Identity crisis

My first name is very common, and my full name is somewhat common. Years ago I was picking through stacks of family photo albums and my partially filled in baby book, and came across my parents’ list of potential names for me. It was a bizarre moment to realize that I could have been saddled with a completely different name, and I wish I still had that list.

I am kind of excited for the day when I meet someone with my name – it’s bound to happen sometime. Every now and then I search my name, out of curiosity. Are the other “me”s doing anything interesting? Have I popped up on more hits, or have I slipped down? Any new historical information about people with my name from the 1800s?

And then tonight, I decide to search myself on pipl where you can search by username in addition to full name. I assume that I make up a majority of the hits but, holy crap, there’s still a lot of others sprinkled in. Perhaps I’ll find some long-forgotten account on an equally long-forgotten website.

Three months in photos, part I

So what have I been doing in the last three months? Well…


I went to see the Roadside Graves & the Rural Alberta Advantage. The concert was outside at the Memorial Union which meant that it was free, and I could watch from behind the stage. I was captivated by the stage lights hitting the grass; it looked like stained glass.

Chicago style hot dog  Buffalo sausage

Later on, I went to Chicago, where I waited for over an hour for a pair of amazing hot dogs at Hot Doug’s…


…saw Nine Inch Nails at the Aragon ballroom….


…and had drinks at Hopleaf. Only one drink & a taste of Sarasola for me.

Cupcakes Cupcakes

I also tried out the new (and only) cupcake shop in town. One to go, off to visit my grandmother who wiggled her bright red toenails at me from her bed in hospice.


And then later that week my grandmother died. At her funeral, I had her favorite drink in her honor. Shown with my fingernails painted red.


Through some sort of mystical trickery (or just plain dedication), I have somehow managed to go through my backlog of photos up to the current date. That’s right – for as long as I can remember, I’ve been a minimum of a month behind on photos. But as of today, I am up to date. It’s a weird feeling.


I’m not sure what it says about me that I normally spend eons picking at code to redesign my blog, or even just to add a new aspect to my sidebar..but then one night after several mojitos, I nail a widget in two tries.

Clearly tomorrow I should drink and redesign, and stick with whatever appears.

Small goals

1. Let my hair dry from the breeze in my car.
2. Eat a brat. Ate one already, but I will need a second sometime this weekend.
3. Edit photos.
4. Enjoy three days of back to back (to back?) lack of “have tos” and “should dos” and focus on the “want tos.”

Oh yeah.

Hey, did you know – I have a blog? And I used to update it a lot – several times a week, sometimes even several times a day if I was bored. I know this because awhile back I stumbled across a downloaded copy of my old archives. And, christ, I posted a lot. Mainly weird observations, or random thoughts. Now if I have those, I just tweet* it. Which is fun to say, (tweet!) but kind of sad for my blog.

Now I’m imagining what it would be like if my blog had emotions. This is a little weird, moving on.

Hey, did you also know that I have a top-secret blog? Probably not, it’s top secret. It’s also kind of mean of me to tell you, since there’s no link included. And even if you did manage to beat the link out of me, you couldn’t see anything since it’s password-protected. And half the time I can’t even remember the password, so, you know. Anyways, it’s just letters I wrote once upon a time, on those nights when it’s late and I’m tossing and turning in bed because there’s THINGS running through my mind. (I think average post time is 4 am.) I am aware that a journal would also be good for these occasions, and I have tried it, but sometimes a girl just likes to type in her beloved Georgia font.

Anyways, I was musing on way too many things all night, with my head all foggy and stuck in multiple years, so I decided to go check out the ol’ secret blog. Its most recent entry was June 2006, and was a letter to myself. It’s kind of strange to see words you’ve written, intensely personal words and phrases, spaced out so nicely upon a screen. It’s a little vexing when you can no longer remember some of the personal code.  

But it definitely sucks to realize that you were a better writer in the past. So. Blog-ahoy?

*Once I made the mistake of calling them “twits.” I know that’s not what other people call them, but it was fun to say. I got a lot of responses correcting me, so now I am careful to use the twitter-acceptable noun/verb only. Also, I appreciate a word that can be both a noun and a verb. That’s why I like Wade. (Among other reasons, I guess. Heh.)

Let the train whistle cry for you

I love trains. Love the sound they make as they trundle down their tracks, love the long wistful whistle that pierces silent winter nights, and I love the way tracks criss-cross each other across town.


This love kept me sane in my old apartment, the one where the tracks passed not far from my bedroom window. It was spring when I first moved in, so I slept with the window open to enjoy the breeze (and to be able to use my down comforter as long as possible.) The first few nights I was roused at 4am by the rushing of a train. I have vague half-memories of sighing and mumbling about trains, before nodding back off. But after those first few nights, the train never woke me again. (This may have more to do with my freakish ability to stay asleep than my love of trains.)

Waiting on a train

I’m rarely irritated when I get stuck in traffic waiting for a train to pass. I was saddened when Madison passed a train whistle ban, and elated that it seems to have been lifted. I say seems to be, because though I never read about it being lifted, at my new apartment (also with a set of tracks only a few blocks away) I intermittently hear the whistle of a passing train. It doesn’t wake me or startle me, it only makes me smile.

Santa Fe

Despite all this, I’ve only ever ridden on a train once. My lone trip was heading from Kharkov to Kiev on an overnight sleeper train in a car full of Ukrainians, Colette, and myself. I have no photos of that portion of the trip, and I don’t think anyone knows how much that really pains me. I think this love of trains is the driving force behind my fascination with subway/light rail systems – Chicago, New York, St. Louis, Paris, London – love them all.

Insert string of expletives here

Last week I studiously avoided opening the cruel email forward – the subject line was more than clarifying enough to keep me well at bay. Somehow I managed to be blissfully unaware of the horrifying news that was behind that forward.

And then I decided to watch an episode of The Daily Show from last week. And saw the horrifying, horrifying, horrifying video about GIANT SNAKES ON THE LOOSE IN FLORIDA. And some googling-whilst-squinting led me to the realization that I will never, ever, ever, never, ever go to Florida again. Ever. 


On January first I posted that I was trying my hand at Project 365. That post was primarily to remind myself — I sort of expected to take photos for a week and then remember sometime in April that, oh, hey, I was doing that.

Imagine my surprise when the days added up, one by one, until it’s today, and I have a photo for every day. Sure, a lot of them are uninspired spur of the moment shots where I realize that the day’s running out and I’ve nearly forgot. There are the days where I do nothing but work and go home, and it’s dark outside, etc.

But little by little, I’m getting better. I’ve caught photos that I wouldn’t normally have taken – because I wouldn’t have had my camera with me, or because I wouldn’t have been ballsy enough to just go ahead and take it already. And now that Daylight Savings (otherwise known as the most wonderful invention of humanity) has begun, I’m happily anticipating the extra chances I’ll have to take more photos. I mean, daylight after work? Are you freaking kidding me?

I leave you with day sixty-seven, otherwise known as March 8th, the day after my birthday. Where it snowed mere days after a warm stretch.

Sudden Snow

Around the bend

My mind has been mush, lately. I blame the month of February for why my thoughts haven’t been coming out right.  I have several unpublished posts that I keep pecking away at, but now matter how often I reorganize, add or subtract, the words won’t fit in the right order to mean what they should.

Hopefully my head gets straightened out soon.  I have high hopes – we finally got a decent dose of snow, I’m headed out to NYC this Thursday, and March is right around the corner. Perhaps a change of scenery and calendar dates will be enough to shake off this unease.

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