5.27.2011

(un)smartphone

a few good reasons not to get an iphone:

especially if you text your parents

or

you want to prolong a dying relationship

ouch.

5.25.2011

fall

it's hard to remember the rainy days of my childhood. i know they must have occurred, but when i try to picture trudging across the elementary school playground in a downpour, my memory is blank. i don't remember denim clinging wetly to my legs, nor drops of rainwater falling from my hair onto a desk. rainy days are a hassle now, and i have no difficulty conjuring memories of the long, soaking bike ride from my apartment to campus during college, or the frustration of trying to cover breaking news stories in the driving rain. but my childhood is blank. beyond the fact that it is meteorologically implausible that i passed through my youth without a rain-drenched moment, i can remember the days of physical education spent indoors due to a storm. i can picture the small, four-wheeled contraptions we used to wheel around the hardwood basketball courts, resembling miniature furniture movers goofing around on flat dollies.

but what i remember most is the giant silk parachute that the p.e. coach would haul out of some dusty closet and unfold in the middle of the gymnasium. my classmates and i would circle along the edge, grabbing hold of the soft fabric. at first we rippled the material up and down with furious pumps of our arms, as a few lucky schoolmates ran under the undulating canopy and peeked their head through the small hole in the center. then, with a little coaxing and cajoling by the teacher, we managed to float the parachute up, then down, up, then down, each time capturing more air underneath its belly, until the countdown ended and we reached up one more time, then raced forward and slid the chute behind us, plopping down on the edge and trapping the air inside. for a few graceful moments, the canopy floated above us, holding us within its embrace, the atmosphere growing warm with our breath. then the material sagged, losing its shape, folding in and wrapping us in its silky folds. i wanted those moments to last an eternity.

5.24.2011

turret

its been a busy few weeks here, and i haven't found much free time or energy to write up a new post or two. so i apologize. here's something with which to amuse yourself.

5.10.2011

damn bird

busy here, but i had a few minutes left this afternoon to crush my previous record at girp. if you haven't tried it out, click here and struggle through those first frustrating attempts to scale the rocky cliff. i'd hate to spoil the ending for you, so i'll just say that my time is 5m, 55s, so you have something to aspire to. enjoy!

5.05.2011

irrelevant fact of the day

statistically speaking, there are nearly six popes per square mile in vatican city.

5.04.2011

mystery meat

alright, i'll admit it. i went in to subway for lunch the other day with plans to grab a veggie sandwich, partly to stay healthy, partly to avoid the usually gross-looking meat products. let's just say that i stuck to that plan, as my latter concern was validated. while waiting to order, i scanned the menu out of boredom until my attention was drawn to the cold cut combo. below the name and a photo of a sub that looks nothing like any sandwich i've ever seen produced assembly line-style by hands gloved in plastic, a small line of text stated: bologna, ham, and salami. then my eye caught another, smaller line of text below that: all meats are turkey-based. my mind recoiled in horror. let's parse it out.

turkey bologna. ok, fine. who the hell knows what bologna is made out of anyway. it seems to be a vaguely hotdog-like substance, which definitely fits the mystery meat bill.

turkey salami. again, somewhat acceptable. pork or beef still seems like a better fit for cured meats, but we have turkey and chicken sausage, so why not salami? nonetheless, still slightly disturbing for reasons i have yet to pin down.

turkey ham. wow. let's just think about this for a moment. turkey. that's poultry. that has wings. ham. that's a cut of meat from the hind leg of a pig, surely. so what in the blazes is turkey ham? maybe pigs can fly after all.