Biking back from seeing Ian's new apartment, as unicycle passed me the other way and said,
"Nice training wheel."
Getting made fun of by a unicyclist on monday, makes me curious to see how the rest of the week plays out.
25 August 2008
23 August 2008
J and K's big day - Here's the best man toast:
Obviously, a big part of Jesse and Kyla's relationship is language - the technique and exploration of a foreign tongue, so to speak. They’re both so impressive. Jesse’s language skills are what I admire most him – his dedication, almost obsession.
Before he left for China, we were living here, and I'd hear him in the kitchen, repeating words over and over, to try and get the tones just right. He had a stack of flash cards as tall as eight takeout boxes, always practicing.
So for this toast, I was wondering when Jesse developed this passion. What would make him spend hours to get the words right? Where did this desire for mastering a languages come from? I'm pretty confident it began on Dis on Desse Day.
Today is not Dis on Desse Day. In fact, today is probably the furthest away Jesse has ever been from Dis on Desse Day. It was the height of his frustration experienced with the worst possible cast: mom, dad, me, and his best friend Joel Ford.
It was April, and Jesse was around 16. We were returning to Wayland after a weeklong stay in Florida with our grandma. In the evening, after driving all day in a cramped mini-van packed with luggage and damp towels, we finally stopped for dinner.
We were all tired and grumpy. Vacation was over. Anyone who's spent time with Jesse between meals knows he was at his crankiest. And, as any younger brother can tell you, this is the prime time to really lay it on. I can't remember exactly what mom, dad, Joel, and I were harping on, but Jesse was fed up. Just really ripping at him. Maybe being too far south of the Mason-Dixon was giving him a strange accent. Maybe the road trip snacks of munchos and slim-jims had nestled in the anterior cortex of his brain. Who knows. We'd barely been seated at the table when Jesse snapped.
"What is this, 'Dis on Desse Day'?"
And instantly, yes, it was. Jesse bolted out of the restaurant almost in tears, choking with frustration, and we were just laughing, almost choking as well. Looking back on it now, I'm thinking this is exactly the sort of mental scarring that would give Jesse that extra eagerness to learn another language and get the hell away from us.
Now, I'm not sure how to say Dis on Desse in chinese, but the reason I tell this story is because in Kyla, Jesse has found another person that fits in our family and knows how to give him a hard time. But Kyla also brings something new to our family, which I noticed the last time my parents and I were in Beijing. Jesse and Kyla were seeing off mom, dad, and me the Beijing airport. And of course, mom was very emotional, and started crying, thinking she's losing her baby boy and she's never going to see him again. Now, Jesse, Dad, and I - the males - have a sort Farm Animal Reaction to these distress signals from mom. We stand there, staring blankly, knowing something is quite right, but thinking more about what we’re going to eat next.
But Kyla acted differently. She saw mom was really torn up, and Kyla went right in for a hug. She told her, "I'll take care of your son," and "Everything is going to be Okay." Kyla was so maternal and loving, and so different from our male response to mom. From then on I felt as if she was already part of our family.
Now Kyla is part of our family, So I'd like to toast: to Jesse and Kyla, for finding each other through whatever language, may you have a long happy marriage.
Before he left for China, we were living here, and I'd hear him in the kitchen, repeating words over and over, to try and get the tones just right. He had a stack of flash cards as tall as eight takeout boxes, always practicing.
So for this toast, I was wondering when Jesse developed this passion. What would make him spend hours to get the words right? Where did this desire for mastering a languages come from? I'm pretty confident it began on Dis on Desse Day.
Today is not Dis on Desse Day. In fact, today is probably the furthest away Jesse has ever been from Dis on Desse Day. It was the height of his frustration experienced with the worst possible cast: mom, dad, me, and his best friend Joel Ford.
It was April, and Jesse was around 16. We were returning to Wayland after a weeklong stay in Florida with our grandma. In the evening, after driving all day in a cramped mini-van packed with luggage and damp towels, we finally stopped for dinner.
We were all tired and grumpy. Vacation was over. Anyone who's spent time with Jesse between meals knows he was at his crankiest. And, as any younger brother can tell you, this is the prime time to really lay it on. I can't remember exactly what mom, dad, Joel, and I were harping on, but Jesse was fed up. Just really ripping at him. Maybe being too far south of the Mason-Dixon was giving him a strange accent. Maybe the road trip snacks of munchos and slim-jims had nestled in the anterior cortex of his brain. Who knows. We'd barely been seated at the table when Jesse snapped.
"What is this, 'Dis on Desse Day'?"
And instantly, yes, it was. Jesse bolted out of the restaurant almost in tears, choking with frustration, and we were just laughing, almost choking as well. Looking back on it now, I'm thinking this is exactly the sort of mental scarring that would give Jesse that extra eagerness to learn another language and get the hell away from us.
Now, I'm not sure how to say Dis on Desse in chinese, but the reason I tell this story is because in Kyla, Jesse has found another person that fits in our family and knows how to give him a hard time. But Kyla also brings something new to our family, which I noticed the last time my parents and I were in Beijing. Jesse and Kyla were seeing off mom, dad, and me the Beijing airport. And of course, mom was very emotional, and started crying, thinking she's losing her baby boy and she's never going to see him again. Now, Jesse, Dad, and I - the males - have a sort Farm Animal Reaction to these distress signals from mom. We stand there, staring blankly, knowing something is quite right, but thinking more about what we’re going to eat next.
But Kyla acted differently. She saw mom was really torn up, and Kyla went right in for a hug. She told her, "I'll take care of your son," and "Everything is going to be Okay." Kyla was so maternal and loving, and so different from our male response to mom. From then on I felt as if she was already part of our family.
Now Kyla is part of our family, So I'd like to toast: to Jesse and Kyla, for finding each other through whatever language, may you have a long happy marriage.
19 August 2008
Everything that happens will only happen today again if you're not still at the airport
Brian Eno and David Byrne, at it again. I guess they worked on the album pretty separately, through over the Internet and such. The free single is pretty sweet. I haven't gotten the album yet.
18 August 2008
at the airport
For the past 10 days, I've been on the west coast, exploring LA (la la land) and SF. My flight was canceled on the way out, and now, my flight is canceled heading east. Rescheduled 10 hours later, I've had ample to time to explore Terminal 3 at the San Francisco Airport. Only one truth holds to be self-evident: airports are boring.
Working here must be the worst. I had so much time, I waited until the security was empty. EMPTY. I took off my shoes at my own pace. I even dumped my change into one of the big bins instead of the smaller designed for loose change. I then returned to ticketing to check a bag that had a multi-tool, which made it through security from LAX to SFO. Back through the empty security line. At a rate of one traveler every minute, the three TSA workers could almost keep up with the flow of luggage bins.
I keep thinking of the Harvey Danger lyric, "if you're bored, then you're boring." I used to think this implied you should always be able to entertain yourself, even in dire straits. After reading all the dining option menus fully, and eating, fully, I've found an even simpler solution, than self-entertainment - shut your mind off. Of course, this doesn't come naturally to all. Fortunately, I could from a breed of men that have been mistaken (maybe) as mentally challenged at least once. The slack-jaw, drool-drip, black stare limits the amount and texture of conversation that any strangers may try to ignite. If they approach you at all, it will be with a harmless question, spoken slowly, deliberately audible:
"are... you... lost?"
I've always thought of conversations with strangers on the same level of those daddy long-leg flying insects. You only squash the ones that try and suck something from you. Let the others keep bumping the white ceiling of your mind, or shoo them out the screen door, back to the darkness.
"do you need help?"
They're useless questions, and only the oblivious don't already know the answer: of course, I'm lost, lady. Of course I need help. I've been in an airport for 10 hours. But, there's no need to actually respond. I simply suck the escaping saliva back into my mouth.
Working here must be the worst. I had so much time, I waited until the security was empty. EMPTY. I took off my shoes at my own pace. I even dumped my change into one of the big bins instead of the smaller designed for loose change. I then returned to ticketing to check a bag that had a multi-tool, which made it through security from LAX to SFO. Back through the empty security line. At a rate of one traveler every minute, the three TSA workers could almost keep up with the flow of luggage bins.
I keep thinking of the Harvey Danger lyric, "if you're bored, then you're boring." I used to think this implied you should always be able to entertain yourself, even in dire straits. After reading all the dining option menus fully, and eating, fully, I've found an even simpler solution, than self-entertainment - shut your mind off. Of course, this doesn't come naturally to all. Fortunately, I could from a breed of men that have been mistaken (maybe) as mentally challenged at least once. The slack-jaw, drool-drip, black stare limits the amount and texture of conversation that any strangers may try to ignite. If they approach you at all, it will be with a harmless question, spoken slowly, deliberately audible:
"are... you... lost?"
I've always thought of conversations with strangers on the same level of those daddy long-leg flying insects. You only squash the ones that try and suck something from you. Let the others keep bumping the white ceiling of your mind, or shoo them out the screen door, back to the darkness.
"do you need help?"
They're useless questions, and only the oblivious don't already know the answer: of course, I'm lost, lady. Of course I need help. I've been in an airport for 10 hours. But, there's no need to actually respond. I simply suck the escaping saliva back into my mouth.
Multimedia about rowing
Some guy (Ned Brown) put together a multimedia site about the BU Men's rowing team while I was a senior. Good slideshow, though I think my only clip is about breakfast.
http://www.nedworksmedia.com/BUcrew/home.html
http://www.nedworksmedia.com/BUcrew/home.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
