Also

At the Andrew Bird concert the other night i was stopped by the guy at the door:

Open your purse.

Speechless.

Dude, it's my man-bag.

The worst thing that can ever be said about anyone

i'm currently reading through a book with a small group of people on emotionally healthy spirituality. In fact, that's what the book is called Emotionally Healthy Spirituality.

At one point the author discusses Joe DiMaggio. i dont know much about his life, but reading what the author had to say got me so sad:

Who knows what negative core beliefs Joe might have carried within himself. I doubt Joe DiMaggio himself knew. However, one thing is sure, his life was both a lie and a tragedy.

That's terrible. i'm still trying to figure out where it was on NPR that i heard about the importance of tragedy in art and how society needs it, but it's no fun seeing someone's life involve a real fall that they dont ever climb up from.

wedding conversation

(Me and two bridesmaids i didnt know)

Erin: I'm sick of all this theological talk.

Me: Let's tell corny jokes.

Rhonda: or lets just say stuff that relates to corn...

Me: i dont know about this.

Rhonda: Quit talking my ears off.

James: There is not one kernel of truth to what you're saying.

Rhonda: i was worried, for a second there i thought you were trying to butter me up.

James: Don't get salty with me.

Clam Juice!

Clam Juice!
Originally uploaded by jugglingnutcase.

So i keep watch on my flickr stats. Mostly because i wonder if anyone actually looks at them, so every once in a while i'll check to see what gets looked at and guess what others seem to think is worth looking at...

Well, apparently the other day it was my clam juice photo. it got a bunch of hits, and i have no idea why. i took this photo forever ago, and i'll be the first to admit that it's not all that special.

clam juice!

Tires

Today was quite an adventure!

i took my car in to get inspected and after dropping it off, took off in my bike to go to work. Halfway to work i blew out my rear tire. Fortunately, on Sunday i bought a spare because i knew if i started biking regularly to work i would need one. So i set to work on pulling out the old tube (to be patched later), putting in the new one, and pumping it up and midway through pumping up the new tube i split the valve right in half! i'm not sure if my little hand-pump couldnt handle my muscular physique or if i was just doing things wrong! Well, now that i'm back to doing software stuff, i have to think it was operator error.

Either way, i had to walk the remaining mile and a half - bike in tow - to work.

Pretty normal stuff right?

The other day i was listening to NPR on my way home and they had some sort of psychologist on talking about kids and lying. He said that lying shows that a child is being creative and isn't just a failure of upbringing, but he also said that a way to help instill morality in a child is to tell them (maybe right before they might want to lie) something to the effect of:

You know. It makes me really happy when you tell the truth.

And that was a pretty good thought for me to chew on. The reason to say this is because people pick up that good news is better than bad news and if you can get away with it, give out good news.

So the thought i came up with is, "Am i happier with reality than fantasy?"

And that especially gnawed at me when i was walking my bike down a busy street having my bike pedals clip the side of my leg.

And yes, i ended up having a great day! i had breakfast at the local diner and did the crossword. i biked home on a patched up spare that held perfectly. i got a new spare tire because the bike shop was nice enough to let me in 10 minutes after they closed, and i got to take pictures of two fawns hanging out in downtown Rochester. They let me get about 10 feet away from them!


So, am i choosing to be happier with reality?

On finding an emotional vocabulary

My friend texted me the other day saying that i left my diary at his house after visiting. i was certain i did not (and by the way it's a journal, thank you very much). Then he mentioned that he was joking and said my letter was super emotional.

Backstory: i went through a rough patch earlier in the year, since i was living back with my parents, unemployed due to leaving this great work community, and generally stuck in life. So my solution was to buy myself things! Music specifically, and so i started getting a cd a week to generate some of the hope that had been stolen away. Then i felt like i should share it and use it to connect with friends over. From there, i started sending out mix cds accompanied by a letter sharing what was going on in my life. And yes, due to my sensitive disposition, they have been somewhat thick emotionally.

That little interchange brought out some thoughts. i'm wondering if there's a mature and substantial emotional vocabulary between me and my friends. Do we know how to communicate this and is the language available for it? And, also, is there space for emotional discussions in general society? i'm not sure that emotional vulnerability is a value.

And yes, yes, i can point to my disposition as evidence that it's just me that thinks something is out of whack, but is it possible that this really is an issue?

Maybe it's time to normalize this. Look out for awkward questions...

My introduction to New Orleans

Someone asked me for a story the other day and i thought, "How fun!" so here's a story that i want to tell!

About 2 years ago i moved to New Orleans to do some relief work with a team for a year. As an introduction to the city my roommate took us to the Quarter to show us all the cool spots that you dont see unless you actually live there. We were obviously too cool to do touristy things there.

As soon as we got down to Frenchman Street we noticed that traffic was blocked off and there were no signs of why... until a man ran by in a red dress. Then a few minutes later, three more men ran by in red dresses. And then after that there was a flood of people running down the street, all in red dresses! Men and women alike! My friends and i had to get out and investigate and when we asked someone what was going on he responded, "It's August and we're running in red dresses and drinking lots of beer."

And in that one statement, from a man wearing a red dress, i discovered the key to understanding New Orleanian culture. Sometimes, it's not necessary have a reason to enjoy things. Sometimes, celebration is allowed to be spontaneous and free and sometimes, there's no better place to find it than in the moments that really arent all that special.