This is my official Farewell, Adieu, Ciao! to Wordpress 22.214.171.124
As I wrote possibly my best blog post in a very long time (does only count as best?), I started going a little crazy with key commands and somehow navigated away from my page, ultimately deleting what I had just spent the last 30 minutes writing.
With no hope of getting it back with this non-automatically-draft-saving version of WP, I decided that it’s time to move on.
So I move in to the future with WP 2.2 . Thank you Eliot, my robot prince. I knew this day would someday come, and I’m so lucky to have you to help me through it.
One time early in my relationship with Els, I drove him past the big orange dinosaur on Route 1 in Saugus. It was where I went mini-golfing as a kid, and sometimes as a teenager too. There was a Dairy Barn inside, which to my remembrance, only served soft-serve ice cream. Batting cages…there were a few. I never dug though.
Most of my memories include my cousin Joseph, Nani, and sometimes Auntie Fran. “Magic days”, Nani would call them. When you tell people about the Route 1 mini golf course, they have no clue what you’re talking about…until you say, “You know, the one with the big orange T-Rex!”
A couple of days ago some good for nothing ratatats knocked down the dino! Read about it here, and see for yourself that faith that Diana Fay has that the dino will rise again.
Happy Halloween! Interestingly enough, this candy-fest holiday really does have something to do with feasting. Hallow’s Eve, as it was once called, is the precursor to All Saints Day. On November 1st, Roman Catholic tradition commemorates those people whose souls have been sentenced to purgatory. Like so many holidays we know and love, it’s a day of feasting. What better way to say, “Sorry you’re stuck in nullity forever…”?
I’ve been preparing for Halloween for about 5 days now. Not by choice, but rather by job description. Being a dance teacher of young munchkins, I (disdainfully at times) participate in all the traditions that children know as part of their life. This includes having dress up classes and parties for my classes on the week of classes prior to Halloween, and of course, on the holiday itself. I pass out black and orange goodies and pumpkinface stickers, play Halloween freezedance games to scary songs, and try my best to look unique when it comes down to it.
Today I hosted a Halloween party at Center Stage for my students who normally have classes on tuesday. It was an hour long, and only about 10 kids came. We had a great time, and today I was the Gypsy Queen!
So, feast away young munchkins, and don’t forget to bring me some extra candy!
On the mornings that I’m not hopping around like a frog, slithering like a snake, or jumping around like a monkey, I still return to one of my most pleasant memories of Cambridge. Not by reminiscing, looking at pictures or thinking of such things, but by reliving the mornings that were so peaceful. As I sit here in the backyard of my parent’s house, my laptop feeding off wireless, with cigarette in hand and coffee by my side, I have that familiar feeling - minus all the noise.
My motto of September was “time passes slowly”, or so it seemed. With some emotional grappling, and major adjustments in life, work, and style, time was on my side, and a little too much so. It’s funny how when one is in what you think to be an ideal situation, the feeling of never having enough time sets in. However, once that situation is pulled out from under you, time slows down, or so it seemed. As I’ve found my groove, so to speak, the time has been running quicker. Perhaps at a good pace now. I can see the end of the tunnel for things that have just begun. But this isn’t to say that one should sleepwalk through life, just to get to that place that she hopes to be. Instead to conquer it with a vengeance. I suppose, in so many words, to make the most of it.
We are heading in to the 5th week of Nutcracker rehearsals. I’ve only been present at 3, because my role as Assistant Director has restrictions. For what I hope to accomplish, I’m giving what I need to be giving. For what other people expect of me, it may be said differently. In so many ways, jobs come down to money, and with money comes a measurement of time. But why state the obvious, child? Because the personal comes in to play as well. Working with a group of people who I have known for 3, 5, some 10 + years, time and money has a whole different meaning. But that pull to keep a value on my time is strong. And if nothing else, it seems like the “right” thing to do. Using computers to measure our time with web-based software like dotproject is a good place to start.
Then it comes to other things in life, where time is measured in money, but for these things, the money doesn’t matter. I’ve been working on Shebrew lately, doing updates for new issues, and putting together a small photoshoot gallery to give a sweet farewell to the lovely summer months on the East Coast. Fall is here everyone, and this week’s theme is “Home.”
In other news, I just finished the book, Tuesdays with Morrie. I told my sister about it last night, and she said that it was on the 10th grade summer reading list last year at Melrose High. Morrie, a teacher, had so many beautiful things to say, and some that I took with me to teach my classes last night. Inspiring to say the least, and perhaps summed up in one of his many beautiful thoughts…
“Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too–even when you’re in the dark. Even when you’re falling.”
Over the Colombus Day weekend, Eliot and I went Apple Picking in Ellington, CT. The weather was perfect, and the trees were scarce, but we managed to find some nice apples for the picking! Not to mention, the aftermath of Jonamac crisp, pie, and lovely tastings.
This song has been running around my mind for quite a few days, only I couldn’t think of who sang it, how I knew it, and why it was playing each day in my head. The answers are, Cat Stevens…Eliot…and it’s lovely!
This is a rare 1989 Chrysler TC convertible by Maserati in Royal Cabernet that runs good. Running, registered, and insured. Good tires. Only 7,301 were built between 1989 and 1991 Model Years. This two-seater has a Chrysler drivetrain with a body and interior by Maserati. It has an economical 2.2 liter Turbo II engine with automatic transmission and front wheel drive. This car features a removable hard top and manual soft top. I have a brand new, in-the-box, A.A. Best soft top with a glass rear window which goes with the car (approximately a $500 value). The breaks work but the ABS doesn’t. The odometer stopped at 53,083 miles so true mileage unknown *. Window molding on passenger door could be replaced (shown in photo below). Sold as is.The car is currently in CT but would be able to deliver it to the Greater Boston area for fair fee.Please call Joe at (860) 707-4970 for more information.
Recent Mechanical Work:
Replaced the fuel lines.
Repaired power seat switches.
Added thick plastic headlight protectors.
AC was converted to EPA acceptable “Freeze 12″ refrigerant on 3/25/2003
Vehicle History (according to AutoCheck.com)
There are no accidents or any kind of negative occurences in this vehicle’s history report. As described in the vehicle report, this TC was a former Texas car and is shown in the report to be registered in Texas from 1994 to 2004. The registration was renewed and the vehicle passed emissions inspections in Texas every year from 1997-2004. The car was driven only 3,478 miles between 4/16/1994 and 3/22/2003. I aquired the vehicle in August, 2005. The vehicle passed the Connecticut Emissions on 9/21/2005 and is good through 9/21/2007. The car has been driven occasionally since I obtained it, putting on no more than a couple thousand miles in my estimation.
*Regarding the Odometer
The vehicle report shows that the odometer reading from 3/22/2003 was 52,998 miles. Then, for it’s successful emissions inspection on 4/21/2004, the odometer reading was 53,083. So the odometer probably stopped functioning sometime between 2003 and 2004.
Leatherique Leather Care Products.
Dashmart dash protector (shown in photos below).
A.A. Best soft top with a glass rear window.
Asking $4300 OBO.
The car is currently available on eBay.
Please click on the images below to view larger versions.
Forget the past, except for the past couple of weeks. After moving back home to my parent’s house, I took it upon myself to give my room a completely new makeover. The furniture pretty much stayed the same, except for some remodeling and seeing a red door, and I want to paint it black.
The big venture took place when I repainted my room from what could be called, “rock star blue”, to something a little bit more…zen, we shall say. Here’s my on my 4th day of painting, feeling the heat, but knowing it’s cool.
Recital Time.(See, Recital 1989) How do I describe it? It’s often known as “crazy” (i.e. insane). Or as my friend said on Gtalk the other day, “Oh snap, so you are in kook out mode.” I have a list-a-mile-long that is actually getting shorter by the day. My productivity levels have gone through the roof in a very physical sense. The digital end of my life lessens as the physical increases. Personally, I like both but there’s something extra special about the physicalities of running around, getting psyched, working the body, spending time with the friends and colleagues, and cleaning dances to be ready for the stage. It is my life, and I love it.
Mostly, recital time always brings me consistency. Alot can be inconsistent in life, whether it be love, relationships, good and bad hair days, splenda or sugar, Pall Malls or Basics… I tend to thrive off the constants, and there are some constants that I have been extra thankful for…the studio being one of them. What would I do with myself? The studio is like my heart and soul, and I’ve always used dance as this emotional release. Not in any super spiritual way, but moreso in the releasing-endorphins-from-movement sense. It’s really effective, I’ll tell ya.
Looking towards the future, things are looking up. I get to do more shows! Melrose Youth Ballet, which you heard about back in December ‘05 Yes, that’s me dressed up as a Victorian mother on stage, but this year there will be no waltzing, no curling of the hair, and no pretending to be prim and proper. Hell no peoples, I’m officially Assistant Director of the entire operation. It took a year of being their bitch to gain their confidence in me, but that’s okay because it’s all in the past. Here I am today with the mad skills of putting on shows, and they got to recognize big C when she brings down the house!
It really was no miracle. What happened was just this. The wind began to switch - the house to pitch and suddenly the hinges started to unhitch.
Today I got this phonecall from a mysterious woman from the temp agency that I supposedly work for. Oh, except for the fact that they never call me. And really, I call atleast every 2 weeks to check in about job openings. It’s really kind of worthless. But today they “found a perfect fit” for me. The person who reccomended me for the position was Joe, the man I met one on one with at my interview at the agency. The position was mostly administrative, working for the Harvard School of Public Health. I like Schools of Public Health personally. They fund a lot of research studies, and often times pay people to participate in them. I did a couple of them myself while I was in college. Also, the one’s I really like are ones that fund programs for the community. But I don’t know much about the Harvard one, I’m sure it’s fantastic. They needed someone to work in the department that deals mostly with “sensitive issues, such as death.” I would be fielding calls from patients/family members and other people who are near losing someone, or have lost someone already. Well, I thought, I’ll hear this one out. All the while thinking, “why me?” I know I’m a sensitive girl, but come on…
All in all, death is something I like to keep in close quarters. It has been ever-present in my life in the second degree for the past few weeks. And my heart can only reach so far, and it has been going out to friends and family for some time, and I want to save the good parts of it that are left to make more round trips when round trips are needed. You know, hearts use flyer miles too.
And to end, with a shameless shout out:
Center Stage Dance Studio presents its 9th annual production…
EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!
Friday June 16, 2006 ~ 7pm
Winchester High School
80 Skillings Rd, Winchester MA
It was hot, sunny day and the ancient ruins of a building unknown to me were crumbling on my left. Patio tables, fully decked with fried breakfast goods laid in plenty, surrounded a scene somewhat deserted. Running through with my friend, we stopped in delight and started filling our pockets with goodly treats. Turning the corner, a band of busboys and waiters start walking towards us. We dash past them, dropping a few pakoras along the way. Finally, we reach our destination. A house with no walls. A giant mountain is the setting of the living room, but somehow we have digital cable, and plenty of sofas. In the kitchen, an exotic woman is cooking. As if we have known eachother for a long time, I rush to her and give her a hug and immediately start helping with the food. My friend, whom none of these people have met, is dressed in a dark blue blazer with a bin on his left lapel. Touting the name of a political candidate, the exotic woman sees him and orders that he will not be allowed in the house. At dusk he will be killed.
Pleading with her, she refuses to comply and says that anyone who supports her opponent in the running is not to be in her house, and certainly she will not let him live out the rest of his days. Somehow, the worry fades away and while she continues readying the feast we go to the living room and watch the Olympics on digital cable. The room is filled with faces unknown to me, but personalities so familiar. Some are speaking Spanish, and my replies in English seem not to phase anyone. We carry on a conversation that in reality would make no sense, but in this dream hold so much weight and genuinity.
I return to the kitchen to try and reason with the chef one more time. I ask her name, thinking that perhaps I would recognize it if she is in such a large campaign for office. She tells me her name is Christina - last name unknown. My eyes widen, and I tell her that my name is Christina too. This connection, like any other, brings us to a point of closeness. I tell her about my friend and that he doesn’t support the opponent. I tell her about the feast we encountered on the way to the house, and that he found that pin while we were running through the ruins. She laughs and immediately understands. She also give us many kudos for taking the food from the patio. As it turns out, the fried breakfast foods were there for the opponent’s luncheon that was to be held that afternoon. She calls my friend in to the kitchen and explains everything. She feeds us well, and we continue tot he living room.
As it turns out, we are in Mexico. My cell phone doesn’t have service and this worries me because yesterday at my dance studio I sold several tickets and forgot to record them in the log book. I need to borrow someone’s calling card to tell my mother, but everyone’s calling card is maxed out. It’s only Friday, and we aren’t scheduled to go home until Tuesday. I can’t wait this long, so I decide that I will return home on foot tomorrow morning.
Everyone keeps telling me that going back on foot would take longer than just waiting until Tuesday. But strangely, I can’t remember how I got there. My only option was to let my feet take me where they would on a journey back home.