My new women's team is really taking off. Brooklyn's Women's Team Frisbee had tryouts this weekend and announced a roster of 18. There will be 9 more players added through June. We will be a pretty young team. It should be a lot of fun and also a lot of work I cannot really believe I signed myself up for.
Beacon High School Girls Ultimate is pretty much wrapped up for the year. I survived the trip to Vermont. I drove 14 hours in 3 days in a giant SUV packed with screaming girls. It was pretty much hell. We all slept on the floor together in our host house. There is no predator as vicious as a high school girl. The girls actually did pretty well, finishing 7th in the tourney and 8th in spirit. 7th out of 10 might not sound so great, but they beat their cross town rivals from Stuyvesant for the first time in years. They all seemed to have a tolerably good time, though you'd never know it from their permanent scowls.
I recently finished Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, and of course it was incredible. That's all I can really say. I love the chapters by each character, the changing point of view. I especially love the chapters from Vardaman the 7 year old son. Faulkner had a lot of courage. I could never write something that leaves so much out at the beginning, that requires the reader to work so hard. I would be afraid of readers giving up or missing my point. (Of course it goes without saying that I could never write anything like Faulkner could write, but I'm specifically pointing to this one aspect of his writing, which is this deliberate and bold choice to slowly dribble the details through a murky filter, heightening the suspense.) Five Stars.
Other news:
Well, I gave blood again. My hemoglobin is still low, but I found a guy with a broken meter!
I am pretty amped about the NBA finals: Celtics/Lakers. Go Rondo!
I am looking forward to the world cup as well. Should be alright.
Went out to the Frying Pan for Tim Barbie Dahl's birthday, which was a great time.
Showing posts with label blood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blood. Show all posts
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Poor Man's Space Camp
Only in Brooklyn: In my lap around Prospect Park today I saw I guy jogging with a pit bull. It was 25 degrees out and pit bulls have short, sleek coats. Instead of a more traditional doggie jacket, the pit bull was wearing a Mike Vick Falcons jersey. I guess he is a big fan. Woof! (I am almost always with Leroy, but I don’t run with him, or I’d have a photo.)
I had started my run HATING the October Courtney that wouldn’t commit to Kaimana. Why am I not in Hawaii right now?!?!?!?! Seeing the Mike Vick dog took some of the edge off.
I gave blood today. All the snowstorms have canceled scheduled drives and reduced walk in donations, creating quite a shortage. Be sure to make an appointment and give soon!
On loving 55s: I have such an affinity for people wearing my number. I am just sitting around and Xavier is on the TV. I am only half-way paying attention and suddenly I cheering for developing a sports crush on Jordan Crawford every time he drives the lane (about half the Musketeers possessions.)
Last night I watched the Hurt Locker, which is getting a lot of the Oscar buzz. I felt a little beat over the head by the heavy-handed message. (Spoiler Alert? I don’t think I’m giving anything away that isn’t in the preview…) Every single scene tells us that the inherent risk in his work has made the highly effective James a cavalier cowboy. The dark, brooding bomb-specialist can’t get the adrenaline rush he needs from anything but the high-pressure situations of defusing IEDs. His addiction ruins him for civilian life and endangers his fellow soldiers. Maybe it was all the hype, but I feel a little let down. The subject of the Iraq with and all the hardships and chaos seems like fertile ground for incredible drama and this was more of a weak sauce 24. For me, Hurt Locker never approached the drama of the climactic scene in Space Camp where we all watch nervously to see if the teens will trust Rudy to correctly rewire the circuit.
Yes, I am posting more than usual lately. I’m procrastinating my next sports blog post for the Stranger. I don’t feel guilty because I’m at my laptop, ‘working on it’. See?
I had started my run HATING the October Courtney that wouldn’t commit to Kaimana. Why am I not in Hawaii right now?!?!?!?! Seeing the Mike Vick dog took some of the edge off.
I gave blood today. All the snowstorms have canceled scheduled drives and reduced walk in donations, creating quite a shortage. Be sure to make an appointment and give soon!
On loving 55s: I have such an affinity for people wearing my number. I am just sitting around and Xavier is on the TV. I am only half-way paying attention and suddenly I cheering for developing a sports crush on Jordan Crawford every time he drives the lane (about half the Musketeers possessions.)
Last night I watched the Hurt Locker, which is getting a lot of the Oscar buzz. I felt a little beat over the head by the heavy-handed message. (Spoiler Alert? I don’t think I’m giving anything away that isn’t in the preview…) Every single scene tells us that the inherent risk in his work has made the highly effective James a cavalier cowboy. The dark, brooding bomb-specialist can’t get the adrenaline rush he needs from anything but the high-pressure situations of defusing IEDs. His addiction ruins him for civilian life and endangers his fellow soldiers. Maybe it was all the hype, but I feel a little let down. The subject of the Iraq with and all the hardships and chaos seems like fertile ground for incredible drama and this was more of a weak sauce 24. For me, Hurt Locker never approached the drama of the climactic scene in Space Camp where we all watch nervously to see if the teens will trust Rudy to correctly rewire the circuit.
Yes, I am posting more than usual lately. I’m procrastinating my next sports blog post for the Stranger. I don’t feel guilty because I’m at my laptop, ‘working on it’. See?
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
I could be the Jane Goodall of pigeons…
So much more happens in my life when I get to work in town for a few days. It is great to be home in NYC.
I went to see The Wrestler (Aronofsky's new film) last night. Though it seems to draw its inspiration from the 1999 documentary, Beyond the Mat it somehow makes the story more real, by turning it into fiction. The film is intense. I had to watch several scenes through parted fingers with my hands pressed over my eyes. I would strongly recommend the film. The set and so many tiny costume details nail the desperate mood perfectly. Look for the duct tape patches on his vest to increase throughout the film. The van and trailer are depressing enough in a single shot to capture the mood of the entire film. (Todd Berry, who I once accidentally bought a beer for and subsequently, took said beer away from, turns in a spot-on performance of a prick supervisor.) I think you pretty much know the plot if you’ve seen a single trailer, and I won’t give anything more away, but I found Randy/Robin to be everyman, struggling to make our way in the world as who we wish we were, while being confronted at every turn with who we actually are, and while we wait for whatever means we use of earning a living to destroy us and leave us broken and hopeless. Merry Christmas.
In other news, I gave blood yesterday. Don’t forget to make an appointment as blood banks need you this time of year more than any other. I wanted to ask the Phlebotomist about the training course he’d had taken to be certified to draw blood in New York State (It’s a three week course that you can complete in 3 consecutive weekends and I’m considering as a test to gather some input about myself as to whether I could survive nursing school) but I thought he might mistake my curiosity about the course as concerns about his proficiency and I didn’t want to pry or seem rude while he had a huge needle in my arm.
Also draining my very lifeblood these days: the Philadelphia Eagles. I am actually jealous of Detroit Lions fans. At least they knew what was happening early on and didn’t waste all season to have their heart broken by a team that could only muster 3 points in a game against the anemic Redskins with the entire season on the line. The game made me sick. I guess we just don’t deserve to go the playoffs. I don’t know what my second team will be; I’ll hope the playoffs are just cancelled, like the year baseball went on strike. If that doesn’t workout, it’s likely that I’ll throw my support behind anyone playing the New York Gnats.
After that terrible Eagle loss, where they teased out hope until the very last second, I did not drown my sorrows, as would typically be my custom. I’m conducting a little experiment to take 31 days off from drinking. A search of this blog for the keyword ‘hangover’ yields 10 hits, and there are certainly others I haven’t even felt well enough to whine about, which is probably a bit more than recommended. To see if things are better sans hangover, I’m taking a 31 day hiatus from alcohol. I’m 16 days in and so far, so good. No major revelations or changes. One thing I have learned is that what I thought was being ‘hungover’ is actually the sensation of ‘waking up’. I wake up with a headache and a stomach ache every day. I think my body has an adverse reaction to morning. And to beeping. I hate beeping.
Not sure if this is a side effect from the ‘break’ or if I was briefly possessed by an alien life form, but I made soup the other day. A whole pot of it. Celery. Tomatoes. Carrots. Corn. Garlic. Pasta. Oregano. It was good. I don’t expect it to happen again.
Those of you who know me, know one of my favorite features of my beloved apartment is ‘Shit Mountain’. Two pigeon nests outside a window near my apartment that appear to have been built up out of decades of piled up pigeon waste. No other nesting material is visible. What an innovative use of materials to build a safe place to rear your young! I check the nests every day when I go in and out of the apartment. I’ve seen many generations hatch. I have never before seen what is happening now. There seems to be a perished pigeon on the right side of the ‘duplex’. He’s been slumped over, head hanging down low for days now. Maybe he got into some rat baited food and flew home before the poison kicked in. What I find so strange is that other pigeons seem to come and go from the ‘nest’ with little regard of this apparent detail. You would think they might find settling in next to a corpse, well... unsettling, but they don’t seem bothered at all. I’m excited about seeing this other end of the life cycle, since I’ve seen the beginning of the story so many times. I’m curious what will become of the dead pigeon. From where he is, wind wouldn’t blow him out, so it’s fairly likely he’ll just be absorbed into the nest and the next generation will hatch literally on top of him!
A quick check of the New York City weather tells me this: It’s presently 30 degrees and the High for today is 29, the Low is 26. Tomorrow’s projected low is 40, with a projected high of 49. Can anyone tell me how this is possible? If it’s 30 now, shouldn’t the high for today be at least 30? And if the high for today is 30 and the low for tomorrow is 40, then is the temperature going to jump from 30 to 40 at 12:01 AM? This infuriates me. Get it straight meteorologist!
Tomorrow I fly to Raleigh to see the nieces, my parents, sister and brother-in-law. Here’s hoping we have an ambulance free holiday (for once). Deck the Halls.
I went to see The Wrestler (Aronofsky's new film) last night. Though it seems to draw its inspiration from the 1999 documentary, Beyond the Mat it somehow makes the story more real, by turning it into fiction. The film is intense. I had to watch several scenes through parted fingers with my hands pressed over my eyes. I would strongly recommend the film. The set and so many tiny costume details nail the desperate mood perfectly. Look for the duct tape patches on his vest to increase throughout the film. The van and trailer are depressing enough in a single shot to capture the mood of the entire film. (Todd Berry, who I once accidentally bought a beer for and subsequently, took said beer away from, turns in a spot-on performance of a prick supervisor.) I think you pretty much know the plot if you’ve seen a single trailer, and I won’t give anything more away, but I found Randy/Robin to be everyman, struggling to make our way in the world as who we wish we were, while being confronted at every turn with who we actually are, and while we wait for whatever means we use of earning a living to destroy us and leave us broken and hopeless. Merry Christmas.
In other news, I gave blood yesterday. Don’t forget to make an appointment as blood banks need you this time of year more than any other. I wanted to ask the Phlebotomist about the training course he’d had taken to be certified to draw blood in New York State (It’s a three week course that you can complete in 3 consecutive weekends and I’m considering as a test to gather some input about myself as to whether I could survive nursing school) but I thought he might mistake my curiosity about the course as concerns about his proficiency and I didn’t want to pry or seem rude while he had a huge needle in my arm.
Also draining my very lifeblood these days: the Philadelphia Eagles. I am actually jealous of Detroit Lions fans. At least they knew what was happening early on and didn’t waste all season to have their heart broken by a team that could only muster 3 points in a game against the anemic Redskins with the entire season on the line. The game made me sick. I guess we just don’t deserve to go the playoffs. I don’t know what my second team will be; I’ll hope the playoffs are just cancelled, like the year baseball went on strike. If that doesn’t workout, it’s likely that I’ll throw my support behind anyone playing the New York Gnats.
After that terrible Eagle loss, where they teased out hope until the very last second, I did not drown my sorrows, as would typically be my custom. I’m conducting a little experiment to take 31 days off from drinking. A search of this blog for the keyword ‘hangover’ yields 10 hits, and there are certainly others I haven’t even felt well enough to whine about, which is probably a bit more than recommended. To see if things are better sans hangover, I’m taking a 31 day hiatus from alcohol. I’m 16 days in and so far, so good. No major revelations or changes. One thing I have learned is that what I thought was being ‘hungover’ is actually the sensation of ‘waking up’. I wake up with a headache and a stomach ache every day. I think my body has an adverse reaction to morning. And to beeping. I hate beeping.
Not sure if this is a side effect from the ‘break’ or if I was briefly possessed by an alien life form, but I made soup the other day. A whole pot of it. Celery. Tomatoes. Carrots. Corn. Garlic. Pasta. Oregano. It was good. I don’t expect it to happen again.
Those of you who know me, know one of my favorite features of my beloved apartment is ‘Shit Mountain’. Two pigeon nests outside a window near my apartment that appear to have been built up out of decades of piled up pigeon waste. No other nesting material is visible. What an innovative use of materials to build a safe place to rear your young! I check the nests every day when I go in and out of the apartment. I’ve seen many generations hatch. I have never before seen what is happening now. There seems to be a perished pigeon on the right side of the ‘duplex’. He’s been slumped over, head hanging down low for days now. Maybe he got into some rat baited food and flew home before the poison kicked in. What I find so strange is that other pigeons seem to come and go from the ‘nest’ with little regard of this apparent detail. You would think they might find settling in next to a corpse, well... unsettling, but they don’t seem bothered at all. I’m excited about seeing this other end of the life cycle, since I’ve seen the beginning of the story so many times. I’m curious what will become of the dead pigeon. From where he is, wind wouldn’t blow him out, so it’s fairly likely he’ll just be absorbed into the nest and the next generation will hatch literally on top of him!
A quick check of the New York City weather tells me this: It’s presently 30 degrees and the High for today is 29, the Low is 26. Tomorrow’s projected low is 40, with a projected high of 49. Can anyone tell me how this is possible? If it’s 30 now, shouldn’t the high for today be at least 30? And if the high for today is 30 and the low for tomorrow is 40, then is the temperature going to jump from 30 to 40 at 12:01 AM? This infuriates me. Get it straight meteorologist!
Tomorrow I fly to Raleigh to see the nieces, my parents, sister and brother-in-law. Here’s hoping we have an ambulance free holiday (for once). Deck the Halls.
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