Pseudo-Nostalgia

This morning I stopped at QuikTrip to fill up the Xterra with gas. At the time I didn’t think anything about it, but looking back, that will be the last time I will ever have to fill it up.

This is such a relief, that car is such a gas guzzler. My Civic is so much more fuel efficient. I am so thankful that I will not be spending a fortune on gas anymore.

It seems like the last time that I would fill the Xterra up with gas would have registered as a more significant of an event than it did. It was, however, just another mindless task of the morning: the gas gauge was a quarter full, I stopped at the QT on Prescient on my way to school. It is such a habit. I wished that I had stopped and thought about it a little more at the time.

By this time next week, Katie will have the Xterra and will be responsible for filling it up. If I remember correctly, she is taking me home on Wednesday, so she can have it through the rest of the school year so that she can move out.

I will have three days of finals where I will have to park in locations where I will not be ticketed. It’ll be worth it.

Part of me is feeling nostalgia: the Xterra has been such a big part of my life this school year, it should be a bigger deal that I am about to say goodbye to it. Another part of me cannot wait and it has been too long a wait.

Repatriate

In Archaeology the past few weeks, we have been talking about repatriation. This involves museums and university giving American Indians (yes, this is the new politically correct term) their artifacts back to curate as they see fit, this could include reburial.

The beginnings of anthropology and archaeology are plagued with a bad reputation from their beginnings. In the 19^th century, it was common place to desecrate American Indian burials for skull collections. Clearly they would not enjoy their burials being desecrated.

Because of these beginning trials during the skull wars (a term that has recently been coined), relations between American Indians and anthropologists have continued to be clouded.

Through repatriation, relations would (in theory) get better and the American Indians might begin to see that the intent had been to save their history, not destroy it. This, in addition to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA), would make the jobs of future archaeologists and anthropologists.

It is just an issue I thought I might bring to your attention. It is very interesting and the arguments are all very convincing. I can’t decide which side I agree with. What do you think?

Amuse Bouche

There is something magical about going to a Mexican (well, really Tex-Mex is the better term to use) food restaurant: when the waiter brings out the chips and salsa, my heart always skips a beat.

I think that every culture needs an equivalent. Italians have garlic bread/breadsticks (I am a little disappointed we don’t do this at work) and Mexican cuisine has chips and salsa. Why don’t we have something so iconic like this in our diet?

American food is stigmatized through our fast food chains. We are in such a rush in life, we cannot take twenty extra minutes to enjoy an appetizer when we go out to eat.  This is so much so that many American families (mine included) would prefer the convenience of fast food to the hassle of a sit-down restaurant.

This topic has been revolving in my head all night (I am writing this on Tuesday night). I called Katie to see if she wanted to have lunch tomorrow. Neither of us have class during lunch on Wednesdays, and lately we have gotten in the habit of meeting then so that I can give her stuff that she left at the house, we indulge in lunch and each others company while we just happen to be meeting.

Last week we got Which Wich (a topic for another post), so this week I let her chose. Generally her palate dictates that we go to Chili’s. While I do love the chips and salsa there, it is not great food by any means. This week, she is pushing the boundaries and taking us to a Mexican place on campus.

I am really looking forward to trying this place. But then again, how good can it be in comparison to the traditional Mexican food that the cooks at work make for me on occasion.

My Civic Duty (Part Three)

Two hours later, I was driving my new (new to me, but not technically) car home. It was a great experience knowing that this was thoroughly mine, something that I had worked so hard to get and so enjoyed.

The icing on the cake was that they let me steal a giant balloon from the showroom. It seems like a weird thing to be so happy about, but holding that balloon next to my car and taking a picture with Dyan was the moment in my life where I truly felt accomplished. Not walking across stage to get my diploma and getting a hug from the principal (who I liked despite nobody else liking her). Not sitting in my first college class. Not getting a 50% tip on a night at work where I was being treated like crap. No, standing there next to my car, balloon in hand, and taking a picture with the wonderful lady who had treated us so well was when I finally felt like I had accomplished something with my life. If you haven’t had that moment yet, just wait, the feeling is great and you will never want to let go.

I have three weeks of school left, it would be pointless (or at least dumb) to spend $40 on a parking sticker, so I will have to wait to parade my vehicle around. But once summer comes, it’ll be hard to pull me away from that wheel.

I have one last thing that I want to tell you, if you are looking to buy a used Honda, go to Dyan Smith at David McDavid. You will not regret it.

My Civic Duty (Part Two)

Financing through the dealership. I decided that if we were going to have to pay a higher interest rate that I would want a car that would last for longer, aka the Honda Civic.

My mom decided that she would be able to go look at earliest this past Thursday, I had to work, however, so we had to push back the escapade to this Saturday.

Our first stop was Huggins. My mom did not want to deal with any crap from a Used Salesman. When he told her that the best deal we could find would not be from there, we left.

Disgruntled and fed up, we went to our mothership. Nordstrom. She had to return a pair of shoes (ones that were way expensive, but very amazing) and make an exchange. Upset upon leaving that she was leaving such beautiful shoes, we left the store still downhearted.

Our next stop was futile, they did have the change in color of something she had just bought at Ulta. Our third stop after the first dealership was Dress Barn to make a return. I hate bargain shoppers. That place might as well have been hell for me. I could feel the cheap clothing and angry attitudes slowly collapsing around me.

We were a tad hungry and didn’t want to go back to car shopping with bad attitudes and empty stomachs, so we stopped at Super Salad. This was the best choice we could have made. We had a healthy, filling lunch and were able to cast off out bad attitudes. We were ready to go back out to a dealership.

My mom had visited David McDavid by herself earlier in the morning to scope things out. Upon arriving, we were not greeted in the parking lot, which if you have gone Used Car Shopping is very odd. My mom, once again turning sour, leads me to the building, where we stand in the lobby waiting for the guy who had helped her earlier.

The floor manager was out and really upset that there weren’t people watching the lot, my mom concurred. He directed us to Dyan Smith. She was amazing! She made my mom’s day enjoyable, and she never is happy at a car dealership. We took the car we wanted to look at for a test drive. A dark blue 2008 Honda Civic with 29,000 miles on it. For a used car, it was practically new.

I just happened to test drive that exact car three weeks earlier so already knew how much I loved it. The floor manager and Dyan were able to get us a great price, one below book value. We were sold.

My Civic Duty (Part One)

I have been in desperate need of a car. There are just three weeks of school left, and once summer hits my sister (Katie) and I would be competing for the Xterra that we currently share.

I should probably tell you, this is not the first time we’ve had to share a car. We also have had to share our old 1989 (yes it is older than me) Volvo. Don’t get me wrong, this was a great first car. We never had to put a single bit of work into it (the exception being when I hit someone in the parking lot…twice…whoops). This car is a legacy in our family. It was our Grandmother’s, and my mom will be heartbroken the day it is taken away to the Can Academy.

Well, with summer on its way, my sister already has a job waiting for her working at the gift shop at the Ballpark in Arlington (or at least I believe she does). And I will be continuing (and picking up more shifts) at my job.

The Volvo is currently dead, so we are forced to share one car. It would be practically impossible for us both to get along with our busy schedules while sharing one car. I would probably just end up spending all day at work, every day at work. Contrary to popular belief, I do want some sort of summer, which would be why I am not loading up my free time with summer school classes.

We have been looking for something for about a month now. Three weeks (or so) ago, we went and actively looked and test drove. Our plan was to find a car I liked, then apply for a loan at Chase, and then buy the car for wholesale price at a car auction.

We had it narrowed down to a Chevy Cobalt and a Honda Civic. The Cobalt was the cheaper of the two, so we were going to start there. We went and filled out the loan application, and got approved. We found the car. All seemed to be going well.

When we went back to the bank to fill in the last of the blanks and finalize the loan, we got denied. This is a story in itself, and don’t really want to reveal such personal information as to why on the Internet.

My world was crushed. It was back to square one. I was devastated. It felt like my world had built itself up just to crash down on top of me, which is not the best feeling as you could imagine. We wouldn’t be able to finance through the bank, what was next?

Little Boxes

Life expects us to conform to be a certain way. Society has told us that we should all fit into the same exact mold to be correct.

My question is, why must be all striving to be the same?

Upon thinking about this topic, the song “Little Boxes” came into my head. Does anybody else know that song? It really shows the irony in our journey towards conformity.

We all strive to live in the suburban “perfect” household. If Nancy Botwin has taught us anything, it is that nothing is as it seems on the surface. Below the exterior of perfection, there are cracks and crevices of imperfection that are detrimental.

I want to be able to be myself and not be told that I am living my life and acting in ways that are wrong. I want to be quirky and still be able to be accepted into society. I don’t want to be compared to Barbie and Ken, they are not (or at least should be not) models of how Americans should be.

The Script

Is the British Invasion back again? There is such an influx of good British groups/singers hitting the American charts.

I cannot write about modern British groups without mentioning Coldplay. Were they beginning of the revival of the British Invasion? Has their success led to Snow Patrol and more recently hitting the charts Cascada and La Roux?

These groups, however good, are not the focus of this post. This post will focus on my more recent musical attraction: the Script.

In the past few weeks, their single “Breakeven” has finally hit the big time on the American charts. It is long overdue, having been released in October of 2008. How did we not know about these guys for so long?

I would highly recommend listening to their CD. The twist and turns through the song have left me wanting to listen to it more and more. “The Man Who Can’t Be Moved” was actually the first of their songs that I heard.

At work, we hear the same songs every day. For a little while, Charlotte and I would hear this song every Tuesday night. Shazam (the iPhone app) refused to identify it for the first few weeks. I am completely convinced that if it had identified that first night, then this post would have been written a month earlier.

Really though, guys. If anything, check out those two songs. You will enjoy them.

Forgetful Me

Today, my political science class was canceled. We’ve known for several weeks now, and I was even reminded at the end of last week. True to form, however, I forgot and was very confused when I got to class on time.

I had also forgotten (yep, two things in one day, very typical) my TCU ID at home. So I couldn’t go to the library or the student union while waiting for my Spanish class.

I was forced to drive home.

Driving the Xterra with its 15 miles per gallon is just great for my wallet. I am not going to lie, it is going to be nice when I get my new car (and when I say car, I mean car). So much less gas money.

If I didn’t have to meet with my archaeology debate group (if any of them actually show up), then I would seriously consider just staying at home for the rest of the day.

Italics

Paper

The traditional first anniversary present is “paper.” This was created in a time where a photograph was considered high class. We need to update these themes to more modern-day appropriate things.

For instance, today’s equivalent to the then paper would be e-card. Well, that is perhaps just insulting. Maybe we should just drop this tradition as a whole. I mean, eating the top layer of your wedding cake one year after it was made…that is a little gross.

Today is a big day for my shortie and I. I have yet to introduce her into my blog, because this will be my modern-day-equivalent to paper gift. Perhaps it is more of the thought that counts, but rest assured, I got her a real gift as well.

Elizabeth Marie-Louise Gladstone moved to Texas in the summer before her junior year in high school. She was in the marching band at her high school in Michigan, and so joined at her new school. They did not have a spot for her in the varsity show as a flute, but a spot in the colorguard opened up during band camp. Bravely she stepped into a new world. This is where she met me.

I remember the first time I saw her, I was trying to figure out why this girl was standing in someone else’s spot. I remember that someone else had stood there in June. Was it destiny that placed her in the spot in front of me on her first day? I think so. It wouldn’t be for another week that she would join the ranks of colorguard, but destiny already had a plan for her.

Destiny didn’t take another leap forward until about the third week in school, when she joined my friend, Charlotte, and me in our calculus class. Then again when Charlotte dropped calculus, leaving just Liz and I together. This was the beginning of our friendship.

We really didn’t start to get that close until the fall band trip, when we went to Grand Nationals. There, we became best friend and were practically inseparable. From there, things only escalated.

By January, we both had emerging feelings for each other. By February, I was already asking her to date me. It wasn’t until April 11, 2009 that she finally agreed to be my girlfriend.

We by no means have a perfect relationship. Who ever does? But this past year has been filled with the best moments of my life.

Happy 1 year, with many more to come.

The Driving Apocalypse

The past week, every night when I get off work there is construction going on. I am really happy they are not closing the Main Street bridge on highway 121/114 during rush hour traffic, but do you need to do it in the middle of the night?

This is probably very conceded of me, but they shouldn’t close down on my way home. I have a hard day getting from school to work on time and then get crap at work, I don’t need to deal with more crap on my way home! I mean, come on!

People see construction and become like a deer in the headlights. Suddenly they need to stop halfway onto the highway ramp, they need to back up on the service road, etc. It is construction, not the apocalypse.

Moral of the story: be good drivers people!

I swear the world better prepare for when I’m a billionaire.

Let me preface this post by saying, if you haven’t listened to Billionaire by Travie McCoy than you should listen to it before reading this.

“I wanna be a billionaire so fucking bad…”

Who doesn’t? This is my question. I do really like this song though. I downloaded it on Tuesday night and keep finding myself playing parts of it through my mind. I love how relatable it is. Who doesn’t want to see their name in lights? Who doesn’t want to buy everything they never had?

I have to admit though, I do feel a little ashamed that we as a society focus so much on money. I really wish that we could just be happy with our social standings. But who am I to judge? After all, one of my dreams is to buy myself a Burberry coat…

Barefoot

Today I am walking around barefoot on the TCU campus. Not because I cannot afford shoes to wear, but to bring to people’s attention that children around the world go barefoot every day.

This event is sponsored by TOMS, which just happen to be my favorite shoes ever. I wear a pair practically every day. So instead of just making it another day that I would wear one of my eight pairs of TOMS, I decided to join people across the nation and go “One Day Without Shoes.”

For those of you who do not know anything about TOMS, you should really check out their website (www.tomsshoes.com). The program is amazing, for every pair you buy they will send a second pair to children in need (generally in Africa or South America, but they have done an American drop before).

For those of you who can’t go barefoot, just go for part of the day. That is what I will be doing since I have to wear shoes at work. I have been looking forward to this day since the beginning of the year.

Maybe I will reward myself with a new pair of TOMS. What do you think?

Bottle Shock

While rolling $13 worth of pennies this past Sunday night, I watched Bottle Shock with my mom. She is a very amateur wine connoisseur and enjoys watching movies in which real wine life takes place.

Sideways was, perhaps, the beginning of this new start in her life. I can still remember sitting with her on the sofa and watching that movie, parts of which made me feel very awkward.

This movie was, however, much more accessible. You do not need to know nearly as much about wine to enjoy Bottle Shock, and it was a lot less adult (always a plus while watching a movie with a parent).

Alan Rickman’s dry British humor can’t help but make you laugh. Chris Pine was a relatable, hippy-esque teenager just trying to find his place in the world. It was nice to see Bill Pullman in a movie again. And I am sure we will see Rachael Taylor in another movie very soon.

For those of you enjoy a good laugh and an interesting twist to the American dream, check it out. By the end, you will be rooting for Napa Valley.

"Wine is sunlight, held together by water." -Galileo Galilei

Mini-Pizzas

I have worked at Napoli’s for about six months now. I love the job, I enjoy most of the people that I work with, and I make enough money to sustain myself. The one thing I wish I could change would be to make the customers treat me better. I deal with a lot of crap at work.

On Friday night, Kylie, Courtney, and I have started to make mini-pizzas. They are fun for us to make, take less time in the oven than normal pizzas, and are so much fun to eat. The simple things in life make me happy.

It began with the idea that we could conserve the excess dough from things and use it at the end of the night. The past Friday, however, we just made six mini-pizzas out of a medium dough ball. Why we didn’t just make a medium pizza? That is a good question that will forever go unanswered.

My question is, why hadn’t Kyle and Courtney thought of this before? They have both worked there for a long time, Kylie since they opened almost six years ago. When I asked, they just said that they had done other things with it, just never this.

Lately, that has become the highlight of my workweek. I deal with so much crap, and this has become my reward. No longer are the tips the best perk of the job, the mini-pizzas are.

The Wonder that is Language

This semester I am taking a linguistic anthropology course. I know I should probably talk more about school since it is such a big part of my life; however, that is beyond the bounds of this blog entry. Back to the story…on one of the first days in class, we were asked how we would go about drawing, “he is not standing next to a giraffe.”

Think about that for a minute.

I have become a fairly decent doodler since joining the ranks of TCU students, so my mind went racing. The only thing I could think of was to draw a stick figure next to a dotted-line giraffe.

The lesson was that we can say so much with words that we cannot communicate any other way.

I am not sure what made me think of this, but I want to send a message out there. Be thankful that we have developed speech over the years since our species appeared on the Earth. Or else, how would we tell the person next to us that they are an albatross trapped in a human body (which, by the way, I am).

Vegetarian

I was a vegetarian for five and a half years. It was a big part of my life. Almost a third of my life I was a vegetarian, and yet, I hardly remember eating meat before that…

I remember liking hamburger and steaks, but not much else. It seems like forever ago that I decided to become a vegetarian in the first place. What I remember about that night is that I was at the hibachi restaurant and the plate was still full in front of me, but it made me sick just to look at it because I was so full.

So, I gave up meat for a week. Which became a month. Which became a year. Which became a significant part of my life.

Part way through, it wasn’t about the food anymore, it was about the meaning. The idea of killing a living, thinking thing just to sustain myself when I could live just as healthfully as a herbivore. Seeing or smelling meat just made me sick to my stomach.

Being a vegetarian made me learn a lot about myself. It opened my eyes to so many new kinds of food. I attribute my taste level to this period in my life. I learned how to live a more healthy life. In the beginning I ate simply junk food, by the end I made my health educator of a father proud.

Going into college seemed like a good point in my life to transition back to eating meat. It is a feeling that you cannot explain. It was just the right thing to do.

I still don’t eat all that much meat, I am still not completely comfortable eating it. And when I do, it can only be chicken or fish. Red meat will probably never be part of my diet.

I have to convince myself to put the meat into my mouth each time. It feels so unnatural for me, at this point, to eat meat, even though I’ve been eating it for six months now.

Never Good Enough

I have always been the person who could never do anything quite well enough.

I am as smart as my sister, but was never quite able to live up to the standards she set at school. She excelled at the things she loved and I stayed stagnant, never quite being able to improve.

My parents would never tell me to my face, but I have let them down in my life. I could have done as well (if not better) than her, but I didn’t.

Maybe I am setting the bar too high for myself. Maybe I should just give up. Accept that I am destined for nothing but mediocrity.

I am mediocre at school: I am about to lose my scholarship, I may not be able to make it to law school, I may be ruining my entire future.

I am mediocre in love: I have never been good enough for anyone.

I am mediocre at work: I work so hard and still get crappy tips, I deal with so much crap for nothing.

Bleached Cucumber

I know my way around the kitchen, but when a website told me to bleach the fresh veggies that I give my fish, I was a little taken aback.

I do not know all that much about fish, but I know for a FACT that bleach kills. It has nothing to do with fish, bleach will kill all living things.

Upon further research I find out that this simply means to put it in boiling water. Boiled cucumber. Sounds tasty. Who am I to judge the taste level of my fish.

I have been worried that my bottom feeder has not been getting enough food. Whenever I put algae pellets in the tank for him, the goldfish eat it before he does. I was told fresh veggies would be a nice snack for all three, but they floated and so Pleco didn’t get any since he is a bottom dweller. Another conundrum.

This is the solution. By boiling the cucumbers, they lose their buoyancy and float to the bottom. I put three in, so hopefully there will be some for him at some point in the night.

Here’s to hoping…

Tiger Kitty

I have exciting news.

My mom’s boyfriend has cats that live outside his house. He feeds them and takes care of them. Occasionally one of them will get knocked up and have a litter of kittens on his porch.

Generally he just gives them away to people, or lets them join the procreating pool…but this time, he is going to save one for me.

Perhaps my nagging has finally paid off. My mom does seem genuinely excited about getting a little kitten. Before my sister and I were brought into the family, my mom’s babies were her two cats. My sister ruined those poor cats’ lives.

The kitten (who is yet to be named) will live upstairs in my room. I will miss Dakota sleeping with me, but perhaps this cat will like to snuggle…either that, or it’ll just be there to stink up my bathroom and stare at my fish.

No, little tiger kitty. Those fish are not for eating.

I am very excited about the new addition to the family. I just hope the pack leader (A.K.A. my dog, Dakota) will accept her as part of the pack.