Sure, it was charming two days ago.
Yesterday it was laughable.
Now this crap must cease.
Blizzards in New York are okay, because New York is such a pedestrian city that you're still able to navigate. Blizzards in Richboro are okay, because the community knows how to clean up after itself in such an event.
Blizzards in Forestville, Maryland are no fun whatsoever. Apparently, this area doesn't see 18 inches of snow all that often. I think this qualifies as the fifth-largest snowstorm in recorded history in the DC area. So they have no bloody idea what to do about this. Two days after it stopped snowing, most of the main streets are clear, but small roads and parking lots are a mess. Lots of places are still shut down.
For the past few days I've been playing the jaded Northeasterner to Jeffrey's the-folks-back-home-won't-believe-this Texan. I've been saying things like eighteen inches isn't so bad. Wait until a three-footer. I can so handle this.
But I never had the joy of shoveling a car out of an apartment complex parking lot, without a shovel. Not only must you contend with your neighbor shoveling snow into the vicinity of your vehicle, thereby doubling your workload, but you must do so with a mixing bowl and a dustpan. The let's-go-play-in-the-snow-whilst-we-dig mentality fades real fast. At least some other neighbors are nice, and they have shovels, and they save your bowl-scooping behind from three hours of liberating the Blazer.
And it's only the middle of February. I'm buying a shovel.
Robyn
Monday, February 17, 2003
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Fear and Loathing in DC
I'm angry at the news and at my goverment. It's not a happy feeling. I'm angry that I'm angry.
The news has been broadcasting semi-hysterical reports on what you should stock up on in the event of a terrorist attack. These lists are presented in the same over-hyped manner in which they tell you what you should buy in the event of an expected snowstorm. They're not quite sure what kind of attack we're in for, or who will execute it, or where it will strike, but by golly, the government says that three days worth of water and a couple of rolls of duct tape will save your sorry ass from this undefined, but profoundly nasty, thing that may or may not go down IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD.
I don't really want to be a cynic. I don't really want to mistrust the government. But these reports are extremely frustrating and more than a little insulting.
The list of things to buy are a lot like the "Duck and Cover" drills of the 50s and 60s, in which the American public was led to believe that putting your hands above your head or ducking under a picnic blanket will save you from nuclear fallout. Will these things really protect your family?
How can you protect them if you have no idea what it is you're afraid of?
I understand that the failure of the government and the armed forces to forsee (or at least prevent) the events of September 11 needed serious rectifying. But creating a society based on fear and paranoia is not the way to do that. It's not a society worth fighting for. It's not a society I want to live in. Whatever happened to "we have nothing to fear but fear itself"? This is a society in which fear is marketed by the news for ratings and promoted by politicians who are desperate to push their agendas on a doubtful public. This is a society where fear is color-coded and categorized as though it were the weekly weather forecast:
"We're in for a few more days of orange, which will give way to yellow, which is characterized by a more general degree of fear than we're used to seeing in this area. The DC area can expect 4-6 inches of fear overnight, while Baltimore can expect a light dusting. You might want to take your umbrella and duct tape in the morning."
If the definition of terrorism is "the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion," then just who are the real terrorists anyway?
Robyn
The news has been broadcasting semi-hysterical reports on what you should stock up on in the event of a terrorist attack. These lists are presented in the same over-hyped manner in which they tell you what you should buy in the event of an expected snowstorm. They're not quite sure what kind of attack we're in for, or who will execute it, or where it will strike, but by golly, the government says that three days worth of water and a couple of rolls of duct tape will save your sorry ass from this undefined, but profoundly nasty, thing that may or may not go down IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD.
I don't really want to be a cynic. I don't really want to mistrust the government. But these reports are extremely frustrating and more than a little insulting.
The list of things to buy are a lot like the "Duck and Cover" drills of the 50s and 60s, in which the American public was led to believe that putting your hands above your head or ducking under a picnic blanket will save you from nuclear fallout. Will these things really protect your family?
How can you protect them if you have no idea what it is you're afraid of?
I understand that the failure of the government and the armed forces to forsee (or at least prevent) the events of September 11 needed serious rectifying. But creating a society based on fear and paranoia is not the way to do that. It's not a society worth fighting for. It's not a society I want to live in. Whatever happened to "we have nothing to fear but fear itself"? This is a society in which fear is marketed by the news for ratings and promoted by politicians who are desperate to push their agendas on a doubtful public. This is a society where fear is color-coded and categorized as though it were the weekly weather forecast:
"We're in for a few more days of orange, which will give way to yellow, which is characterized by a more general degree of fear than we're used to seeing in this area. The DC area can expect 4-6 inches of fear overnight, while Baltimore can expect a light dusting. You might want to take your umbrella and duct tape in the morning."
If the definition of terrorism is "the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion," then just who are the real terrorists anyway?
Robyn
Tuesday, January 7, 2003
Playing House
There has been a severe lack of updates due to a severe lack of opportunity to go online due to a severe lack of a stable existence over the past few weeks.
Got that?
To whit, I left New York on December 21, went to Washington DC for three days, went to Richboro for two days, DC for one day, Texas for a week, and returned to DC on Saturday.
Life is slowly returning to something resembling normal, although the apartment is still in the moving-in stage. Which is a nice way of saying my books, videos and other assorted crap is strewn all over the place awaiting the arrival of bookcases and other furnishings that will make it a little more homey in here.
And there's the pesky lack of employment to contend with as well. And insurance, phone plans, etc.
Playing house is hard.
I suppose that should suffice as far as boring personal updates go. Next time I'll talk about something more fascinating, like the Animal Planet channel.
How I love Animal Planet.
We'll talk later.
Robyn
Got that?
To whit, I left New York on December 21, went to Washington DC for three days, went to Richboro for two days, DC for one day, Texas for a week, and returned to DC on Saturday.
Life is slowly returning to something resembling normal, although the apartment is still in the moving-in stage. Which is a nice way of saying my books, videos and other assorted crap is strewn all over the place awaiting the arrival of bookcases and other furnishings that will make it a little more homey in here.
And there's the pesky lack of employment to contend with as well. And insurance, phone plans, etc.
Playing house is hard.
I suppose that should suffice as far as boring personal updates go. Next time I'll talk about something more fascinating, like the Animal Planet channel.
How I love Animal Planet.
We'll talk later.
Robyn
Friday, December 20, 2002
So Long, Farewell
I couldn't ask to leave New York in grander style.
Mum came up for the afternoon for lunch, and we went to the Rainbow Room at the Big Pretty Building. Unlike most times that we've gone to pricey, famous New York eateries, we actually enjoyed the food and atmosphere. When we first got up there, it was pretty foggy. But after awhile (and after Mom temporarily convinced me that a particularly nasty front was about to unleash a tornado upon Midtown Manhattan), the weather cleared and we had a lovely view of the south of the city. We followed the nice lunch with a victory lap through Rockefeller Plaza, Fifth Avenue, Grand Central and finally Penn Station. Now my feet are tired and I'm too weary to go out and do more even if I wanted to.
So I guess that does it for me in New York for awhile. It's been a swell three years. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad to go. But I believe I'm going for a reason that is infinitely worth whatever heartache comes with leaving. Besides, there's a lot more trouble to cause, er, good work to be done in Washington as far as making a difference in the world at large. So let's see what I can find...
Adios, New York. It was fun.
Robyn
Mum came up for the afternoon for lunch, and we went to the Rainbow Room at the Big Pretty Building. Unlike most times that we've gone to pricey, famous New York eateries, we actually enjoyed the food and atmosphere. When we first got up there, it was pretty foggy. But after awhile (and after Mom temporarily convinced me that a particularly nasty front was about to unleash a tornado upon Midtown Manhattan), the weather cleared and we had a lovely view of the south of the city. We followed the nice lunch with a victory lap through Rockefeller Plaza, Fifth Avenue, Grand Central and finally Penn Station. Now my feet are tired and I'm too weary to go out and do more even if I wanted to.
So I guess that does it for me in New York for awhile. It's been a swell three years. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad to go. But I believe I'm going for a reason that is infinitely worth whatever heartache comes with leaving. Besides, there's a lot more trouble to cause, er, good work to be done in Washington as far as making a difference in the world at large. So let's see what I can find...
Adios, New York. It was fun.
Robyn
Monday, December 16, 2002
Soy Un Perdedor
Today was a lonely day, as Christine is gone and I'm all by myself in the dorm room. The threat of a transit strike and the crunch of finals have made it difficult for friends to come play with me in the evening, so I was left with the prospect of taking myself out to dinner, since supplies in the kitchen are low this week.
But before you cue the violins and break out the hankies, I did manage to have a pretty entertaining night, and was able to embarrass myself without anybody's help.
I decided to take myself to TeaNY, the vegan cafe/tea shop owned by one Mr. Moby. It's been awhile since I was there last, and since they have a marvelous selection of teas and it's within walking distance, I went by myself to get some dinner. I took some Christmas cards and my journal to keep me busy while I waited for my food.
It wasn't busy at all when I went in, and eventually I was the only patron in the place, munching on a fake turkey club and key lime tea (I know, I know. But since I'm only in Lower Manhattan for a few more days, let me indulge in some hippie dippy goodness while I can). Suddenly, Mr. Moby and some of his pals bound into the place and sit directly behind me. All of a sudden, I'm in the ninth grade again, sitting next to a kid I have a crush on but am too scared to talk to, let alone keep my hand steady enough to hold a teacup.
So not cool.
In the end, I didn't wind up talking to him at all. Which is okay in that I've talked to him before and he was with his friends and all. But I did feel like I should have capitalized on the moment. So I grabbed one of my Christmas cards, scribbled something about how I appreciated his music and the role that it's played during my time in New York and that I'm super-sorry about your recent beating, and when I finally left (which was a good hour or so after Moby & Co. did), I left it on my seat and fled into the night.
Needless to say, I feel less than super cool now. Especially when I realized that I slightly under-tipped my nice waiter. Sheesh. But that's okay. Because I'm never ever ever going back there. At least not for a good few months.
Incidentally, I discovered that vegan cheesecake is actually quite good and that eavesdropping on rock stars and their friends can be surprisingly boring when all they're doing is singing along to the New Wave tape that's playing in their restaurant.
Robyn
But before you cue the violins and break out the hankies, I did manage to have a pretty entertaining night, and was able to embarrass myself without anybody's help.
I decided to take myself to TeaNY, the vegan cafe/tea shop owned by one Mr. Moby. It's been awhile since I was there last, and since they have a marvelous selection of teas and it's within walking distance, I went by myself to get some dinner. I took some Christmas cards and my journal to keep me busy while I waited for my food.
It wasn't busy at all when I went in, and eventually I was the only patron in the place, munching on a fake turkey club and key lime tea (I know, I know. But since I'm only in Lower Manhattan for a few more days, let me indulge in some hippie dippy goodness while I can). Suddenly, Mr. Moby and some of his pals bound into the place and sit directly behind me. All of a sudden, I'm in the ninth grade again, sitting next to a kid I have a crush on but am too scared to talk to, let alone keep my hand steady enough to hold a teacup.
So not cool.
In the end, I didn't wind up talking to him at all. Which is okay in that I've talked to him before and he was with his friends and all. But I did feel like I should have capitalized on the moment. So I grabbed one of my Christmas cards, scribbled something about how I appreciated his music and the role that it's played during my time in New York and that I'm super-sorry about your recent beating, and when I finally left (which was a good hour or so after Moby & Co. did), I left it on my seat and fled into the night.
Needless to say, I feel less than super cool now. Especially when I realized that I slightly under-tipped my nice waiter. Sheesh. But that's okay. Because I'm never ever ever going back there. At least not for a good few months.
Incidentally, I discovered that vegan cheesecake is actually quite good and that eavesdropping on rock stars and their friends can be surprisingly boring when all they're doing is singing along to the New Wave tape that's playing in their restaurant.
Robyn
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Moby
Evidently, after a performance in Boston, Moby was attacked by three guys who maced him and punched him repeatedly in the face and head. They got away before the police could catch them.
That is so not cool, to say the least.
For one thing, Moby is not the most physically imposing person you'll ever come across. If you want to attack somebody randomly, you could pick a better target that would pose more of a challenge. Unless of course, you're new to the random beating scene. In that case, by all means go for the skinny, hippy-dippy pacifist vegan musician. You can work your way up to people who would actually put up a fight once you perfect your skills on the wussies of the world.
I sincerely hope that the three gentlemen who jumped Moby didn't do so because of something silly like an Eminem song. Maybe Moby owed them money. Or slept with one of their girlfriends in college. That would still be pretty retarded, but not completely asinine.
Maybe they were from the beef industry.
Anyway, I recognize that the moderately serious beating of a music star is not real high on the list of problems of the world at large. It just bummed me out.
So not cool.
Robyn
That is so not cool, to say the least.
For one thing, Moby is not the most physically imposing person you'll ever come across. If you want to attack somebody randomly, you could pick a better target that would pose more of a challenge. Unless of course, you're new to the random beating scene. In that case, by all means go for the skinny, hippy-dippy pacifist vegan musician. You can work your way up to people who would actually put up a fight once you perfect your skills on the wussies of the world.
I sincerely hope that the three gentlemen who jumped Moby didn't do so because of something silly like an Eminem song. Maybe Moby owed them money. Or slept with one of their girlfriends in college. That would still be pretty retarded, but not completely asinine.
Maybe they were from the beef industry.
Anyway, I recognize that the moderately serious beating of a music star is not real high on the list of problems of the world at large. It just bummed me out.
So not cool.
Robyn
Friday, December 6, 2002
Ma-Ma-Ma My Menorah
I have procured for myself my first very own piece of Judaica.
I found a lovely silver-plated menorah at that bastion of all things Hebraic, Pottery Barn.
It's a damn fine menorah if I do say so. It's a bit too classy for my humble dorm lodgings, but I plan to hold onto it long enough to give it a properly dignified home someday.
As it is, the poor thing has to suffer not only being surrounded by craptastic Yaffa gear, but, due to a woeful shortage of Chanukah candles, it currently has pieces of paper rolled up to resemble candles shoved into its holes.
The menorah's a bit pissed.
Tonight being the last night of Chanukah, it only has a few more hours to go before it gets put away for the year. I hope it won't hold a grudge. A cranky menorah is nobody's friend.
Robyn
I found a lovely silver-plated menorah at that bastion of all things Hebraic, Pottery Barn.
It's a damn fine menorah if I do say so. It's a bit too classy for my humble dorm lodgings, but I plan to hold onto it long enough to give it a properly dignified home someday.
As it is, the poor thing has to suffer not only being surrounded by craptastic Yaffa gear, but, due to a woeful shortage of Chanukah candles, it currently has pieces of paper rolled up to resemble candles shoved into its holes.
The menorah's a bit pissed.
Tonight being the last night of Chanukah, it only has a few more hours to go before it gets put away for the year. I hope it won't hold a grudge. A cranky menorah is nobody's friend.
Robyn
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