6.29.2008

I've Remembered Something I Don't Like

And that hellspawn fiend is called 'employment'. Or rather, searching for employment. I was reading my sister-in-law's blog (we all read each other's blogs because she and my brother live in Madison and while yes, we all have cellphones and e-mail and god knows how many other forms of communication, it's a right bitch to actually get in touch with other people. At least, I think so. My housemates will call me on my phone from downstairs rather than come up to my room. Perhaps I have a skewed world view.) Anyways, I was reading her blog, and she is searching for a job and hates it. I hate this too. However, she is a college graduate, and actually now is a graduate school graduate. Not to make her situation any less than it is, but that's like being Lance Armstrong's kid on Take Your Dad To Class Day. For comparison, I'm the kid whose Dad is a traveling carpet salesman or whatever it was Willy Loman did. I also hate Death of a Salesman.

That is not the point. The point is my especial dislike of applying for jobs, because this past summer, like last summer I tried to line myself up a nice internship with one of several organizations in the Twin Cities. I figured, hey, this is a thriving metropolitan area, I am a qualified student, a future professional, a whatsit-in-training, why not apply for some real world experience. This summer, I even made it past my goalpost of last summer and actually had interviews with a couple of places. Did I get any internships? Hell no. Why not? I know exactly why. Because any time I've ever had to apply for anything (as opposed to being the beneficiary of nepotism, since every job I've ever worked Martha has worked at before) I'm always asked 'Describe a situation in which you've shown leadership.' Leadership? Are you goddamn kidding me?

First of all, I reject the notion that interns should display leadership. Leadership is for the seniority of the organization, to be bestowed upon the intern. That is why they are there. If they came into the place with leadership skills, then you would call them an employee or even a manager, which I wouldn't mind being, especially if I got benefits and a nice salary. Also, you want your interns to do what they're told, not what they think they should do. In that regard, I've got a lot of leadership. In most of my work situations, I go full strength in the Peter direction. If I were my boss, I'd fire me. I'd fire me and then smack me up a bit. I want an intern who shows up on time, leaves a bit later than is expected, does all the work required of them, and doesn't burn up the office. Surprisingly, this is a difficult request. I would know.

Second, while it is worthwhile to inquire whether or not someone has leadership experience, it is only worthwhile in the sense that it is worthwhile to ask potential hires if they are only seeking employment to fuel a drug habit, or to overthrow the government. You're not likely to find many 'yes' responses. Whenever I am asked about leadership in job interviews, I struggle. "Does walking drunk roommates back to the dorm count?" "How about that time when I didn't get us all lost on a hiking trip?" "I once showed leadership by turning in a paper before the due date. And I spell checked it before hand." Yes, I realize I have leadership in the sense that I am more competent than a lot of people I know, but rarely is this situation translatable without actual anecdotal proof.

In high school, lots of kids did volunteer work, or they would run for student office, or something like that, and granted I did a bit of that because it beefs up your resume for, guess what, applying for college. None of it is actually practical. I know a tremendous number of people who were in leadership positions in high school and possessed less ability to lead than Bush. For pity sake's, I just read a headline article about one kid in my high school class who was convicted of first-degree murder this last week! Winston Churchill had leadership. Mahatma Gandhi had leadership. Scandinavia has leadership. People around my age, by and large, do not.

To future employers of me, I will warn you thus. I can inform you ad nauseum of the different ways in which I am competent enough not to warrant a grand jury investigation into my hiring. I cannot however give you specific case studies of 'leadership'. Maybe I should start a genuinely volunteer fire brigade. That wouldn't just involve leadership, it would also involve moxie, gumption, pluck, and many sympathetic jurors.

An Update, For The Sake of Updating

Nothing much new has happened lately. My wounds have finished suppurating and are now scabbed over, so they can begin healing. My bike is in a relative state of tranquility. Only four people died while in its presence this last week, and while I couldn't get a priest to exorcise it, I did get some Jehovah's Witnesses to pamphlet it. I had an acrostic themed party last night, the results of which were an absence of police intervention. For those who did not come or still do not know what an acrostic is, it is a poem... well, lemme just show you. My friend Kai came up with this one.

K ill
A ll
I nsects

Or my friend Kaia.

K ill
A ll
I nsects
A gain

Or my friend Hannah.

H aters
A ttitudes
N eed
N ot
A pply
H ere

Joe had a great deal of difficulty coming up with his. His was eventually

J acob
O rders
S on
E phraim
P ass
H allah

Although technically that doesn't work because hallah is really spelled challah. My favorite acrostic of his was

J '
O uvris
S on
E cole
P our
H aricots

Which translated means (roughly) 'I open your school for green beans). I like it very much, especially since it is in French and is amusingly absurd. Did I mention how much I like things that are absurd? I was raised on Monty Python, after all.

This was mine from last night.

P ercival's
E arly
T errestrial
E xplorations
R ocked

T oday,
R uthlessly
U ndermined,
A re
X enohydrological

Yes, I know that xenohydrological is not a recognized word, but let's face it, the X section of the dictionary is slim. And I will award myself bonus points for coming up with an acrostic that is not only complete, but sensical. It tells the story of the work of Percival Lowell, who discovered Pluto, but later hypothesized that the valleys of Mars were actually canals built by an advanced Martian race. That, of course, proved to be bogus. Still, and interesting man.

In fact, most people named Percy are interesting. Take Percy Grainger as another example. Percy Aldridge Grainger was an Australian composer, who was fluent in 11 languages, was a sado-masochist, designed his own clothing, mostly using towels, was a fond fan of European racial superiority, dumpster-dove for parts with which to invent instruments, rarely cleaned his clothes (and was at times arrested for it), and was a vegetarian who hated vegetables. All around, quite an interesting individual. And one of my favorite composers.

What else can I write about? Well, let's start with things I dislike. I don't like traffic. I don't like Robert Mugabe. I don't like when my shirt sticks to my back when I'm sweating. I don't like movies with battle scenes where the archers don't start firing until the enemy is right at the wall. Okay, so coming up with things I don't like isn't so easy.

I'm drawing a blank on what else I can write about. Well, lately I've been waking up around noon. Normally, I don't mind this, as my bed is extraordinarily comfortable, and my room is pleasantly cool, in spite of the recent heat we've been having. However, I don't like waking up so late in the day because it means so much of the day has passed me by. Then again, it's summer and why in the hell ought I to be awake at eight or nine (not that I'd ever want to wake up at eight or nine)? This morning, as my friend Callie told me last night, Xcel Energy demolished a 500-ft. smokestack, and while I was awake at 6:30 because I had set my alarm, I decided I was much too tired to get on my bike and bike all the way to downtown. So, did I miss an historic event? Maybe. Did I enjoy me some nice bedrest? Absolutely.

One thing that I do like: sleeping.

Also, nerf guns.

6.24.2008

A Tumble, A Dribble, An Olive Branch

I forcibly inherited my father's 1979 Itoh bicycle, and since I took it out of the storage space in the garage, it has been nothing but trouble. First, I had to swiped down fifteen years of dust and grime and make sure it was in proper working order. That lead my dad and I to discover there was a leak in the rear inner tube that later turned into a blowout. Well, okay, I figured, the bike is like 30 years old, it's fine if the inner tube blows once. Next, transporting it to St. Paul, the derailier managed to become dislodged and the frame bent, preventing the gears from changing. This would've been easy enough to correct, except I didn't remember how it was put together originally. Through trial and error and help from my friend Andrew, I managed to get everything in place. That was fine, except I still had to fix the inner tube. I managed to get that done on Sunday, only as my housemate Alison and I were biking to work, the new inner tube blew out. I decided I had had enough of this, and bought and installed new tires. That was last night. So this afternoon, like every Tuesday, my housemates and I were getting ready for a bike ride to one of the lakes in Minneapolis. As we reach the River Road, everything is going fine, and then I, in my haste and impetuousness, decide to take the inside curve around my friend Molly at a pretty high speed. She, not knowing that I was there, accidentally veers slightly into my path, and while I call out, neither of us has time to react. Luckily, neither of us were badly hurt. Molly was a little shaken up, and I have several large bloody scrapes on my left arm and leg and some scrapes on my right palm and leg.

I am convinced that the bike is cursed. I shall have to have it exorcised before I can use it for exercise.

Additionally, Joe and I were in Stillwater at my friend Nick's last night, and as we were leaving this morning, I took him around Stillwater to see the town. We stopped at Nelsons, and I impressed him with the size of a child's scoop of ice cream. For any of you that are familiar with Nelsons, a child's scoop, the smallest size available is something like half a pint. It's a bit of a joke among people from my home town to bring out of towners there and then let them order a single or even a double. And yes, there are larger sizes; a triple scoop, which is actually four scoops, each about the size of a soft ball, and the Lumberjack, which is five scoops and you must bring your own bowl in order to purchase it. As we were leaving, and it being a hot sunny day, our ice cream started melting a lot faster than we could eat it. Being a practiced hand at the fine art of eating ice cream speedily, I kept pace for most of the time. Joe on the other hand was hopelessly lost. He lost the battle before we got more than a quarter of a mile from the store, and was dripping all over himself and my car. He stuck his hand out the window, only to find the wind and direct sunlight accelerated the melting. I should've had more foresight and stayed inside the shop a little while longer until we got the cones under control. Oh well. A little ice cream never hurt anyone.

On a more positive note, I was taking my bike out last night and I ran in to our neighbor, the one who reported us the other night. Her name is Mrs. Lally and is actually quite nice. She waved to me and said she hoped my housemates and I didn't think she was a shrew. She herself is a landlady, although her tenants are a Mac professor over on Fairview and Goodrich. We spoke for a while as all good Minnesotans are wont to do, and I think things went very amiably. Harley even told me today that she had made her a coffee cake.

I'm going to go nurse my wounds and watch some more PBS. I've been watching Nova on a website called hulu.com that has a ton of shows for free download. I encourage you to check it out.

6.21.2008

Life Amongst Others

All my life I've been spoiled in ways that are only now becoming apparent in part because I'm living (semi)independently. For instance, always having clean dishes, or having a cool place to sleep, or even being able to feed yourself were always thoughtless actions. Now, everything I do is more and more planned. However, in spite of what skills at planning I have, there are always things that I cannot control.

Specifically, last night it was my housemate Allison's birthday. Being that it was her birthday, we threw her a party. Being that there was a party, lots of people were invited. Being that there were lots of people invited, things got a bit rowdy and loud. Being that we live in a city, and being that things got a bit rowdy and loud, the neighbors got angry. This led to our landlord coming to our house at nine in the morning, demanding everyone wake up, and gave us a good talking to. He also made us go and apologize to our neighbors.

For most of my life, I had the most benevolent landlord possible - my father - but then again I've always been the model tenant at home. It is my home as well, after all. So in moving to Portland Avenue, I took that attitude with me as much as I could. Still, I am living with other people. If the dishes aren't clean or if newspapers have been left out, I believe it is my responsibility to step up and fix what needs fixing. I love my housemates very much, as they are some of my closest friends. Nonetheless I must remind themselves that they are not my siblings, nor are they me and moreover they all have their own different living styles. My siblings and I are perhaps four of the most similar people in the world when everything comes down to it. I know of no people who are closer to me in personality, interests and certainly not upbringing.

I digress. The reason I mention that is because I always feel strongly towards a living space. If I had to write a set of rules by which I live, I'd say...
1) Clean up after yourself, and others from time to time
2) Don't expect to get thanked. If you want thanks, earn it
3) Make sure there is lots of storage space (rule of thumb, 3:1 storage space to living space)
4) Be courteous to guests, make sure they have something to eat or drink, and offer them a place to rest if they need it
5) Treat those around you - housemates, neighbors, etc. - with the same respect you would like reflected upon yourself
6) Make sure everything is in good repair. If something is broken, fix it. If you can't fix it, ask for help. If there is no one to help you, find someone. If you cannot find someone, there is something horribly flawed about your life
7) Keep yourself cool in summer and warm in winter
8) Turn off all lights, close all doors, but never live in fear or anxiety
9) In the event of fire, first try to put out the fire. If that cannot be done, save first the people, then the pets, then the treasured memories, then the tax returns
10) Love your home, even if you are there for but a moment

Therefore, in upsetting our neighbors I feel bad. Not because of what I did, because that is the folly of youth, but because I was not considerate of those around us. Hopefully, I can mend the bad step upon which our neighbors and we have started. Perhaps a cake is in order.

6.20.2008

At Home (Briefly)

The last couple of nights, it has been just a little too warm in my bedroom for me to sleep comfortably. As a result, I have been waking up periodically in the middle of the night. For those of you who aren't familiar with my sleeping habits, I enjoy sleeping above all else. Were Jules Verne to ride down from Heaven an his giant mechanical rocket-hummingbird and offer to show me the fabulous Sky City that he and Rembrandt had built out of diamonds, I would only go if I were allowed to be well rested. I never like to hop out of bed, and often my whole disposition will be determined by how I feel when I rise in the morning (or afternoon). I mention this because my lack of sleep has been making me a bit stressed, and so I decided to take a break and come home.

I quite enjoy being home for a couple of reasons. First, it is completely quiet out here. The traffic noise and general hubbub of the city is completely absent out in the woods here. Second, the lack of neighboring buildings means I have a nearly 180 degree panorama of the world above me (I always have a 180 degree panorama of the world below me; I just look down). Today, there were only a scant few clouds in the sky, and it was particularly nice. Third and lastly, the house is pretty clean and since my family has been living here for ages, all the little these and thats that I might need - say, the new New Yorker, grape juice or a comfortable couch - are here. And now that my car is fixed, I can actually go home.

Today, I went for the longest bike ride of my life. I know this unequivocally because I don't often go on bike rides, and I usually follow the same two or three routes. I have recently discovered that my stamina, either through general maturation or through frequent moving about at college, is much improved. I was on my bike for about two hours straight, up and down hills from my house to Hwy 95 which is where my friend Abby lives. She was quite surprised to see me, as she was just getting out of the shower and had to be at work not too long from when I arrived. The bike ride back was a bit more difficult because I was already a bit tired, and it was all uphill and there was a brief thunderstorm. By the time I rode into my driveway, I was practically cursing. Still, it was quite an accomplishment.

Also, I got to see my Dad's garden. When Dad first built the garden when I was like six or seven, it was a nice little thing that by the time I was eight was in disuse. For the next twelve years, it proceeded to exist as an experiment in leaving the land fallow. True to form, weeds grew in and even some trees. However, for whatever reason - perhaps he needed a hobby - Dad decided it was time to resurrect the place this past spring. The beds are more or less completely tilled and planted, and covered in lakeweed as mulch. Come Fall, my family will have vegetables up to their ears - literally!

I however, will be in France. That is, provided I get my goddamn visa. The French government, those useless half-brained frogs, requires all study abroad students to apply to a program called CampusFrance before applying to receive your visa at the Consulate. Translation - you have to apply to apply for your visa. How typically French! The whole country is run by unions who wouldn't even vote to adjourn themselves out of a burning building if they could somehow scorn someone by allowing themselves to die in the conflagration. Nicolas Sarkozy thought he'd have a swipe at these implacable dinosaurs, but no no, the batshit-crazy socialist-indoctrinated French will riot if you so much as tell them they have to turn out the lights before they leave work. In the US, the national pass-times are baseball, paying taxes and contemplating whether or not your vote will matter. In France, the national pass-times are rioting over soccer games - won or lost -, shooting the tax man because those silly bastards in Paris think they're entitled to your money, and collapsing the government when the vote goes the wrong way - even though you didn't vote in the first place. Even more to the point, I was reading the synopsis of a new book on French history one day. The author wrote that, 'France, for much of its history was hardly one cohesive nation. Until the early 20th century, some of the most accurate accounts of French culture were those of Julius Caesar, written during his invasion of Gaul some 2,000 years prior.' Any time anyone goes to France and doesn't remark that they are all insane, unhelpful or often both, it means the writer was paid off or killed and replaced by a doppelganger.

So why am I going to France? Well, when God was handing out character traits to the peoples of the world, the French opted to emphasize their sense of beauty and aesthetics - albeit at the cost of abandoning all reason and sensibility. France excels at being beautiful without effort. America, home of Wal-Mart and New Jersey, can't find beauty without the help of either a lot of money and special effects or Puerto Rico. That, and I speak French better than any other language except English. And God knowns I'd starve if I went to Great Britain. The Euro is bad enough. That's all for now, I have a polka dot party to attend!

6.16.2008

iCentury

Yesterday was Father's Day, and I had a nice brunch with my dad, sisters, grandfather, uncle aunt and cousin. For future Father's Days, I will make sure my siblings and I cook whatever communal meal is required so we can skirt the half-billion-dollar buffet prices. Overpriced food, however, is not my main focus today. After brunch, we went to Rosedale Mall. I was already late for work, and a little anxious to get there for fear I might be fired and have to eat my clothes to survive the summer. There must be some primal fear surrounding the thought of me naked and starving that just keeps me from flipping off my boss, making a pass at that good-looking woman from accounting and walking off with $100 in post-it notes. Wait... that's not my life. Nevermind. So, at Rosedale, we walk in to the Apple Store, which for those of you who have been living in a cave or who are receiving this transmission from other points in time and space, non-terrestrially, is the mosque of Steve Jobs' caliphate.

Alright, don't take me too literally. I'm not trying to say Steve Jobs is a muslim, but like the first of that kind, he certainly has created a following. The Apple name is as ubiquitous now as Ford was when cars first came in to popularity. You'd be hard pressed to walk across a college campus, business place, home in the United States, or even Europe, East Asia or the South Pacific and not find an iPod, an iBook, an iPhone, an iProduct of some manner. It'd be like going to sea and not finding water - just can't be done. So back to the narrative, we walk in to the Apple Store, and I had genuinely expected us to be there to get Dad a set of replacement headphones (since I took his to college and lost them). This however, was not the case. Instead, a sales person or I'm sure they called him something very Apple-esque, comes over and my father and this man start talking. "Peter," says my father, "did you bring your student ID?" "No," I reply, "I never carry my wallet with me." (Important piece of information for all future muggers - don't bother with me, it'd be like an eagle trying to carry off a cow. It isn't practical for either animal) "Well then how can we get you a new Macbook?" says my father. "Huh?" I say dumbly. Then the gears start working upstairs and I realize that there is an ulterior purpose to my being there.

Well, long story short, I have now submitted, surrendered to the Apple. I now bow to the west five times every day, facing Silicon Valley, and will one day before my death make a pilgrimage there to look upon the splendor of Creation. Maybe I've got my religions and corporations confused. My bad. On the plus side, I have a new computer! In the interest of time and interest, and because the Rockstarship is running out of fuel at the moment, it just so happens the rest of this story can be addressed in the Q&KaBAM! Timezone.

Q&KaBAM! Time

Ann Lamond of Baltimore, MD in the 44th century writes,

Q: "Commodore, I work at the National Archives, and I came across transcripts of your adventure journal. Writing across time and space, I wanted to ask you why if you have a computer already do you need another one? Granted, everyone in the 44th century has at least five of everything, including thumbs."

KaBAM!: "Ann, you're changing events in history by writing to me, but who am I to say what's correct or not? I enjoy my computer very much, my big black Nobilis peppered with bumper stickers and mismatched keys. It's like a plucky little racehorse that will certainly never win the Triple Crown, but won't be left in last place either. However, like a racehorse, it is loud, heavy, gets hot quickly, can only run so long on its own before collapsing, doesn't connect with the outside world well and incidentally the screen has gone wonky just yesterday (It's bizarre to see that on horses...) The Macbook is like a Bugatti in comparison - sleek, slender, subtle, goes places, does things, picks up my groceries. And by the time I go to France, I should have liked to have had a new laptop, because mine is five years old and technology in our day and age rarely stays top-notch that long. So soon, I shall bid goodbye to my old laptop, my magic box, and take up life with the white pearl."

To be honest, I'd be happy with a typewriter. How do I fit into your demographic models now? Ahahahaha!

6.13.2008

Small Wishes

There are several things I wish for, and when I am emperor, I shall get them. In the meantime, they remain wishes.

1) I want everyone to maintain an 18-hour day from the hours of approximately 10Am to 4AM. Failure to do so will result in banishment to a black hole.

2) Money will be abolished. Instead of money, all value shall be based upon a persons ability to high-five. I would be quite wealthy in this new economy.

3) I shall have a personal plane. No. Rather, I shall have a personal rocket that shall take me to wherever I wish to rocket off to. Granted, I have the rockstarship, but let's face it, that's strictly metaphorical, and by the time the 747th century rolls around, I may or may not have discombobulated.

4) Queen Elizabeth II and Goldie Hawn will have a boxing match on my front lawn, followed by Oprah Winfrey juggling flaming knives with Albert Einstein on a mile-tall unicycle.

That is all.

6.12.2008

Standing Up To The Challenge Of Our Rivals

To my seventeen billion daily subscribers, I say: Worry not! The Commodore and the Rockstarship continue on the intergalactic adventure, no matter what foibles befall me. As the Gospel according to Survivor indicates, it's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight, standing up to the challenge of our rivals, and the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he's known to us all as the eye... of the tiger. Dun dun dun, dun dun dun, dun dun dunnnnnn. While my afternoon might have been dreary, after having a bit of lunch and heading off to work, things brightened. At work this week, we've been doing thank you calls, which are blissfully easy. Even though most alumni are usually excited to hear from us, even the grumpy ones like getting thanked. Who doesn't like getting thanked? "Another thank you from Macalester College? What a bunch of overly grateful pricks. I'm never giving again!" No, it never happens like that. In fact tonight, on a night when we are completely not asking for money, I got nearly $600 in donations. For the record, that's more than I've brought to the college ever. Except when I donated $30 million to name the MARC the Shivaun, but the check got lost in the mail.

Also work was particularly enjoyable because Elias was there. Elias is an international student from Greece. Everything he wears is designer made, including his socks. His calls to alumni make us all a little nervous that we might all be fired when Brian Rosenberg learns that alumni no longer give due to an overly confrontational Greek guy working at the annual fund. He is also the most ridiculous person I work with. Take the following transcript from this evening...

Elias: "My neighbor has been kidnapped."
Stephen: "Does that happen often in Greece?"
Elias: "No dumbass, it isn't Italy."
Hillary: "Wait, is this that one neighbor?"
Elias: "No! I'd actually be sad if it was her."
Me: "Why would you be sad to have one neighbor kidnapped but not the other?"
Elias: "Because... she's like my mom's best friend."
Hillary: "That's not the only reason."
Me and Stephen: "What?"
Elias: "Nevermind."
Me: "Okay, there has to be a reason. What, did you like, sleep with her?"
Elias: "Yeah."
Me and Stephen: "WHAT?!"
Hillary: "Oh, did he admit it?"
Me: "You slept with your mom's best friend?!"
Elias: "Yeah."
Me: "How old was she? Are we talking MILF?"
At this point, we all crack up and Zach our boss walks over. Granted, Zach is only like three years older than us, we quickly turn quiet.
Zach: "Hey guys, what's so funny?"
Elias: "My neighbor got kidnapped."
Zach: "Elias, you laugh at the most inappropriate things!"
Elias: "That's not why I'm laughing."
Zach: "Okay, how come then? Is it something I shouldn't know?"
Me: "We'll tell you when you're older."
Zach shrugs his shoulders and walks away. Stephen and I turn back to Elias.
Elias: "Well she was 33 then."
Me: "Then?"
Elias: "I was sixteen at the time."
We all start laughing incredulously.
Elias: "Hey, she gives me the best Christmas presents!"
Me: "Clearly, you gave her the best..."
Zach had walked over again at this point and we all go back to work.

If that wasn't enough, later on that night I'm working at my desk and I hear Elias talking to an alum. "What?! You're so incompetent you make me want to cry. This isn't a spelling bee!" He was trying to take down the business place of an alum that was called "Riesenow and Holstein Art Forgers" or something like that. Maybe if it was like "Nikodropolis and Anastos Uzo Brewers" it would have been easier for him to spell. However, one should not assume that just because Elias is amusing to me that I enjoy his company. His mannerisms towards others are equally applied to all, including myself. Today, he kept scoffing at the fact I was wearing white socks. I can understand him scoffing if I'd been wearing like a Miller Lite shirt with sweat and grease stains, but white socks? And they were clean even!

Also the stress of the day was slightly lightened when I discovered from the college that I stand to make about $450 in the next pay period because of the work I did for reunion. Yay! Still, I'm perpetually reluctant to spend money, even when I have it, and there's no word on what's up with my car. Maybe if I sacrifice some kind of urban woodland creature to the gods of automobiles and highway management. It's modified from an old Masai ritual intended to cure gout.

Q&KaBAM! Time

Gwyn DeVrees of Bloemfontein, South Africa writes...

Q: "Commodore, you've been quoting the titles to a number of 80s hits in your blog. I understood from your fifth autobiography that you mainly listened to classical music. What gives?"

KaBAM!: "Well Gwyn, being a commodore of a 747th century Rockstarship requires one to be well versed in the music of all cultures and throughout all times. While certainly, classical music is still my favorite genre of music, if I were to start using lyrics from say, the Messiah in my transmissions, my adventure journal would quickly take on a millenarian overtone with which I doubt I'd be comfortable. Likewise, even if I steered away from the religious realm of classical music, I'd either be infringing on famous poets like Shakespeare or making no sense at all. For instance, if I were to title a transmission "English Horn - C-C-D-E-C-C-Quarter Rest-C-A-C-D-D-C" or something like that, I'd lose subscribers across the board. And then the advertisers would bail, and the Rockstarship would cascade into oblivion like a declining red supergiant. Mostly, I just like listening to 80s music from time to time. A little variety is good for the mind and soul."

Walk a mile in another man's shoes, and not only are you a mile away, but you also have his shoes.

6.11.2008

Every Now And Then I Fall Apart

There is good reason for my picking Bonnie Tyler's words for the title of this transmission. I'm running out of money, my car won't start, my bike needs fixing, my room -almost two weeks after having moved in- is still not all set up, I need to get my life in order for going to France in less than two months -namely I need to pay bills, get a visa, apply for various travel benefits- and I'm probably also not consuming enough calories because it's irritating difficult to cook for myself when I have a dozen other things to do. I thought that living on my own would be easy and enjoyable. Haha. No. This has been the most stressful and expensive period of my life. That and it won't stop raining. Fuck.

6.10.2008

Voyagering

Since I've already transmitted twice in the past two days, I'll make this short. Today, I woke up realizing that time is flying by. This is too bad, because my summer will be especially short - I leave August 6th for Spain, and then to France. I am waking up earlier than during any other summer, usually around 10 AM. Hopefully, I'll be waking up even earlier in due time. I enjoy a bit of morning time, especially since my room is so well lit in the morning.

Today, I woke up and sorted the last of my clothes that have to be put on shelves and on hangers and what have you. Slowly my room is coming together, like a giant Rubik's Cube of furniture, clothing, knicknack and carpet. I am lazy however, so it is slow work, and I sacrifice a good deal of time I should devote to housework to spending time with friends. I also haven't had time to read much yet, although I did recently finish "In A Sunburned Country" by Bill Bryson. Now I want to visit Australia. Well, I had always wanted to visit Australia. Now I want to visit Australia a lot. Will someone please lend me $10,000? I promise I'll bring you back a live kangaroo.

After I woke up, I went on a bike ride with Ryan, Molly, Joe and Allison to Lake Calhoun. It was especially nice and sunny, and I had never seen the Greenway before (okay, that's not completely true. I came there once when it opened several years ago with Helen and my Uncle Tom and Aunt Rebecca. It was nice, but there was a clown there that frightened me, as all clowns do and should). It is quite pretty - the greenway, not the clown. We played frisbee in the water, and I found some nice rocks. Molly however, was unaware of my recent fondness of rock collecting and started throwing some back into the lake until I stopped her. It was probably for the best as my backpack was quite heavy already. I got a fair bit of sun, and I'll get more as soon as it stops bloody raining every other day!

Once we rode back, Joe, Molly and I went to a choir gathering and I had the best watermelon I've eaten in ages. I love fruit, and I'm glad that I'm actually getting a decent amount of fruit, especially cherries. However, the two pounds of cherries Molly and I got for the pot luck cost *$11.57* When I build my time machine, I am going back and sewing the ground all about the Twin Cities with cherry trees, and we shall eat cherries like they were... uh, like they were candy! Free candy! Free candy for everyone! Yeah! Okay, now I'm tired, but I have to be social for some reason. Goddamn interpersonal relationships...

No Q&KaBAM! Time tonight. The Commodore is exhausted. Let the Commodore rest or else no cherries!

6.09.2008

Life at Home No. 2

I have now been in residence at my home on Portland Avenue for just over a week now. I have yet to spend a full week here yet, since with one thing or another, I've either been at my house home at Kerry Court or working the Reunion until wee small hours. I am gradually getting more and more settled however as furniture gets moved into correct positions and decorations go up and dishes find their way into the correct cabinets. It's almost like living in a Harry Potter house minus the wand and with a lot more cracked paint. About half the outlets only have sockets for two prongs, and the walls of my room appear to be made of cement(?) because you have to nail things in to get them to stay. On the whole though, the place doesn't smell (except the basement, which has a curious musk of cat piss, fungal life and old man), is relatively cool (but so is the weather as a whole) and I can't hear my roommates from my room (although I only have one on my side of the house currently, and she is quiet normally). Maybe the whole world will come crashing down tomorrow.

Speaking of that, I also discovered that the floor by my desk slants slightly. Soon all of my housemates will have arrived, and then we'll have a big party and possibly all be arrested. I don't know whether I'm for that or against that yet. It certainly would make for interesting stories to tell my children. I find that time is, as usual, slipping past me. I was thinking today how I am going to become a junior next year, and how I'm already half done with college. I remember being a junior in high school and wanting so badly to go with all of my senior friends off to college, and how I wanted high school to end more than anything in the world. Now the reverse has occurred. I'd give mostly anything for a few more days here and there in the last two years. It's like my professor David Lanegran once said: "Life is like toilet paper. Every instant, like every individual sheet, is exactly the same length, but as you roll more and more out, each sheet becomes a greater proportion of the whole." He also said the opposite of a mother is a witch and that we must always judge strangers on the street as either our mothers or witches, and that the witches would eat us. I'm sure I learned a lot from that class, but it will have to settle in my mind before I can use it properly.

I'm going to go find Joe and watch Batman Begins. I love Batman.

Q&KaBAM! Time

D.H. Chatterjea of Kolkata, India writes,

Q: "Commodore, who is your favorite superhero and why?"

KaBAM!: "Obviously the answer is Batman. Batman, unlike Superman, is an ordinary human being who does amazing things using his strength of mind, body and character. Superman was just born with the ability to bend bars and shoot lasers from his eyes (while under an M-type star, of course) My other favorite superhero is myself, however my powers are yet fully formed. Perhaps when I get blasted by gamma radiation, or fuse my body to an elaborate machine..."

Better a slip of the tongue than a flick of the wrist.

6.08.2008

Reunion!

Oh my goodness! Today is Sunday, and I've been working for the Macalester Alumni Reunion since last Wednesday. It has been so much work, but every moment has been worth it. As commodore, I give all who worked with me a 21,000 gun salute. I will certainly do it again next year, and I encourage all of you who are able to join in. So what did I do? Drove golf carts, bartended, set chairs up, ran errands, schmoozed with alumni, all around did whatever was asked of me (including making more buttons than one could rightly shake a stick at, would on be inclined to shake such a stick). I worked almost fifty hours in four days, which might not sound like a terrible amount, but two days, I was working nearly 15 hours straight. Oy vey!

I also met a whole bunch of neat people. Most of the reunion workers are international students (including both our coordinators, Lilla and Najada). Many domestic students don't have opportunities to interact with international students during the year, so this was a great chance to meet a lot of people I otherwise wouldn't have. I think its too bad that more domestic students don't do things like this, because they're all such neat and kind people.

I am now quite sweaty, and need a shower and a nap.

Q&KaBAM! Time

Theresa Bergstrom of Butte, MT writes,

Q: "Commodore, I have lived in Montana all of my life and I am definitely a big sky gal. You live in the city, but you grew up in the country. What do you think of the transition between the two environments?"

KaBAM!: "While certainly eastern Minnesota is nothing like Montana, I did grow up on a large plot of land on a lake with only a handful of neighbors. Growing up, I often wished that I had lived in town, closer to my friends and things to do. However, even so I enjoyed the countryside very much. The perpetual quiet from manmade noise (except lawnmowers and occasional shotguns), the openness of the lake and all the green surrounding me really left an impression on me. Living in the city now seems cramped and stifled, where it is never truly dark, and never very quiet, even though it is more exciting. I suppose I should take advantage of my youthful ability to adjust well to these adversities. I am certainly very grateful that I can go back to where I grew up any time, and although I enjoy my life in the city now, I would certain like to move back to the country one day."

May the Force be with you!

6.02.2008

Domesticity

I have a house! Okay, so I have a single room that leads into another room in the attic of half of a house. Homeownership is still a few (hundred) weeks off. The room itself is maybe 16’x12’ and there is a little bit of an entry way that is the size of a Dupre single, or 8’x6’. The room is quite spacious. So much so that my throngs of crap might not even fill it. However, I have yet to acquire a desk and I haven’t filled up the bookshelves. I’m absolutely broke right now, so I’ll either have to craigslist things or wait until the bank is buffer for big purchases. I have a double bed, a small chest of drawers, and some shelves and a low bar to hang clothes from. Total bonus though: there is a really comfy loveseat up here! It’s awesome.


Moving was not especially difficult. Helen and Dad both came with to help, and then my friend Ian Noble and us went to dinner at the St. Croix broiler. The only problematic part of moving was fitting a double box-spring up the stairs that were a little too small for it. In the end, we just sawed the box-spring into two slightly thin twin box-springs. The splinters aren’t that bad.


I only have one half-housemate, Alison Liss. Harley Brown and Allison Olmos note the second L, that is a key distinguishing feature) live on the other half of the house. Tim Campbell and Amir Zinkow will be joining us on our half in a few weeks (Tim has the other room of the top floor) and Josh Porte and Caitlyn Cohen will be joining Harley and Allison – Caitlyn in only two days!

I need sheets, a fan (or two) and maybe I’ll paint. I’d also like to soundproof the door between Tim’s and my room, because I keep late hours and often like listening to music sans headphones. That might be a sore spot. I hope not. Tim is a cool guy.


I can’t actually post this, because we won’t have wireless until Tuesday, but… imagine that I had been transmitting this at the speed of light!

Q&KaBAM! Time

Youssou Ndore of Bamako, Mali writes…


Q: “Commodore, what are your thoughts on the rebuilding of New Orleans?”


KaBAM!: “I have never been to New Orleans, and therefore I cannot speak on it except in a removed sense. My good friend Lynn Cohen (I know a lot of Cohens) went there over spring break to do humanitarian work, and she said she had a great time and that it was an eye-opening experience. All I can say is that I hope they rebuild it safely and with a greater degree of consideration that was given when it needed help most. I’m always a fan of green urbanism, so I’d like to see that. Basically, I hate Las Vegas. Don’t build in the desert, and especially don’t convince millions of people to live in said desert. P.S. Don’t even think of taking our water.”