Zack to the Future

Hey, did you all know that today is the anniversary of Sliced Bread?

The first sliced bread was sold under the trade name "Kleen Maid Sliced Bread" by the Chillicothe Baking Company of Chillicothe, Missouri (pronounced "CHILL-uh-kaw-thee" with a voiceless "th", year 2000 population: 8,968), on this day 81 years ago. At the time the advance was hailed in an advertisement as (not kidding) the best thing since wrapped bread.¹

I wonder how long wrapped bread held the title of the greatest thing, and what the greatest thing before that was. Please feel free to leave comments as to what that might have been, or ought to have been.

Also I am reading (and enjoying) Bill Bryson's witty and adventurous book A Walk In The Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail which in turn is making me daydream about someday hiking the NCMST, which has kind of been a dream of mine since I learned that it existed. Maybe someday....

My life is becoming increasingly bibliocentric, which makes me really happy.

• I'm working at GWU's Health Sciences library, and find myself looking at the most incredible books. Can you believe I shelved a copy of something called Space Physiology today? It's about, you guessed it: how the body reacts to being in Space.
  
• I'm using GWU's Gelman (non-Health Sciences) library and reading voraciously, reading as if my very life depended on it, as if I had been submerged for too long and these books were the life-giving air that I take in great gasps as I come to the surface.
  
• I'm writing reviews of everything I read on Goodreads, which is my preferred form of net-based social interactivity these days.

And, since a few of you aren't signed up with Goodreads yet, here it is, what you may or may not have been waiting for:
( = = = W I N T E R / S P R I N G / S U M M E R 2 0 0 9 B O O K L I S T = = = )

So if you were to take my livejournal and take my paper diaries and arrange all the entries chronologically into place along a timeline, you'd notice that at times when I'm writing a lot in my paper diary, my livejournal goes into hibernation, and vice versa. I'm always writing things down, but the format changes, depending on any number of factors (access to internet, mood, season, etc).

So take heart. I'm doing well, even if you're not reading about it all that much.

Today is a day to take pride in my accomplishments. At work, S. (the young woman who is giving my training at the circulation desk) let me handle the patron questions and do most of the work, and I think I managed alright. Then I went grocery shopping, came home, cleaned the kitchen, wrote two letters, then made dinner: two kinds of enchiladas (mashed sweet potato and homemade refried bean) with homemade enchilada sauce, garnished with sliced manzanilla olives and arroz verde on the side (slightly-fried rice cooked with purée of green pepper, parsley, onion, jalapeño and garlic). New Recipes from Moosewood Restaurant for the win!

I suppose if I really wanted to take pride in what I've done today I'd add "cleaned my room" to my list of accomplishments, but at times it is better to reflect on what you've done thus far before going forward with other projects.

This afternoon I trekked out to lovely suburban NOVA to visit thegreatape and kitsunedo, and (always one to mix business with pleasure - no, not really) to pick up my long-lost bicycle, which I had no idea how much I missed until I got on it and rode to the bus stop in the town center. It was beautiful weather, the stars were out, and I was getting some exercise that didn't involve jogging down an escalator to catch a train. Also, since I was coming from work at G.W., I was wearing a sport coat and sweater with collar poking out from the neck. Also, since I was gathering things that I had left at aforementioned friends' house, I had the handle part of a bicycle pump sticking out of my messenger bag like the business end of a dynamite plunger, as well as a cable lock wrapped around my shoulder like a bandolier and an olive-drab helmet that looks a little like a prop from Full Metal Jacket. I think my overall appearance gave the impression of a 1920's alpinist on his way to blow up a bridge behind enemy lines or something.

Regardless. I got on the front car of the train and leaned up against the rail by the door, my bike slowly rolling back and forth along the width of the car. Behind me were three early-college-age youths, discussing loudly their excitement for the upcoming Flaming Lips Earth Day concert on the National Mall (free). At one point I thought I heard one of them say "N.C. State," so I waited patiently for a pause in their conversation and then leaned over and asked,

"Excuse me for eavesdropping, but are y'all from North Carolina?"

Turns out one of them was. She had grown up in Durham. We were comparing notes on the Triangle, and I told her I was from Hillsborough. Oh wow, she replied, my mom works at an elementary school there. Which one? I asked. Central, she said. Of course, this was the elementary school that I graduated from. I asked her where she went to school, and she said Durham Academy.

"So did you ever have a teacher named S_______?" I asked. Her face lit up.
"That was my drama teacher in middle school!" she practically shouted.
"No way!" I responded. "I did extracurricular plays with her through the Arts Council!"

We talked a little while longer about the Triangle and about D.C. life and the Inauguration and other things, and then their little group got off at Metro Center but I stayed on; riding all the way to my stop, then taking the elevator (which only smelled a little like urine) up to the street, then pedaling my way up 7th street to my new home here, skimming along between the canyon walls of parked cars, fresh breeze in my face and coat tails flapping out behind my dynamite plunger and bandolier.

In the Post today there was an article about Michelle Obama's increasing popularity and her burgeoning status as an "iconic" figure. A co-worker pointed out this tidbit, a few paragraphs in:

Listen to Maxine Furlong, a Republican from Western New York who initially was not a fan.

"Eventually, she will be a great first lady," said Furlong, who's 34 and white. "She definitely has this black woman's attitude....White girls have more insecurities, which is why they care more about being ingratiating. I'm not saying this is a bad thing - I like that about her - but she's just a very strong woman and that can come off as condescending."

We all just kind of stood around with our mouths open for a minute.

Prediction for tomorrow's Letters to the Editor page:

Dear Maxine Furlong,

So sorry that I am black. I'll try harder next time.

Yours sincerely,
-- Michelle

I'm not really sure what to write here these days. I'm not sure if what's going on in my life is interesting. Also, I notice that my livejournaling and my paper-diary-keeping tend to exhibit a complementary nature: that is, there's a set amount of journal writing that I do in a month, and some times I favor one form to the neglect of the other.

Perhaps it's because I'm uncertain of how interesting my day-to-day activities are that I'm writing mostly for my own consumption, mostly on paper. For instance, this woman practically threw a fit the other day because we don't serve iced espresso at the coffee shop. She apparently has worked in coffee shops for "most of her life" and thought we were being ridiculous not to serve her her drink. She also tried asking for it sideways, sort of like Jack Nicholson in Five Easy Pieces by ordering a "medium iced Americano, without the water." Incidentally, I've never actually seen the film Five Easy Pieces; but as I've been primarily employed by the food service industry for the past seven years, I'm familiar with the famous breakfast scene. (For those of you who haven't seen the film, here's a brief synopsis of the relevant portion of the film via Wikipedia. According to the latest edit, "[t]he scene is iconic is a metaphor for the rebellious, free spirit of the youth of the late 1960s and early 1970s." If that's the case, I say phooey on the rebellious free spirit of the youth of the late 1960s and early 1970s. In my experience, the only thing this movie is a metaphor for is feeling entitled to be rude to staff at restaurants when you don't get whatever the hell fool thing you want.)

In other news, I'm 25 years old. That's kind of funny, right?

Call me old-fashioned, but I'm really looking forward to the start of baseball season. Especially now that I live in a place that has a major league team.

Okay, so I just happened across this on somebody's Facebook page, but it sounded like fun, and, two hours later, I'm finished.

Make Your Own Bogus CD Cover

1. Select a random article from Wikipedia. The article's title will be the name of your band.
   
2. Open a page of random quotations, scroll down to the last quote, and copy down the last four or five words. This will be the title of the album.
   
3. View the most recent activity on Flickr and copy the third image. This image will form the basis of your album art.
   
4. Use Photoshop (or, in my case, the Gimp) to mash the three things up into an album cover.

Simple enough, right? It's also kind of addicting.( I Made Two )

Today at work the gauntlet was thrown. In honour of the Holiday which is now upon us (and I mean Valentine's day, not President's day, although that's almost upon us as well), I have been challenged to produce two playlists, both roughly an hour in length, neither playlist repeating an artist, with the following themes: Pro-Valentine's Day and Anti-Valentine's Day. I humbly submit the best I can come up with using only what's currently on my iPod:

HOORAY VALENTINE'S DAY!!

• Adnan Sami Khan - "Dil Kya Kare (theme from 'Salaam-e-Ishq')"
  
• T Rex - "Bang A Gong (Get It On)"
  
• Billy Bragg - "The Milkman Of Human Kindness"
  
• Beatles - "Got To Get You Into My Life"
  
• Devo - "Ton O Luv"
  
• Pretenders - "Brass In Pocket"
  
• Clash - "1-2 Crush On You"
  
• Tom Tom Club - "Genius Of Love"
  
• Wilco - "I'm The Man Who Loves You"
  
• Patti Smith - "Because The Night"
  
• Hot Chocolate - "You Sexy Thing"
  
• They Might Be Giants - "She's An Angel"
  
• Pixies - "La La Love You"
  
• Dexy's Midnight Runners - "Jackie Wilson Said (I'm In Heaven When You Smile)"
  
• Talking Heads - "Uh Oh, Love Comes To Town"
  
• Ramones - "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend"
  
• Cure - "Friday, I'm In Love"

BOO VALENTINE'S DAY!!

• Minor Threat - "Sob Story"
  
• R.E.M. - "Everybody Hurts"
  
• Rilo Kiley - "Breakin' Up"
  
• ABBA - "Winner Takes It All"
  
• Postal Service - "Nothing Better"
  
• Cars - "My Best Friend's Girl"
  
• Squeeze - "Up The Junction"
  
• Joy Division - "Love Will Tear Us Apart"
  
• Paul Simon - "Crazy Love, Part II"
  
• Police - "Can't Stand Losing You"
  
• Peter Bjorn & John - "Let's Call It Off (Girl Talk Remix)"
  
• They Might Be Giants - "They'll Need A Crane"
  
• Operation Ivy - "One Of These Days"
  
• Specials - "Too Much Too Young"
  
• Lynyrd Skynyrd - "Tuesday's Gone"

Today boasted fine weather here in Northern Virginia, and I took advantage of the conditions by riding my bike from Reston out to Loudoun County. It was uphill a lot of the way, and the wind was blowing in my face, but I finally got out to where there weren't buildings anymore, just fields and trees and power lines, my ever-present company along the W&OD Trail. It was lovely.

After a time I got tired. I veered off the path, leaned my bicycle against the concrete piling of a high-tension tower and stared into woods on the horizon. The sun was preparing to set, but it was still as lovely and warm a February day as you'd ever want to have in Virginia.

Last Autumn a friend of mine told me that she didn't have any time for uninspired books. "There is a finite number of books I can read in my lifetime," she said. "I don't want to use up my time reading something stupid."

I've been turning that over and over in my head for a while. Today it all seemed to come together in a rush as I was standing there, bike at my side, while behind me spandex-ed racers flitted past on their time trials.

I'm only going to live to see so many more lovely days like this in February, I thought. What followed was a series of mental calculations of how many more Februaries I am likely to see, and from there to how many more Summers I was going to live through and how many more growing seasons and how many more weekends. How many years of work, how many more times I can be expected to change careers, how many years before I'm a father, before I have a house of my own somewhere, before I start settling down and planting a garden.

You mustn't think I was being glum; no, my dear friends. I was quite content to be where I was, watching the sun and the trees. I was taking everything in, and thinking all the while, "this isn't going to last. Nothing does." It made me all the more happy to be there where I was, on such a lovely day, somewhere out in Loudoun County away from all the buildings.

I've heard it said a hundred times, a thousand times before now, and I always thought: yes, that's true; yes, that's how it goes; yes, that's good to remember. But today I really, really felt it, and I hope I can carry this feeling with me for a while, and let it serve as a reminder: that every day, every moment, is of vital importance, and you must make the best of every day you're alive.

Went to the Giant Supermarket this morning (it's the name of the store, not a description of it). Along the back wall they have an in-store pharmacy which is apparently having a promotional sale: there's a huge sign hanging from the ceiling that says "FREE ANTIBIOTICS!" That alone would be a little weird, but what really makes it is the fact that the pharmacy section is right next to the pre-packaged meat department, so it looks like they're advertising the quality of their meat.

By the by, first batch of letters has gone out. If you haven't got yours yet and you asked me to send you one, wait another day. If you haven't got yours yet because you didn't respond to the last post, don't worry. You can respond to this one instead.

Dear Friends,

I don't know if you've heard already, but the Postmaster General is seeking to reduce delivery to five days a week. Yesterday on the Metro (by the way I moved to the D.C.-Metro area early this month) I read in the Express (that's the mini-Washington Post that they hand out at all the Metro stations in the morning) that a poll of Washingtonians revealed 69% of folks would NOT be bothered by such a change, while only 31% would.

Speaking as one of the 31% who would be bothered, I can also see the writing on the wall. The USPS is hurting for money because nobody is using it anymore. Since complaining about it won't get me anywhere, I suppose the only way to effect positive change in this situation is to use the Postal Service more.

SO.

This is an open call for getting letters from me. Post a comment with your mailing address and I will write you, or if I already have your address, just leave a message saying you want to hear from me. I have turned on comment screening, so your address will not be posted to the entire world.

Epistolography...GO!!

The rules of the game were: take one scientific thing and one religious thing and draw a picture combining them. First picture: Space Angel. Second picture: Electron-Microscopy Babylon. Third picture: DNA Bodhisattva. After reworking, it becomes this:

Now, as promised:

( SKINTIN IN BRIXTON )

Side Note: the reader should remember that SMOKING KILLS. And drinking too much isn't so great either.

It's too cold for going outside, so instead I laid on the floor and drew. Here you go.







Rude Boys! Rude Girls! Don't miss Skintin in his very first adventure, SKINTIN IN BRIXTON, coming soon to your favourite shop.

(By the way, Skintin ain't no bloody racist. See him skankin' with pride? See the Trojan logo on his shirt? He's a SHARP, mate, believe you me. Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!)

(Also, S.P.G. stands for Special Patrol Group.)

Night. Blue stratus clouds
form frozen rolling beach waves
above bare branches.

In other words, it's cold out here, folks. Perfect day to sit on the couch and read something, or do laundry, or clean up your room a little. Or all of the above.

I just went out on a turn around the block in the cold. It occurs to me that some folks go out walking so they can have time to think about things away from everyone else. I think I go out walking so I can have time NOT to think about things. If there's a problem that plagues my mind, I go outside and ignore it for a while, and stare at the sky and the ground and the trees for a while. Then, when I get back inside, I can usually look at the problem afresh, pick one solution and run with it. It's kind of like when a lock is getting stuck. You twist and turn and push and pull and nothing will turn that knob. Then you walk away for a couple minutes, approach the problem again after a pause and it opens instantly.

Not that I'm up to my ears in problems or anything. Actually, it felt like the only way to recover from the overdose of kugel.

Things I feel I've gotten better at in the past week:

• finding my way around The City
  
• standing up on the metro while in motion

(Not a long list, but that just means there's room for improvement.)

The past three days were filled with:

• coffee
  
• walking
  
• vegan breakfast
  
• exploration
  
• waiting
  
• talking
  
• getting lost
  
• excitement
  

Now my feet are sore to an extraordinary degree and my eyelids are drooping, but it has been a successful adventure, I warrant. But there was no Joy Division.