Thursday, September 30
Wednesday, September 29
Tuesday, September 28
Monday, September 27
Saturday, September 25
Friday, September 24
Thursday, September 23
Wednesday, September 22
Tuesday, September 21
Monday, September 20
Friday, September 17
Thursday, September 16
Wednesday, September 15
Tuesday, September 14
Sunday, September 12
Saturday, September 11
Friday, September 10
Thursday, September 9
Wednesday, September 8
Tuesday, September 7
Monday, September 6
Friday, September 3
Thursday, September 2
Wednesday, September 1
Ordinary things, in an ordinary way
Undertaking this project has been both more time-consuming and more revealing than I anticipated. These photographs truly give you a picture of my life -- both my physical and mental states. Perhaps you'll learn more about me than I intended when I suggested this.
You asked to see everything, from my toothbrush to a representation of my favorite smell. You won't be happy until my every last secret is revealed, will you? Well, let's start at the very beginning. Where do I write all this drivel? It started at the work station, and continues to the home setup. I see this gorgeous tree on my way to the parking garage; fall is hands-down my favorite season. When I get home, I walk past my garden (not that I have anything to do with how this garden grows -- the only thing I cultivate is a couple of philodendron plants). Once I make it through the door, I toss a little something black down near my pillow. I drop the keys on the bedside table, and look for something to read. Or something else to read. Or maybe one of my favorite CDs to listen to. Or my favorite DVDs to watch. Maybe I should slip into something a little more comfortable. Wait, are my boys playing tonight? Regardless, I'm hungry. What's in the cupboard? Ugh. Fridge? Nope. Freezer? Ice cream. Excellent idea. I'm taking my goodies and heading off to sit in front of my most and least favorite things, and for now, I'm ignoring the dust bunnies under the couch. Maybe the dog will keep me company. After the sweets, it's time for some tooth care in the bathroom. Why does brushing your teeth remind you of your childhood? Well, that and many other things.
This brings us the end of our little journey through Jen's life. As thanks for leading the trip for me, I give you this parting gift. On the house. There are a few requests that I haven't been able to fill yet, but it's in the works, people. All in good time.
Update: Gentlemen, what are the four pillars? (Okay, there's only three in the picture, though there are actually five in total at this location. Bonus points to anyone who can tell me what these pillars are and where they are located.)
posted @ 6:36 PM |
Tease
I started my project this afternoon, and I liked this one so much, I decided to share it early. (If you click on the image, you can see a full-size version. It's worth it.)
It's not really "peak foliage" time in New England just yet, so the opportunities for leaf-shooting are few and far between. I did get a shot of one lone red tree amidst all the green, but it's not great. Other photos will follow soon.
posted @ 10:21 AM |
Let's try it, shall we?
Because I liked how it turned out at Swirlspice and My So-Called Blog, I'm perpetuating this particular meme. Also, I want an excuse to use my digital camera. It'll be fun, eh?
Here's the deal: "Think of 3 pictures you'd like to see. Leave whatever you'd like to see in the comments. Things around my house, or whatever ... something I can take a picture of easily. Once I have enough requests, I'll start posting them. If I can't, or won't, take a picture of something you've requested, I'll let you know."
(And if you think this is just another excuse to take a picture of my feet, you're right.)
posted @ 12:08 PM |
Off at a gallop
I've discovered recently (well, yesterday) that I open doors with my left hand, which I think is weird because I'm right-handed. I made this discovery due to some bizarre turn of events that tweaked my left wrist to the extent that grabbing the doorknob is painful. Typing is not such a good time, either, but nothing keeps me from blogging.
My broken wrist and I are now conducting a poll: Which hand do you use to open the door? And is that the same or different from the hand you use to write?
posted @ 10:07 AM |
Where's a talking insect when you need one?
This morning, Leigh gave me the best thank-you gift, the Ultimate Dirty Dancing soundtrack. Yes, that's right, all 26 songs from the film in the order they appeared. Will "These Arms of Mine" be on constant repeat? Hell, yes.
It was a truly thoughtful present, but now I am plagued with guilt. Because what I did to earn the thank-you was done in a manner truly unbecoming an officer. I watched the Midgie last week whilst Leigh was at various classes and then again whilst Leigh fought off hideous malaise. When I went to return the puppy to her rightful owner, I got lost on the way there. I hate Newton. For some reason, I'm never able to make it out of that area alive. Stick me in the middle of Boston? Fine. Stick me in the middle of Newton-I-have-20-villages? Utter chaos. By the time I arrived at Leigh's lovely home in Watertown, I was less than pleased. My car was overheating, I was frustrated, and I really wanted to kill someone. I unceremoniously dumped the dog on sick Leigh and took off. Poor Leigh was in no way at fault here, obviously. I love watching Ada. She's the cutest, most wee dog around.
I suspect my friends are used to it by now, but my temper gets the best of me far too easily and I show flashes of irritation more readily than I should. But I don't really want my friends to get used to my faults; I'd prefer to just not have any.
posted @ 7:25 AM |
Life in the big city
Currently, I'm fighting off a wave of irritation and irrational aggression. Apparently, there is a child's party going on nearby. Either that, or a bunch of men with really high-pitched voices are hitting something with a bat over and over and then squealing with glee. Either way, I want them to die.
Apparently, I'm not truly homicidal yet because some jackass in a yes-I-live-in-the-city-but-no-I-really-do-need-an-enormous-pickup-truck honked at me because I had the right of way and I used it. I didn't even flip him off. Maybe I'm getting sick. Maybe he's just lucky that the Stop 'n' Shop bought all new grocery carts, giving me a lift that raised my mood to just slightly below the completely insane mark.
posted @ 2:29 PM |
Analogy
Writing, for me, is like baseball. Every time I face the blank page, it's like stepping up to the plate. I want so desperately to hit a home run, I strike out instead. Every sentence can't be a dinger. Sometimes, it's got to be enough just to get on base.
posted @ 11:52 AM |
A face for radio
Last night, I enjoyed the game live at Fenway, which explains why I have my radio voice today. I'm just slightly hoarse from all the screaming. (Other side effects of fandom: Last night, after all the intense clapping and subsequent high-fiving, I couldn't feel my hands.) Cabrera lead off the bottom of the 12th inning with a walkoff home run, and the crowd went wild. I had such a good time, I can't even begin to tell you. From the chick in front of us with extremely poorly dyed hair ("I didn't know we came to see Roots," Jamie said) to the guy next to us giving his best "I really wish I were a radio announcer" play-by-play on his cell phone to our free seat upgrades behind home plate in the 10th inning, it was nothing but joy. I am forever indebted to my friend Katie for inviting me.
I am also soundly indebted to Jeff for loaning me a copy of Lost, which I forgot to tape last night whilst I was away enjoying the Sox beat the Orioles. Anyone tape CSI: NY for me?
posted @ 11:46 AM |
Now that you mention it
I am a bit lame.
Just let it go, Jen Garrett. Let it go.
posted @ 12:36 PM |
Ford fan of the game
And in the ninth inning she said: "Mark Bellhorn, I will have your babies. Anytime."
Yeah, I don't know why I added the "anytime" either.
posted @ 7:43 PM |
Too much yet not enough
Normally, I listen to a CD while I drive to work. This morning, I listened to Howard Stern because I couldn't help myself. I want to make this perfectly clear: It wasn't my fault. The first thing I heard when I started my car was Howard asking some woman what she would do with her boyfriend before they got married, as she didn't believe in sex before marriage (this is how people end up married at 18). How could I turn that off? It's dirty and funny at the same time, in the way that only Howard can be. So I keep listening, and it turns out the woman in question is Erica Durance, soon to be Lois Lane on Smallville. It's a little freaky knowing what Lois Lane did sexually, what was and wasn't okay, and what did and did not count as "sex." It also gave me one of those great "huh?" moments -- you know, when you really just can't comprehend why anyone would do such a thing. Not that I'm not saving myself for marriage, too, but I just don't understand why all of these activities are okay, but this one in particular is not. I'm baffled. As usual.
posted @ 8:37 AM |
It was like being in the country, but with more heavy lifting
I took a mini-break from the internet yesterday, and I didn't even realize it until I was about to go to bed. I know it strains credulity, but I didn't read my e-mail, cruise my favorite blogs, or check a sports score online all day. It didn't even occur to me to turn my computer on. I'm still sort of stunned by this. I'm going to blame the whole debacle on early rising (fuck the worm). I had to get up at 9 a.m.! on a Sunday! to move around some heavy shit. After that, neither my brain nor my muscles could recover. In fact, I'm still not up to full blogging strength. I can't come up with anything trivial and entertaining for y'all today. Check back tomorrow.
posted @ 11:17 AM |
Oh, what a night
Holy shit, Batman. The Sox eke out two runs in the ninth to beat the Yankees. And then the Mystics beat Phoenix -- ensuring both the Mystics and the Lynx a playoff spot. The Lynx then clinch the deal by beating L.A. At home. Oh, it was glorious. Lisa Leslie fouled out, which is almost as good as drilling A-Rod. And to top it all off, Jacobs was a perfect 3-3 from three-point range, including a stunner with 1 second left on the shot clock. It was just like the game against Villanova.
So much sporting happiness, I really don't know what to do with myself.
posted @ 9:59 PM |
Sign #837
That I have truly lost my mind:
Last night, while watching the Sox game, I decided that in order for my team to win, I needed to compose some sort of ode to Curt Schilling. For a moment, I could not come up with anything that rhymed with Schilling. And then, out of nowhere: "Schilling, Schilling, he's so thrilling!" I later came up with the less satisfying, but still amusing: "Kick 'em in the dirt, Curt!"
Now, what the fuck rhymes with Arroyo?
posted @ 6:46 AM |
Pardon me while I flutter my lashes and take advantage of looking like I'm 12
I couldn't believe it when it happened, but I was pulled over this morning after leaving my dentist's office. I never get pulled over, because, truly, I'm a good driver. I obey the rules of the road (for the most part) and only speed when necessary (all the time). She pulled me over for running a yellow light. Now, truth be told, I didn't run it on purpose. It's a fast light, and I wasn't paying enough attention, and by the time I realized it was yellow, I felt like it was too late to slam on my brakes. It wasn't red until I wasn't almost through. So it was fine. She didn't think so and gave me one of those cop scoldings that make you feel about 5 years old. She must have been taken by my true contrition and my youthful appearance, because she just gave me a warning. And a reminder that the ticket is $150.
posted @ 10:04 AM |
Sore loser
I don't know the exact moment I become a lunatic sports fan, but I have clearly slipped over the edge of reason. My moods rise and fall with my team's win-loss record. I've developed weird superstitions about what I need to do to help my team (there may or may not be lucky underwear involved). I have a complex system of rooting for teams I dislike, depending on how much their losing (or winning) affects my team's chances in the play-offs. I actively rooted for the Sparks to beat the Mercury the other night because I didn't like how close the Merc were edging to the Lynx in the tight playoff race. I hate the Sparks. It's almost like I rooted for UConn (never gonna happen). I do draw the line at rooting for the Yankees; I'm so full of antipathy towards that team I wouldn't root for them to win if they were playing Satan and his minions. (Wait. Aren't the Yankees Satan's minions already?) The phrase "you win some, you lose some" does not go over well with me. I want to win them all. Even in baseball, where they play something like 800,000 games in a season.
Luckily, my boys won tonight. I'm almost eager for the end of the season, so my life can return to normal for a few brief, shining months before college basketball gets into full swing. I'm looking forward to being obsessed with other things, like TV or blogging or maybe, god forbid, my own life.
posted @ 7:46 PM |
Phenomenal cosmic power
Itty bitty booth. I love voting.
posted @ 4:45 PM |
Hoodwinked
I've been contemplating a lie all morning. Not a big lie, nothing that would hurt anyone, just an artful bending of the truth. It wouldn't be the first time I've lied, though I think I'm an honest person in general. What's stopping me is why I want to lie. I wouldn't gain anything from it, other than a perverse sense of satisfaction and a neatness to the general order of things. (I do like things to be tidy.) In the end, though, it seems stupid and far too trivial to waste my dishonesty on. I need to save up my lies for when I truly need them.
And I don't know why I'm getting all philosophical all of a sudden, but it occurs to me that I'm a firm believer in lies -- that is, there is place for them in everyone's life, a necessary place. I interviewed a writer last month, and she talked about the importance of honesty in your writing. And as a reader, I know that's true. I tried to apply that to real life, however, and things came out a bit differently than I expected. She seemed honest and true in real life, too, and I wondered why I wasn't more that way, why all of us aren't more honest -- and I don't mean we're all liars, just that we cover so much of our selves, we use so much subterfuge to hide who we are, what we really think. Maybe it is a lie, this public self. Maybe it's just an alternate version of the truth. Maybe that's okay. Maybe that's necessary.
posted @ 7:11 AM |
Forever young
I was going to write something about our youth-obsessed culture, etc., because I watched both My So-Called Life and The Girl Next Door this weekend. (Disturbing realization #1: I am Brian Krakow. #2. I actually enjoyed The Girl Next Door.) It worries me that I can't seem to get past adolescence, or at least my obsession with it. I'm going to be 29 soon (much too young to feel this damn old), and I wish it didn't make me upset. I don't want to be that girl -- you know, the one who desperately strives to maintain her youth and/or desperately seeks to partner herself off before 30. I'm actually pretty confident that I won't be that girl outwardly, but it disturbs me that I may be her on the inside. Are these things that I truly want or have I just been conditioned to want them? I'm fairly certain my burning desire to own more Crate & Barrel furniture is spurred by advertising, but I'm not so sure about the rest.
posted @ 7:34 PM |
Nobody told me there'd be days like these
I had to wake up at 6 a.m. to head off to work Wellesley's A Day to Make a Difference. I have to tell you honestly, I wasn't so much into the difference-making at the crack of dawn. Nonetheless, I helped usher all our volunteers out into the world and then promptly returned home to take a nap. I set my alarm for 2 p.m., which just may be the strangest wake-up time of my young life. I would have just slept indefinitely, but I was supposed to get up to take my friend to Best Buy to purchase a TV set. Once I dragged myself out of bed (for the second time today), she called and canceled. Was I tempted to return immediately to bed? Hell, yes. But I had lunch instead and surfed the internet. At which point I remembered that today is Sept. 11. And now I'm glad that my sister woke me up with a phone call from the grocery store. And I'm glad that I hugged Leigh this morning. And I'm glad that I remembered all these things and more.
posted @ 12:03 PM |
Guilty
I like TV. There, I've admitted it publicly. In fact, I watched Joey last night, and I liked that, too. In honor of my feelings and Patricia's similar affliction, here's a little something special. Just so y'all know what I'll be up to in the coming months. (Yes, those pencil marks are my own, and they indicate date of premiere because the TV Guide wasn't kind enough to include everything I wanted.)
posted @ 10:28 AM |
When all else fails, blog
I can't sleep, due in large part to far too much Mountain Dew and far too much sports viewing. Washington won tonight, which is just amazing. My boys beat the Colts, and I don't know why, but I love beating Indy. Maybe it's because I hate Peyton Manning. Yeah, I think that's it. I just want to smack him every time I see him. But I'll take McGinest sacking him at the end of the game instead. Tragically, the Sox lost, but they had no chance tonight. F-ing SI goes and ruins our winning streak every time.
The point of all this is, of course, that I have no point. I spent the better part of my afternoon talking about blogging, and that usually makes me want to blog. But not today. I feel like I have September malaise, and I really, really need to snap out of it.
posted @ 10:40 PM |
I'm not sure how, but I'm sure I had something to do with this
My little sister got her first teaching job today. I'm so proud of her. I remember when she was this annoying little kid with perennially bad hair. And now she'll be shaping the youth of America. What more could a big sister ask for?
posted @ 12:46 PM |
The sporting life for me
If NASCAR is a sport, I've decided that my morning commute is a competitive event. You shouldn't be able to win the big prize without taking a few laps around Boston. The outrageous speeds are just like the track, and no one has any idea of what space means. I always get stuck behind the pace car.
I'm serious, people. I want some guy standing at the end of my driveway with a green flag to wave me off in the morning. I want another guy with a stop watch waiting when I pull into the parking garage in the morning. I want him to tell me how much I am off the leader and if I've shaved any time off of my personal best. I want other cars to be forced to pit when they clearly need some work. I want a big shiny cup and lots of prize money and hot chicks when I beat everyone else to work. Is that so much to ask?
posted @ 11:26 AM |
Sorry, Charlie
My sister named her new kitten Charlie. He's a little frisky and charged me while I attempted to take his picture.
Attempting to capture him on film (well, digital memory card) was quite a difficult task. Boy really wouldn't sit still. And he loves playing with my sister's enormous German Shepherd (who weighs somewhere in the vicinity of 120 pounds). Those are Hogan's black legs and Charlie is the whitish blur.
posted @ 10:42 AM |
You're stupid. I always knew you were stupid.
Hi, I'm looking for that song about the guy who killed himself for the girl who hated his guts?
I want to live inside that movie. But the question is: Do I want to be Keith so I can kiss Watts, or do I want to be Watts so I can kiss Keith? These are the questions that try my soul, people.
posted @ 9:43 PM |
I've got nothing to do today but smile
Nothing to do but smile.
posted @ 8:34 PM |
Short and sweet
The Brutal Language of Love changed my mind about short stories. Normally, I'm not a short story girl -- I always feel like I'm left wanting. If the writing is good, I want it to last forever. Well, Erian's writing is good -- very good -- and I wanted it to last forever, yet I was satisfied at the end of each story. Her writing is sharp, witty, honest, and sexy. Her economy of words is inspiring. I've already said I want to be her when I grow up, but I'm willing to say it again. She's inspired me to stay on the short-story track: Now I'm reading Mary Gaitskill's Bad Behavior.
posted @ 11:44 AM |
Fantastic voyage
Earlier this summer, I joked about wanting to take a trip to see all 13 WNBA teams play on their home court. Okay, I wasn't really joking, but I knew it was never going to happen. Not enough vacation time and definitely not enough money. (Though wouldn't I have been a cool marketing tool for the WNBA? Maybe they should sponsor me, and I'll do it next year.) Well, this guy is living the dream: He's seeing games in 30 major league baseball parks. Oh, yeah, and he's biking his way to raise money for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, one of my favorite charities. And to top it all off, he's a Sox fan and ends his sojourn at a Sox/Yankees game.
Thanks to Dave for the link.
posted @ 7:44 AM |
