The parents visit us

My parents are on their way to Milwaukee as I write this. I love seeing my parents and spending time with them, but I don’t think I have been this excited to see them in a while. I have so much to share with them. Kate and I have so much to share with them. There is a lot of catching up to do in the next five days.

I hope when they leave all of us feel a bit refreshed, a bit more in touch with a little slice of home as we left it in Colorado and Wyoming, and a bit more comfortable with our new home in Wisconsin. I also hope that it is enough to tide us over until the next visit because I know that is a while away.

I am really grateful right now to have parents on both sides of the family that are excited and willing to travel anywhere to see us. Yeah, Milwaukee isn’t London, they aren’t flying across an ocean for us, but they are flying. They care. They love. And they are almost here.

I’ll be back on Sunday, if not, then at random times before then.

V-O-D-K-A

I upload this shot because it is of a gigantic bottle of vodka, not just any vodka, but vodka from Costco. You can see the brand at the top, Kirkland Signature.

Yep, Kate and I have a Costco membership now. I guess I have a little soft spot for Costco. My first trips there were with my grandparents in the Valley. I would usually visit them for weeks in the summer and one of the first things we would do when I got there was to go to the local Costco. I remember them buying pretty much anything I said I wanted while we were in the store. Huge jars of pickles. A few years supply of Skittles. And a barrel of my favorite cereal.

When Kate and I walked into a Costco in the north Milwaukee suburbs it was like taking a little trip back in time. I don't think I had been into one since I had gone last with my grandparents in California.

I noticed some things had changed. I was now paying for everything we put in the shopping cart which, by the way, could hold a small family. Because I now have to pay for anything I want, the cart was less full when it came time to check out. I could now take advantage of Costco's luxurious liquor section with a wide selection of vodka, tequila, wine, and spirits in bottles the size of my femur. The vodka bottle pictured is almost two feet tall. And, instead of throwing everything in the cart that I liked I had to police Kate a little. You see, Kate has an affinity for Costco. Her family drives almost three hours to the Costco in Salt Lake City every month or couple of months. When they go they get it done by dropping hundreds of dollars on butter, ground beef, cheese, scallops, shrimp, tubs of garlic, dog food, bacon, a dog tent, good beer for drinking, cheap beer for cooking, and maybe a couple packs of underwear. When they get home, nearly all of it goes into their deep freeze.

We don't have a deep freeze. We have limited storage space. We have limited resources, but I am happy we made it out of there with the first bottle of liquor we've bought since being here.

Family Guy does Star Wars

Quick, before they are taken off of YouTube, check out Family Guy's Star Wars episode. It was an incredibly smart spoof of one of my favorite movies. Here is part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Ahmadinejad Transcript

Mr. Andrew Sullivan has posted a link to the transcripts. Go through his blog to get them. Here is a segment:

MR. ZREMSKI: Yes. Okay, great.

We have many, many questions, starting with this, which directly relates to your speech. How important do you think that the worldwide spread of Islam is to creating the sublime and beautiful world that you envision? And is there room for other religions?

PRESIDENT AHMADINEJAD: We think that all religions and all divine religions have the same message. They all come from the same place. They have several clear messages: to invite man to worship God, which is the root of all goodness; to invite man to justice, which guarantees love, friendship and viable security; to invite man to dignity and to respect of mankind; to invite man to love the rest of mankind.

These messages are set in the religion of Christ -- of Moses and Christ as well as the holy passage of Islam. These prophets have all given the same messages. They never had differences in that respect. There was never a conflict there because their root goes back to the same -- (word inaudible) -- and their message was the same as well.

MR. ZREMSKI: Does that mean there is room for Christianity --

PRESIDENT AHMADINEJAD: They all believe in beauty and goodness --

MR. ZREMSKI: -- (off mike) -- that you're describing?

PRESIDENT AHMADINEJAD: They're all brothers. They all want the same thing, justice and friendship, and this is the common ground for all religions. True pious people have no differences with other --

MR. ZREMSKI: Yes, but do those religions have a place in the world you described?

PRESIDENT AHMADINEJAD: They're all human beings and followers of different religions, and all of their views should be respected. We should all build a prosperous community together, and we must all move hand in hand. This is a responsibility for all.

If you missed the question and answer session with Ahmadinejad you didn't miss much. He couldn't directly answer any questions. Most of his answers just made me want to powerbomb the guy.

Columbia's President Introduces Ahmadinejad

Ahmadinejad is a nut, that's why I was surprised at Bollinger's attacks, given the guy is sitting across the stage from him. I found Bollinger's comments greatly entertaining and inspiring.

Some favorites, "you exhibit all the signs of a petty and cruel dictator."

Speaking about the Holocaust Deniers Convention hosted by Ahmadinejad "for the illiterate and the ignorant, this is dangerous propaganda. When you have come to a place like this, this makes you, quite simply, ridiculous. You are either brazenly provocative or astonishingly uneducated."

And Ahmadinejad's claim that "we [Iran] don't have this phenomenon [homosexuality]" was one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard from a world leader's mouth. I am really glad students laughed at him.

For the most part, Ahmadinejad avoided all attacks and questions with deeply religious propaganda that didn't go anywhere near addressing the real issue, his dictatorship, hatred, disobedience, and ignorance.

30 Hours of Work

There is something funny about working someplace for only four days. I never thought I would quit something so quickly, but I did. After four days of stocking shelves, beautifying my favorite author’s shelves, and helping customers find the erotic fiction anthologies, I quit Borders.

I love books. My favorite part of the Borders job was getting to touch so many fresh books. I love the feel of the finely cut pages, the feel of the texture on the covers, the smell, and the designs of them all, but that doesn’t mean I love selling them. Although Borders and I are good friends, and we have been for a while, it is better that we part ways and only come back together intermittently when I want to peruse its shelves and buy, buy, buy.

During my brief tenure at Borders, the idea of working at the Bucks kept sounding a little better, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t romanticizing a job that I remember disliking a decent amount of. I got in touch with the closest Bucks, which happens to be within walking distance, and I will likely start work there on the 1^st.

I weighed the pros and cons of working at Borders versus working at the Bucks. It was sort of a depressing activity but the Bucks won in 9 of 12 categories. Ouch.

Also, I got a call last week about a connection here that could really turn into something positive and exciting. I have a meeting scheduled on October 2 to look into that opportunity.

And, worthy of mention, I got my first freelance writing assignment ever. It’s a start, and it excites me.

The "a"

Some of you might have noticed the blog below this one titled "a". I was in an Apple store today. I was trying to write a very short blog on an iPod Touch. I only got so far before the thing wigged out on me. I didn't think it even posted. Well it did, and it's pathetic.

a

Writing a novel in a month

I really like this idea. I first heard about it here. The goal is to write a 50,000-word novel in the month of November. To do it, you would have to write an average of 1,666 words a day. It is novel writing with a sense of abandonment, freedom, and carelessness. I don't know much about novel writing, but that seems like a good approach to get the ball rolling. The website is right, there will be a lot of crap written, but it will be written, and that is good.

Sign up on October 1. This is one of the those things that I think is freaking awesome, but might never do for no legitimate reason at all. I might think I don't have the time. The novel will be crap. I couldn't possibly write 1,666 words everyday for a month, at least not words I would feel comfortable about letting the public read. The list goes on. You know the drill. Talk yourself out of another adventure.

Why do they do that?

I noticed a couple of weeks ago that Fox News kept on referring to Osama Bin Laden as Usama Bin Laden. They even write it that way. I did a little research because I had never heard him called Usama before. Sure enough, that is an alternative way of pronouncing the man's name. I am pretty sure they didn't always do this though.

I haven't seen Usama used anywhere else. And, I am confident that they used to refer to him as Osama. Why change now?

Jobs

It has been an interesting couple of days. I am not really enjoying the Borders job as I thought I might. In fact, it’s making the Bucks look good. I don’t know what I am going to do right now, but I may have a different job next week. Who knows?

After a few days in the bookselling business I have come away with some simple observations.

The store I work at has too many copies of Joel Osteen’s book. Not to worry though, he has a new one coming out in October.

Joyce Meyer. Wow. Another big televangelist. She also has 30 books or something like that. I know they take up too much space, so do Max Lucado’s books.

I beautified shelves today. I made the books flush. I faced them out. I alphabetized. I got rid of leaners. I paid particular attention to Bill Bryson’s books. His shelf in the travel section is a thing of beauty. Really. If you are ever here, you should check it out. I also paid a lot of attention to Donald Miller’s shelf. It looks fabulous. I didn’t have to do much to Rob Bell’s books. They were already beautified. I am tempted to turn certain books around or accidentally stock some books right over some ugly covers. I haven’t.

Music sales have been in double-digit decline for the last few years. A manager told me that in five years Borders and stores like it won’t even carry CDs.

This is amazing. Winnie, from The Wonder Years, also known as Danica McKellar, is a math genius. She graduated summa cum laude from UCLA with a mathematics degree. She has written a book promoting women’s mathematical education. She even has a mathematical theory partially named after her.

Books.

On the Job

I realize that I haven’t talked with many of you for a while. I feel you are due for an update on my life via this blog. I am also due for an update on your lives via whatever form of communication most suits you at the time the aforementioned communication is so desired with me.

I took a job last week. Today was my first day at Borders. It was okay. To say the least for now, it was great motivation to look for some other job, and quickly. I filled out some paperwork, stocked shelves, and got a tour of the store guts.

I didn’t know how long I would be there today so I didn’t bring a lunch. I ended up working from 8 to 5 so I did get an hour long lunch break. I walked across a huge parking lot to go into the mall’s food court. I got a one entrée plate that was too expensive. I sat by myself and got depressed about my new found lot in life, only as pertaining to my job.

Everything was making me mad or sad. My hourly pay is despicable. I don’t really like customer service. Food courts are disgusting. The old lady across from me just dropped half her meal from McDonalds on the floor. She uses a walker. That sucks. I felt better for a little while until the smell of the food court got to me. I devoured my China Max dish and decimated my soda, that’s right, 9/10 of my soda was still left in the cup when I threw it out.

I walked across the scorching lot. It was 85 today…apparently very hot for Milwaukee in mid-September.

I got my schedule for the rest of the week. 8 to 5 tomorrow. 8:45 to 5 on Thursday and Friday. Weekend off. My schedule for next week: 8:45 to 5 Monday – Wednesday. Then, I’m off the rest of the week because my parents are coming out on Wednesday night.

We will have an awesome time. Kate is taking Friday off. She also gets the weekend off. We are going to take the train to Chicago and hit up the architecture tour and relax.

Here’s to myself and all of us for never having to eat some China Max for lunch by ourselves in the Southridge Mall in Greendale, Wisconsin. Ever. Again.

Poll Results

There are ten votes in my first poll so far. Even though there are 11 days left to vote, I have a feeling most of the readers of this blog have already voted. Woo hoo for 10 readers. I know for a fact there are some out there that haven’t voted yet. Get on the ball.

Let’s take a quick look at the results. If the election were held today, and only SHOS readers could vote, Obama would be the next President of the United States of America. He has 50% of the vote, while five others have 10% each. The Republicans have two votes. The Dems have the remaining eight.

There are a couple things worth mentioning. That no one voted for Giuliani and Tancredo makes me very happy with all of you. Congratulations. Keep up the good work. Obviously, there are quite a few on the list that I wouldn’t vote for, but at the very least, don’t insult the rest of us with the 9/11 banner boy and well, some dude that dislikes everyone that isn’t in this country that is trying to get here, and those that have successfully immigrated here. You know…like me and you and everyone we know.

Cheesehead Country

So sad. So, very sad. An insert in today's Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.

Sundays in College

I was almost always the first one to wake up. I rose quietly, showered, dressed, and ate breakfast by myself in the typically cold main room of our apartment. My roommates were sleeping in from a late night of sex, drinking, doing nothing, watching movies, or playing video games.

I would usually get a call from Kate when she was five minutes from picking me up. We went to a great church every Sunday called Emmaus Road. It still meets. I am sure it still rocks too.

Depending on how much work I had to do that Sunday, and there was always work, I had a hard time relaxing at church. Often I was so exhausted and dreadful of the long day of studying or writing ahead of me that I couldn’t bring anything to worship. I had very high expectations of this church to give me something, to feed me some thought, God, or something else. I came empty handed every Sunday with a just as exhausted Kate. We loved it.

Kate would drop me off at the apartment. We would say our goodbyes and wish each other good luck with our work. We preferred to get it done and have some time to relax later that night. We usually split at 12:30. I would walk in to find my roommates having a very late breakfast, or for them, an early lunch. The TV would always be on and it was always football. I didn’t mind. I like football.

I would wolf my lunch down and reluctantly take to my room to tackle whatever paper was waiting to be written. Sometimes it was a paper that needed to be finished. Sometimes it was studying. Most of the time it was a paper not even started that was due the next day. It wasn’t uncommon for me to be in my room from 1 to 7:30 working the whole time on a paper.

I would usually come out of the room twice to relieve myself or grab something from the kitchen. Curiously, the TV in the main room would still be on, but my roommates had long retired to their respective corners of the apartment. I would switch the TV off. I sometimes peeked into my roommates’ rooms. On occasion they were studying. More often than not though, they were IM-ing, watching TV, or doing both.

Returning to my room I often was full of rage. I had eight more pages to write and from the looks of it my roommates don’t go to college because they study as much as I did in high school and I didn’t even challenge myself in high school. I really never understood it. I did my best to hide my frustration from them, to refrain from saying something like, “Go study”, “Go read something”, “Are you going to graduate?”, and so on. I had to vent to someone, so Kate got the brunt of my frustration.

Hours later I would emerge victorious, having found a huge string of BS running through “The Cask of Amontillado”. I had woven 15 pages of arguments, persuasion, theory, and reference into an A paper. In these years, my last two at UW, I pretty much left the room every Sunday knowing that I had just written an A paper. After a few weeks of this it was automatic. Breakfast. Church. Lunch. Write. Rage. A lot more writing. Read. Edit. Re-read. Print. Staple. Put paper nicely into a folder for delivery the next morning. Triumphant exit from the room. A quick dinner. A nod to the roomies at their desks or on the couch and out the door to Kate’s apartment. I was a robot, a slightly tormented but efficient, robot.

*My roommates got their degrees and are both very successful in their respective fields. One of my roommates during my last year was much younger than me. He is now a stand out swimmer and will graduate next year.

IF YOU HAVEN'T, VOTE IN THE POLL.

Entry Poll

Blogger has a lot of quirky sidebar additions that I never use, but I have been meaning to try a poll. I don't expect the poll to become a permanent feature of this blog.

So go ahead, answer the question to the right.

Blogger Play

This is a neat thing the Blogger team put together. Read about it here.

See it here.

Expectations precede it

What is it with the coffee shop? Why does Bryce think he can walk in there with a laptop or notebook and think he is a writer?

He always has these expectations for coffee shop writing. Like the atmosphere is going to overload his senses with motivation and ideas for blogs, stories, or books. It never does. He usually walks away with a few pages of ramblings that even with the most meticulous rewording could not be kneaded into a blog, a story, or a book.

There might be a paragraph about the two middle-aged men playing Magic: The Gathering near him. Sentences therein might read something like this: One man, perhaps 45 years-old, is balding, tall, and gangly. He is dressed in casual business attire, but his shoes stand out. They are leathery clogs. His friend is wearing Chacos. He looks granola-ish, and oddly out of place in the Midwest. He wears cutoff jean shorts that are accompanied by a blue tank top. He is topped by a mop of bleached dreadlocks that frame his full beard. A surprisingly pretentious pair of reading glasses rest on a nose that protrudes from his face in a knobby fashion. Green eyes rest in a tanned, weathered face that is twisted in confusion at his opponent’s recent play.

Bryce might dabble in a rant about a barista who is asking everyone if they would like the large for just fifty cents more even though they asked for the medium. He thinks good baristas should shut up and just make the medium as good as a large. He could imagine a conversation with her and write it down.

“Would you like to get the large for just fifty cents more?”

“No! I would not. Do you think I think there is only one size here? I picked the medium for a reason. Do you think that I picked the medium because the fifty cents more for the large is going to put me on food stamps?”

“No I don’t, sir. I’m sorry for the confusion. I was just pointing out…”

“You were just pointing out what? I chose the 16-ounce drink because I wanted the 16-ounce drink.”

Many authors have written books in coffee shops. Or have they? He only remembers reading one author that mentions how he wrote a book in coffee shops and pubs around the Portland area. Why does he think many authors have done the same? Well, this is the place where book lovers go, right? The smell of coffee might do it. He likes it; it reminds him of cracking a fresh book and taking a whiff of the binding. No, he thinks. It must be the music; it’s always there, but it’s always absent in a way. If he doesn’t listen to it, it goes away. If he listens for it, it is there. For these reasons the music is magical, and since the music is in the coffee shop it makes the coffee shop magical. Magical places must inspire, he thinks.

He admires the wood furniture. Aged, scratched, weakened, and creaky, the wood cries out to be made into words. His heart cries out to make the wood into words. A transformation of the coffee shop into words, that is what he wants, but he never gets. The people on the wooden furniture, the purveyors and consumers of the coffee, and the ears listening to the music all distract him from the purity.

Bryce walks away from the coffee shop feeling like it let him down today. He casts a forlorn look into its deep hallows as he drives by and wonders about its potential. Will it ever give him something good? Can it ever give him something good? He wants to return to show that it can be made into words. The chair, the desk, the mug, the wisps of steam, the beans, the walls, the music, the dark, comfy corner…all into words.

*He wrote this at home.

D is for Decimate

decimate.

Literally the word means to reduce by a tenth (from the ancient practice of punishing the mutinous or cowardly by killing every tenth man). By extension it may be used to describe the inflicting of heavy damage, but it should never be used to denote annihilation [oops], as in this memorably excruciating sentence cited by Fowler: “Dick, hotly pursued by the scalp-hunter, turned in his saddle, fired, and literally decimated his opponent.” Equally to be avoided are contexts in which the word’s use is clearly inconsistent with its literal meaning, as in “Frost decimated an estimated 80 percent of the crops.”

- Bryson, Bill. Bryson’s Dictionary of Troublesome Words. New York: Broadway Books, 2002. [Brackets mine].

Today, during my reading of this fabulous dictionary, I covered “D”. I am guilty of using decimate to denote annihilation. I am sure somewhere in this blog, perhaps recently, I have used said word to produce an image in your head of a flattened building, when in fact it should have only given you an image of a building with the corner room missing. My apologies.

Sweet!

Now I can share Daily Show videos much more easily. Instead of finding illegal clips of the show on YouTube I can use official clips from comedycentral.com and embed them here. This one was from a couple nights ago. John Hodgman is great.