in the standing-room-only Memorial Hall, just a few rows back from the woman herself. She was exceedingly lovely: all glowy and gracious like she appears to be everywhere. She essentially does what I would love to do: turning awesome things into products for people.

Her process is meticulous: when she was creating her paint line for Sherwin Williams, she explained, she and her assistants brushed her cats, pulled the perfect shades from the strands of fur, and then re-created the colors by mixing various tempra paints. They created over 200 colors for the line, and when they turned them over to the Sherwin Williams people, they said “they had a computer that would re-create the colors.” A few weeks later, and they came back. “The computer could only make 5 of the shades properly,” Martha said. “They had to hand-mix the rest.”

Martha has, frankly, taken over the world. I wasn’t even aware of how far her influence spreads: a paint line for Sherwin Williams (best-selling shade: Newman’s Blue, which was picked from a picture of Paul Newman’s eyes), a collection of bedding and bath products for K-Mart, a fine china collection for Wedgewood, a line of craft supplies for Wal-Mart, higher-end bed and bath products for Macy’s, a furniture line, several television shows, numerous books, and several blogs, one of which is “written” by her two dogs and averages 15,000 hits a day.

And perhaps it just makes sense, how she’s done this. She explained this, which, in today’s market, seems like it’s forgotten:

We just want to make the best stuff we can possibly make with the best designs… I tell my team, “we are all the customer…” I am the customer.

The best part, though, may have been the Q & A at the end. A girl got up and, after explaining how interesting she thought Martha’s business was and how much she appreciated hearing how Martha thinks, she asked:

“What’s the biggest distaster that’s happened so far?”

And Martha, in the moment that made me admire her more than anything else, chuckled and said, simply:

“I think we all know what that is.”

At a friend’s urging, we have added a new category: GrammarGrave for those grammar issues that may no longer be worth pressing.

We will, hesitantly, add to this category as our language evolves (whether we like it or not).

Please stay tuned, and, submit your candidates for burial.

Currently with the morticians:

“none” as singular (originated as a contraction for not one). See our earlier post (and comments) “Accepted through misuse“

“lay” vs. “lie” as to be in a horizontal or recumbent position, or to recline. See our earlier post: “Lie like a rug … “

“like” vs. “such as” or “as though.” See our earlier post: “Like, totally … NOT“

There was a dilemma with Chris Brown: he, apparently, liked both Taerica and Leiashia and couldn’t make up his mind.

I miss playing dress-up and make believe; so I sat in the “house area” of the classroom and listened to the drama arising. Chris Brown kept calling the house to talk to both of them. At one point, he was arrested, then sent to jail, then got out. I told them Chris Brown wasn’t worth sticking around for if he couldn’t make up his mind: not what I wanted to say (“Chris Brown can be a very mean man and has hurt women before, be careful”) but still a tidbit of wisdom. They were wearing high heels too big for their feet and kept sliding across the floor instead of walking. Make-believe-world.

And today was just too, too beautiful. Friday Forum was a good one: Doug Anderson and Michael Kimball were both intensely interesting people and quite good writers with excellent answers. Then a picnic on the lawn with what Adrian and I decided was a band that had spontaneously formed just for the day: a glockenspiel, violin, tambourine, and two guitars. We ate hot dogs in a sunny patch of grass and afterward, Jenny and I got chocolate milkshakes. It was 70 out and I put on a pair of sunglasses.

It doesn’t feel like the end of the semester. I feel like I have another month left or something: something feels weird. Or maybe this is supposed to be the way it feels. Like there’s not an end: a short break, and back again. Not so segmented. Hmm. Perhaps.

Monday, I am going to see Martha Stewart give a lecture at Pratt about turning one’s artistic ideas into a business. She’s one of my idols in that way that she’s doing what she loves and yet is savvy enough to be immensely successful. I am excited.

So, two more episodes, and, I must say, I totally retract my flip-floppy review.

This television show: you need to be watching it.

Seriously, a crime drama hasn’t been like this in a damn long time. Obviously, it’s not trying to be Law and Order; it’s certainly not a procedural. It’s not a CSI. Sure, the crimes themselves do that lovely thing where they wrap up by the end of the hour, but it’s not about the crimes; it’s about the characters. Little details like the squad moving the egomaniac cop’s desk into the holding cell: he returns, is flabbergasted as to why his desk is in the cell and a suspect is sitting in it and, as the camera re-focuses on another conversation in the room, the cop and the suspect play tug-of-war with the desk. Writers, fabulous.

This retraction of the flippy-floppy review may or may not have been influenced by the following: a mention of Myrtle Ave, the use of Cat Power’s “Metal Heart” in a scene, the idea of a “stakeout date” (where a cop meets their significant other at a restaurant near the site of a long stakeout), the handlebar moustache that Delahoy sports, Terry Kinney joining the ranks of bald supervisors of police squads, Amber Tamblyn’s awesome hair, and/or Harold Perrineau being my new television crush.

Watch The Unusuals on Wednesday nights at 10 PM, or you can catch up, as of this posting, with all four episodes at abc.com.

I’m going to try something new here at KatieOh.com, and maybe write some reviews of things. Television, concerts, music, movies… what have you.

So, first up: The Unusuals.

ABC’s website has this to say about the show:

Like a modern-day M*A*S*H, The Unusuals explores both the grounded drama and comic insanity of the world of New York City police detectives, where every cop has a secret. It also helps to have a twisted sense of humor, since every day could be your last.

The first five minutes of the pilot introduce us to Detective Casey Shraeger (Amber Tamblyn), a tough-girl cop who’s secretly a trust fun baby, who is working undercover as a hooker. A car pulls over next to her and the driver informs her she is being reassigned, effective immediately, to the 2nd Precinct. This is Seargeant Harvey Brown (Terry Kinney), who shows up a disappointingly small amount in the series. Shraeger is being reassigned, she is told, so she can help investigate the murder of the previous partner of the vaguely-mysterious Detective Jason Walsh (Jeremy Renner), who owns a diner that he only opens for a few hours every night, with no actual staff.

The rest of the cast of characters include Detective Leo Banks (Harold Perrineau), a man who’s terrified of dying at 42 (his current age) like the rest of the men in his family, Detective Eric Delahoy (Adam Goldberg), who is unafraid of death since being diagnosed with a brain tumor, Detective Henry Cole (Joshua Close), a born-again Christian, Detective Eddie Alvarez (Kai Lennox), the obligatory egomaniac cop, and Detective Allison Beaumont (Monique Gabriela Curnen), who appears to be there solely as the other hot lady cop that’s essential in crime dramas.

So, an ensemble cast. Now, as many of you will recall, I have recently been obsessed with Oz, HBO’s first drama and a magnificent piece of television with a brilliant ensemble cast. It also does not help The Unusuals that two ex-Oz actors (Kinney, who was Tim McManus, Oz’s unit supervisor, and Perrineau, who was Augustus Hill, the brilliant narrator and and murderer in Emerald City) are in their ranks because, frankly, I’m rather disappointed.

Given, it’s only two episodes in. But these characters still seem like charicatures of themselves. The born-again Christian, the cop afraid of death, the guy with the well-kept secret, the rich girl trying to make it in a tough profession, the hot one, the egomaniac: I’ve seen these people before, perhaps never in one television show, but I’ve seen them done over and over again regardless. There are some incredible acting chops in this program, so it may help to overcome that, but I’m afraid that, by the time the actors are able to get into their roles, the audience will be bored and have moved on to a new program.

What kills me especially about The Unusuals is that it has such a brilliant set-up: a return to the comedy found in law enforcement. The guy in the hot dog costume that holds up a bank, the guy who serial kills cats: these people are Unusual. And, if a touch better-written, could be quite funny. (Writers, that means let go of the obligatory puns, please.)

The problem is that the Unusual detectives have to compete for screen time with the Unusual crimes, and due to all this Unusual all over the place, it falls flat as a whole with under-development.

However, I do see a bit of promise with this show, primarily from this exchange between Shraeger and Walsh in the most recent episode:

Shraeger: I think it’s time we have the conversation.

Walsh: Conversation?

Shraeger: The “porn stash” conversation.

Walsh: Big porn fan, are you?

Shraeger: No, like. Listen, the “what do we do if something happens” conversation. When Kowalski died, you went straight to his locker and you got rid of all his contraband.

Walsh: We’ve been partners a week, you thinkin’ about me dying?

Shraeger: What, is it too early?

Walsh: I suppose not. All right. So, what d’ya got, drugs, guns, Nazi plate under the bed?

Shraeger: No. I have a diary that I wouldn’t want anyone to read.

Walsh: A diary. “Davis was mean to me today,” that kind of thing?

Shraeger: No. Sexual. Stories… about me. Y’know.

Walsh: Fine, where is it?

Shraeger: It’s in a lock box in my closet. All right.

Walsh: (turns to leave)

Shraeger: No, what about you?

Walsh: What about me? What am I hiding? What do you think, Casey?

Shraeger: Look, I don’t figure you as the sexual deviant type or… (studies him for a moment) I know what it is. You write poetry.

Walsh: (smirks) You’re good.

So far, I’d have to say my rating of The Unsuals is 3 cupcakes out of a possible 5. I have my fingers crossed for this show, though, if they work out the kinks with the writing.

It’s just a good day for the Boss.

I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl, I don’t know when, we’re gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go and we’ll walk in the sun
But till then, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run

And, oh, perhaps I am pretentious, but today my professor told me he couldn’t see me in the pieces I had turned in and I nearly wept. I know it is just these pieces, because I have been told on several occasions that I come through in my writing, but goodness, I nearly packed my bag and headed back to Pittsburgh just then.

Amanda and I picked our room: 305 Willoughby. She is going to paint a portrait of me. I am going to read her my words.

I have yet to actually cry after a critique, but I suspect it may come soon. It’s not that I have enough faith in the pieces that it’s heartbreaking to hear that people don’t like them; it’s just the knowledge that oh, goodness, I just have so far to go. It is what I am here for.

Eric Rosenblum (who, by the way, was attempting to describe a scene in a story in workshop that involved a woman shaving her pubic hair and used the word “genitailia” and we were all giggling, even him) gave us an essay by Amy Hempel to read. In it, she describes being in Gordon Lish’s workshop at Columbia.

She says this:

There is one last thing on this subject of How Hard. Lish says you must have a deep sense of how hard a job it is in order to have a shot at greatness, so that you are not satisfied too easily. Which is why, when one of our number says that it is too hard and she is going to quit, Lish says, Now.

“Now you are ready to begin.”

On eBay: “Product pages for popular items like CDs, DVDs, video cameras, and cell phones.” Should be: such as

We prefer “such as” in cases such as this … what is an item that is like a CD? Maybe a record? What is an item that is like a cell phone? Maybe a PDA? How about saying there is a sale on brand names like “Polo” and “Anne Klein?” What are brands that are like those? If one means to say that the brands “Polo” and “Anne Klein” are on sale, then it should be expressed without the word “like!” For instance, “There is a sale on brand names such as “Polo” and “Anne Klein.”

Now, we may have more blog posts like this (because they will be similar in nature), however, you’ll never see us drinking anything like Dr. Pepper … we always drink soda such as Dr. Pepper because there’s nothing like it!!!

Send us your observations of this, like, totally, screwball usage of the word “like.” Had you ever thought about it before?

BTW, this post is for Jeff!

1: ABC has a new show called “The Unusuals.” It’s a crime show about the NYC police unit that deals with crimes that are, well, unusual. For example, in the opening episode: a crime committed by a man wearing a hot dog suit, and a serial killer… who murders cats. So, whatever, interesting setup. [I won't go into a full review here, though I have a lot to say about it.] BUT! Parts were filmed in Fort Greene! There were no street signs shown, but as the characters were walking past a pole, it had one of those “Fort Greene Historical District” signs at the top. AWESOME.

2: Today I sat next to one of the actors from Oz on the subway. I about peed myself. AWESOME.

Disclosure: This may make me sound like a pretentious jerk. Frankly, I’m irritated enough to not care.

I am studying writing. My peers, who are good writers, assure me that I am not the worst person in the world at this. My work has been published. I am fairly certain I am going to be able to make this a career.

That being said: I am sick of this trend. This trend being the  comment or message from someone who had no real interest in writing before saying “oh, I’ve been writing recently too! Look!” followed by said writing being awful. This is often coupled with a “oh, I’m not very good at this! It’s probably awful!” And yet, you posted it on the internet, of all places.

Let me ask you this: what about the arts makes everyone think “I can do it, too!”? I would never “dabble” in surgery. I couldn’t practice law “on the side” or sneak away at night for my second job as a nuclear physicist.

I have a theory: it is the things we are taught to do young. We write. We draw with crayons. We fingerpaint. People make a living doing this, right? I can, too!

No, you can’t. If I am reading your work and your characters are muttering, sighing, and bellowing sharply, deeply, and coyly, you are doing it wrong. Just because you can use a thesaurus doesn’t mean you’re actually good at stringing words together. If your story ends in sunshine and rainbows, I will vomit a little in my mouth. I actually brainstormed it and cannot think of one good story or book that ends with everything being “okay.” Perhaps Anthem, but that’s a character escaping from an oppressive world into an uncertain one. Or maybe To Kill A Mockingbird, but even then, it’s not exactly happy, what with Atticus’ client being killed and the elder Ewell trying to kill Scout. Even if things end up “all right,” traumatic things and weird twists have led to this “all right” state of being.

This isn’t just writing, though I thought I’d start with that for a prep. These days, everyone’s a photographer. It’s kind of unfortunate and scary on some level, the ease with which people can pick up a digital camera and photoshop and suddenly are “artists” in their own mind. My friend, do you know what an enlarger is? Do you know how to develop photographs from film directly? No? And you’re a photographer?

Of course, this is not to say that there can’t be artists hidden in every day people. Clarence Darrow, for a time, shared an office with an unsuccessful lawyer by the name of Edgar Lee Masters. That lawyer, on the side, wrote The Spoon River Anthology. And this is also not to say that some widely-accepted “artists” aren’t bad, but I would reckon that more often than not, they are openly criticized for it. See my unabashed over-used example of Stephanie Meyer.

To bring it back around, I suppose I just get upset when people declare they are “making art” and then it turns out bad and they don’t seem to realize it. I’m devoting my life to this. I am sitting here, having spent hours [no, seriously, hours] just thinking of the correct way to phrase things in this blog post. If I were to clock how long it takes me to write a short story, including the editing process, to get it to where I’m not ashamed of it for looking “amateurish” it would probably be no less than 20 hours. And that’s for something that’s maybe 5, 6,000 words. You word-vomit this thing onto the internet and expect me to pat you on the back for it? I don’t think so. I’m concerned that you don’t think it’s bad and, perhaps even worse, you think I will give you some sort of positive reaction for it when I just spent a whole semester working towards writing a piece that is only half-good by my own standards.

If you need me, I’ll be working on my freelance project. It’s a cure for the common cold, which involves a mixture of honey and arsenic. I’m thinking of applying for a patent because, y’know, I can do it too!

Ahh, yes, that’s the name we chose for ourselves and look! So fitting.

I don’t even really know where to start: it’s been a heck of a time, frankly. The beginning, probably a good place.

Mark came in, ear infection and head cold, and met me outside Union Square. We happened to be there the same time as Cat-Hat-Man, which was epic to say the least. He looked frazzled, that special way people do when they get sick the first day of vacation. We ate mac and cheese and meandered back to Brooklyn.

And then, the Jew Party! Purim, or something like that, and there was an RV filled with Hasids driving around my block, blaring rock music with Yiddish lyrics. You can’t make this stuff up. We crept out onto the stoop and stood, pretending to smoke our cigarettes, but sneaking peeks into the buildings when the doors would open up and the people would spill out. Celebration!

Mark and I got bagels, which he found to be amazingly delicious, and then he had to get back to Times Square to meet his travelling partner.

And then Travis showed up that evening, and there was MoMa, vegan soul food, Margaritavillefest ‘09.

And, as always, back to Pittsburgh; a six-hour drive through winding hills and damn I just wanted to be home.

I kicked my feet up, relaxedddd and essentially did nothing for a week. I did catch glimpses of the Sonic and Five Guys being constructed in Greensburg; so exciting! Good food, so close now!

And then, back to Brooklyn and a ludicrously busy week: confirmations, news searches, complicated trips by train and then! The Vagina Monologues. Not quite as exciting as last year, but we pulled it off, raised $115 for charity, which I’m considering an accomplishment.

And now: veging time. My stress level back to normal [somewhere between a 4 or 5 on a daily basis, on a scale from one to ten] and I’m done.

This took far too long to get posted, and for that, I apologize. I am not good with promptness.

Here’s a smattering of quotes that illustrate why I sometimes want to curl up into a ball at work.

Jaiden: [pokes my belly] Miss Katie, your belly is soft. And big!

Kyla: [takes my hand, examines it closely] I like your nail color! But they are all messed up.

and, today:

Yvette: [touches her finger to my chin] Miss Katie, you have lots of bumps on your chin. [I sigh.] They’re all over your face, too!

The babies [kindergarteners; try spending any time with them and not want to call them your babies] have been so adorable recently. Caleb tapped me on the shoulder during quiet time and declared that “Taerica says she’s a hundred years old!”

“No she’s not,” Paul said. “People can’t be a hundred! Sea turtles can, though. Sea turtles can be a hundred.”

“People can be a hundred,” I said. “Not a lot of them, but some.”

“But then they’re about to die,” Paul said. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Today is Dr. Suess’ birthday and also marks the first time in five years that the NYC school system declared a snow day. This is disappointing: the kindergarteners were going to celebrate Dr. Seuss’ birthday today, and I was going to collect all the books of his I could find from the America Reads office. I will, of course, take them on Thursday, but it’s still a bit of a disappointment to not get to spend the week with the books and the kids.

I love Dr. Seuss. The Lorax is probably one of the best children’s books that contains a moral. My senior year, Dave Majewski, the only teacher I’d had every single semester of my high school career, sat down the kids about to graduate and read us “All the Places You’ll Go,” his own way of telling us all goodbye. I teared up quite a bit, because I was going places, farther away than the rest of my classmates. Oh, the places I went.

And speaking of places, my new favorite place is in my apartment, with pizza and friends. We’ve all been having a hard time recently: our personalities seem to be leeching off of that of some of our friends, and we all feel discombobulated. This is what college is all about, though: records on the player, flipping through fashion magazines, spending too much on cute underwear. Nights spent feeling like things will never be back to normal, whatever normal is.

And it’s not just here: my friends back home have been dealt blows, disease, divorce. This is where the distance is difficult; I want to offer hugs and laying in bed together, eating ice cream and watching 90’s sitcoms. I do have some comrades planning to visit: Mark is going to come for a day, stay on my couch, go to the diner, meet my here-family. Travis is coming for a few days, and he’s going to take me back to Pittsburgh. There will be readings and exploration: a slice of my life.

I am glad I do not have class today. Given, I am still keeping somewhat busy, with some reading and assignments I need to do, and a trip to Park Slope with April. But there’s something nice about not having to peel yourself away from your comforter until noon. Sleep in.

Happy birthday, Dr. Seuss.

I don’t have anything new to post today, so here’s a picture of a guy in Union Square with a cat sitting on his head.

I love New York.

This might be the best valentine ever.

Nothing has really happened recently. I decided online dating was a bust and got a haircut. A 20-dollar haircut, at that!

A $20 haircut in nyc is, for the record, unheard of. We’re talking the cheapest cuts at the sketchy salons will runyou at least $40. But at the Aveda Institute, the students do cuts for $20, since they need like 100 hours of haircutting. So the cut took like an hour and a half, but was totally worth it. Clearly.

And, now, for your viewing pleasure, have this year-old SNL sketch wherein Andy Samberg professes his love for Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. There is, obviously, nothing more worthy.

So, I’ve been asked to write for the Norwin Star, a little paper that serves my local area at home. My first real gig! I approve. I’m going to be writing about New York versus small-town-Pittsburgh, connections I am constantly making, and the things I love about the area.

And, the cutest thing I’ve seen all day: http://niemann.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/02/i-lego-ny/

A man, now living in Berlin, sees New York in his children’s Legos.

Well, my team did it. The Steelers are now the most Super Bowl-winningest team in the NFL. And Bruce! Bruce with his slide into the camera and the fact that he’s still so cute after all these years. That 100-yard interception, I was hooting and hollering all the way through. Troy Polamalu’s hair now covers part of his numbers: that’s my team.

And then, I got word: the man who sells vegetable peelers in Union Square passed away. I remember the first time I ever visited Union Square with my family, noticing the man and thinking “I wonder what he’s all about?” He sold these peelers every day, at the upper left-hand corner of the square, right outside the farmer’s market.

Turns out he had an apartment on Park Avenue and sent his daughter to an Ivy League school. The New York Times, curious as I, wrote an article about him a few months ago. How he managed to wear that khaki suit every day, sitting on a small bench on the sidewalk with his demo vegetables. Peelers, every day, and wealth. And now, no longer. I had always meant to buy one.

And then: my cousin Jen is officially engaged. How exciting engagements are! All the planning. Allegedly, (or, rather, last time I heard) they’re planning on Mexico, a destination wedding. Love and beaches. I will be there.