Monday, December 30, 2002
Am in Las Vegas. All is well. Down $2 so far (but then, I haven’t gambled that much this trip).
Round One of new pictures is up. Share and Enjoy!
Monday, December 23, 2002
I went through a friend’s yearbook from our sophomore year of high school. I didn’t buy the book that year because, well, I didn’t care much for the school or many of the people in it. 365 days later, well, I was enamored of the place, for better or for worse, and I bought a yearbook that year because I desperately wanted to hold on to my friends that were leaving.
I browsed through the things my parents were keeping from my grade school days–class pictures, awards, homework assignments… Right after I graduated from eighth grade, I wanted nothing to do with my former classmates. But I got a chance to hang out with a few of them at a former friend’s 21st birthday, and it was all right. Maybe they weren’t so bad. I saw our faces through the years, and wondered how each of them have grown, matured in their own way.
I listened to the noisemaker on my Super Millennium Snoopy from Macy’s play “Auld Lang Syne,” and I remembered bittersweet New Year’s Eves spent at Carrie’s in Crystal Lake, perhaps more sweet than bitter. I could see, very plainly in my mind’s eye, the virgin snow covering the barren trees of the forest behind her house. I could remember, as clearly as if it happened yesterday, the day a friend of mine and I were shopping at Macy’s and I asked her to buy that Snoopy for me.
“Kryptonite” by Three Doors Down reminds me of the daily commute on the F train–but the Pet Shop Boys’ album “Nightlife” reminds me of straphanging on the 4/5/6. Oh, I never perfected my Times-reading-while-straphanging skills (demonstrated by mastery of the trifolded broadsheet) because I had AvantGo.
I ask: is it too early in my life to be nostalgic like this? Or is this indicative of something else?
Saturday, December 21, 2002
…to my parents’ house I go!
So long, Pittsburgh; hello, Chicago! And then: VEGAS! w00t lolol
Happy holidays, everybuddy. Do not forget to *enjoy* the *sauce*.
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
It was that memorable evening in March
Out at the end of the jetty
She was wearing a white cotton dress
And I mistook her for a rowboat
Monday, December 16, 2002
Arr, da Whiffy is up an’ running. The manual made it seem a lot more complicated than it was (hook up patch from port on DSL router to uplink on the whiffy and let DHCP take its course). I’m only getting like 4Mbps max throughput, but it’s ok since I don’t anticipate doing heavy transfers between here and the desktop.
For lack of a better hobby, I’ve been going through people’s photo albums. At least this one’s honest about where she got the pictures from…
So why am I up at 3:30? You tell me.
Sunday, December 15, 2002
Quick notes about tonight, since I’m still under the influence of an open bar but I want to get this down:
Le Mont, 1114 Grandview Ave., Pittsburgh. UPMC Radiology Department holiday dinner. Excellent view of downtown Pittsburgh. Almost made me forget I was in Pittsburgh. It evokes memories of being in southern California for some reason (the thing that ruins the image is the confluence of two sizable rivers–something you don’t find in southern California). Very elegant restaurant, reminded me of the more upscale eateries back in the city (Chanterelle, Gotham Bar and Grill) but the food didn’t quite match the surroundings. Hors d’oeuvres pleasing. Salad was good. Lemon sorbet prior to main course was nice touch. My main course–salmon in some breaded shell or something was okay, maybe a bit dry but still tasty. Dessert was okay. The consistency of the creme brulee was bizarre–it was thicker and more solid than you would expect, but it was passable. But when you’re not paying, you really can’t argue.
(Holy shazzbot, Yi can dance. And he’s a ladies’ man to boot. Incredible.)
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
I’ve been taking days off and keeping odd hours as I combat various “health issues.” This week, though, I’m trying to get back into the game so I can get something done before I take off for Christmas and New Year’s.
A friend of mine at work drops by my little cubicle.
Me: “Can I help you?”
Her: “I just wanted to see how you are. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Me: “Yeah, well.”
Her: “Are you in love?”
Right. Yeah. Whatever.
Me: “If I were in love, don’t you think I’d be happier than I look?”
Her: “I don’t know, you seem pretty happy. Anthony’s in love!”
Me: “Let’s just say that there are other places I’d rather be.”
Her: “Exactly.” *continues taunting*
I have a love-hate relationship with this season. I love the weather, love the snow, love the feeling of a new liturgical year. Choirs of angels singing “Joy to the World,” accompanied by string, wind, and brass in churches whose architecture inspires great awe. People seem to be in good spirits. But at the same time, those people inspire the deepest, darkest BITTER. The cheer just seems too fake, or too superficial, or like they’re missing the point somehow.
And then the biting wind chills me through my warm leather jacket right to my core, and I remember the bittersweet moments of winters past.
