Rex and That Guy

Blog, because I don't get to use my Rex Goliath tag as much as I would like to, I just want to take a moment to mention how that guy I'm dating got me a whole box of the stuff for Christmas (not to mention a few wine stoppers and a notebook to jot down those notes I'm always taking as well). It's quite the variety of wine too. Right now I'm starting on a bottle of the Zinfandel. It's pretty much making my night.

Here's to that guy I'm dating and the one and only Rex Goliath.

Conveniently enough, the rooster looks astonishingly similar to that guy I'm dating.

Triple J and My American Friends

Blog, my go-to friend and nearly constant companion Kerin, is leaving for Australia on Friday. Well, I guess technically she'll be flying to LA on Friday night, but from there on Saturday she'll be hopping on a plane across the Pacific to the land where "it all started" (as she likes to put it). What started there? Why her relationship with her now husband of course. Though Kerin is from Boston, she lives here in Minneapolis because he is from here. And because she met him on a study abroad trip in Australia in 2004, she took a giant leap of faith to be with him in a land that, to her, is almost as strange as where "it all started". Since she's taken the plunge of becoming an east coast girl who resides in the Midwest, we've become incredibly close friends who finish each others' sentences and eat lunch together every day. That guy I'm dating might also be her husband's distant relative, but who's really keeping track of just how much our lives are intertwined at this point...

Not me.

Anyway, one bit of knowledge that Kerin has taught me about the land down under is the existence of Triple J, Australia's version of England's Radio 1. What's Radio 1? Well, it's England's radio station of course. Imagine if the States had a radio station that expanded across our purple mountain majesties and amber waves of grain and this radio station played magical music that was more than just Rihanna's We Found Love every ten minutes and bad jewelery commercials. Imagine that you could call into this radio station no matter if you were in Seattle, or San Antonio, or Tallahassee and when you call in, you talk about silly things like what makes a good name for an uncle or the giant hamburger you ate at McDonalds. And you can share that with the rest of your country all while fun and exciting music plays in between the little conversations you have with the Dj's. And everyone is friends. Everyone is radio friends who listen to fun music and talk about hamburgers. Why America? Why don't you have the Triple J of the New World? I know I just wrote about how I love you and how it makes me happy to be here, but your approach to radio needs an improvement.

At least there's MPR...

I digress. This Triple J has become somewhat of an addiction for me. Especially in the morning at work since I like to mindlessly listen to music and radio Dj's can be distracting what with their talk of uncles and such. But remember Blog, this is Australia. When it is morning time for me, it is the middle of the night for them, so they don't really have a lot of Dj babble. They just have fun Australian (and UK and US and European) music with the occasional Dj being all "it's 4 am, WTF are you doing up at this hour?"!

And next week when I'm listening to the "Mid Dawns" on the "J" (as I've nicknamed it), I'll be thinking of Kerin and Nick on their honeymoon, revisiting their old Aussie haunts that brought them together so many years ago. Only they won't be reminiscing as I listen in the morning time. They'll hopefully be sleeping and getting rest for the bright and sunny summer day that lies ahead of them. I'll miss them both, especially since Kerin is such an installment in my life, but I think it's such a lovely bookend for them at this point to revisit the place where they met in the form of a honeymoon. And by "bookend" I mean one of those decorative ones that you'd put in the middle of a line of books on a shelf. I don't want this to be the last time they visit the weirdest continent on the planet.

OMG! Drinking wine and blogging about my friends is totally making me tear up. I love you guys!

Americans in England

Thought: I was walking in the skyway the other day, Blog, and I had a flash of a memory from the last time I was in London. It was an odd memory because it was at a point in my trip over there where I had been the only American for a good week or so and had settled into the fact that no one else around me was from where I was from. And then I went to London where the moment I got on the tube, I noticed there were Americans all around me. I felt both very much at home and oddly disappointed that I wasn't the only American anymore. I found myself wanting to start up conversations with my brethren just for the comfort of knowing that they'd understand the joys of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and 30 Rock. At the same time, I felt like I had to share England with them. Like, what are you doing here? I'm the American who is in England right now. You guys aren't supposed to be here because you're not from here. Only English people are in England. I understand that is a ridiculous thing to think and feel, but I'm just going to chalk it up to the little bit of culture shock I had taken a week to absorb and appreciate by that point.

We're the ones wearing not black.

Anyway, it was a really random memory to have as I was in the skyway headed into the Wells Fargo building in downtown Minneapolis. There is really nothing reminiscent of London or England in that particular place, but I guess sometimes memories just happen to us completely unprompted. If anything, it made me appreciate that I am in the place where I am from and that even though our American culture isn't always lauded or apparent (to us anyway), it is more of a part of me than I ever realized before. It feels good to belong somewhere.

The bright, spacious, and clean New World. No wonder we're cocky about this.

Maybe I Just Wrote This For Storage Purposes...

Blog, maybe it's time I made you more controversial. I mean, aren't you a little tired of hearing about my day and my emotions on the mundane things that happen to me all the time? Maybe I should start having opinions about world events and issues. There's a global economy out there, whatever that is. Maybe I should make comments about it to you. There was this whole protest thing that happened across the US and the world. Maybe I should record my thoughts and feelings on it. There are crazy politicians everywhere. Maybe I should link to videos of them more often.

Or I can continue being myself. That advice applies to not only job interviews and dates, but also to writing in you. It's not good to pretend to be something you're not on a public forum. It can be exhausting and holes can easily be poked through the facade you are trying to create. Yeah. I think I'll keep it to the mundane activities that occur in my day to day experience. If for some reason those occurrances get me going on a political rant or a moral debate, then so be it. I can always make a point to follow these rules and these steps to enhance you and myself in one way or another; whether you end up controversial or a mere narrative of my life.

Christmas Creativity

Blog, it's Christmas party season and as a result I've found myself getting all dolled up for house parties over the weekend. Why is it that a Christmas party calls for an air of extravagance? Both Friday and Saturday evenings I spent way too much time doing my hair and make up, and figuring out what I was going to wear. Friday was especially fancy since the party I attended was put on by a couple of gays I know. Those gays know how to class a get-together up, I tell ya. I mean, I got an invitation in the mail complete with party time being described as 8 o'clock post meridian. I didn't even know p.m. was a real acronym. And the loft condo that it was held in was flawlessly decorated, complete with a shag rug and vase (pronounced vahz, naturally) collection.

Saturday, Kerin put on a holiday get together that included a cheese tray, tons of beer, and a dress from Saks 5th Avenue. I didn't even think I knew people who actually shopped there, but it turns out they had a sale on Wednesday that had some pretty good deals. Had they had that little green number in my size, I totally would have allowed it to make its debut at both parties. But alas, I was left to what little fashion creativity I possess to figure out that wearing cheap second hand clothing can be classed up by sequins. When in Christmas party doubt, sequins. Just sequins.

And now I'm home, working on this summary of Wuthering Heights that I've put off for way too long. No offense, Blog, but I want to expand the venues in which I write. Improv is great, but is getting a little stale as of late so I've been looking for other creative outlets. Writing in you is nice, but then it leads me to want to explore what else I can do. Kerin and I have been looking at classes at The Loft which I think would be a great way to expand my horizons and also hold me accountable to creating independently. What do you think? I mean, I wouldn't leave you behind. You're actually the only thing that I can write in continuously without having to stop, read, heavily criticize myself, cry, and then delete everything just came out of my finger tips only to try, try again. Of course you've know that all along, haven't you.

Well, if anything, I can look into it and learn more. A year ago, I was in England meeting a guy I'd eventually fall in love with, travel thousands of miles to see, and then come to a realization that home is where the heart is. Maybe a year from now, I'll have a new skill set. Who knows.

It's a List. You Know This Means I'm Lazy Right Now.

Here's some stuff, Blog.

1. On Saturday night that guy I'm dating brought me out to meet with a friend of his from college. He (and his brother) turned out to be nice guys... who share my past. Ok, they don't really share my past, but there are some similarities to note. Like their family has a cabin in central Minnesota. On the same lake my grandparents and the rest of my family live/summer on. Not only is it on the same lake, it's down the road; on the other side of the creek to be exact. There were other similarities including (and probably limited to) him living in the same dorm I had lived in up in Bemidji (granted it wasn't at the same time), his brother having been in the obscure and small town my dad lives in just last week and his wife having the same maiden name as my mother. I'm not looking too far into all of this, but you're going down in the boat parade next summer, Brad.

2. Yoga with Dylan starts in T minus 13 minutes and I'm not going, Blog. I have made a point to go to Dylan's "yogi" littered class the last few Mondays because this lady needs to get back in shape. Monday evening is a convenient time for me to bend and strengthen my body via a series of thousand-year -old poses. Monday evening is also Dylan's slot for prattling off insane poses without any mention of modifications for us less practiced individuals. As a result I hold a certain bitterness towards Dylan. First of all, I always forget his name is Dylan and I instead call him Logan. Secondly, he's got annoying yoga tats. Thirdly, he's smug in an I-can-achieve-ultimate-meditation-that-you-can-only-wish-to-experience kind of way. Fourthly, he walks around the room and never demonstrates poses unless they're on this list.

3. Instead of going to yoga with Dylan (now starting in T minus two minutes) I'm going to walk a mile and a half to spend an evening of wine and trivia with old college buddies Andy and Rob. It should be a good time. And the fact that I will be briskly walking three miles between my trek there and back more than makes up for any sort of regret I might have at missing Dylan and his way too fast pronunciation of "Utthita Parsvakonasana".

4. With that, I have to be on the road in an hour and there's a load of laundry to take out of the dryer downstairs. I wanted to make this point about how my mom is going to be moving out of the crappy little apartment that I spent my adolescence in, but that will take too long so I'll save it for another day. I'll just say it's a little weird that I'm not going to get to say goodbye to the apartment I called "home" throughout junior high and high school; and that I would always come back to throughout college and into the present. But I'm glad that she's finally going to have carpet, tile, and cabinets that aren't straight out of the 70's. That'll be a nice change.

Time for a shower and then drinking with friends! (After walking a mile and a half to get to them. Wish me luck, Blog.)

Dairy Diary.

I should really buy juice when I go to the grocery store, Blog. I've been thirsty all night and I find water to be boring, so I've been drinking milk non-stop. It's delicious, but as for quenching my thirst goes...

Instead of sucking it up and putting back some water, I've just been refilling my glass with the sweet, sweet two percent that I've been partial to since my childhood. It's so comforting. So satisfying. So delicious. Now if only I would stop being thirsty all the time.

Oh well. At least I drink milk. The other day my improv coach started going on and on about how we as humans aren't designed to ingest milk. I totally am aware of this, but I don't care. I bet we're not designed to eat pop tarts either, but what's stopping Kellog from stocking my local grocer's shelves with magical toaster pastries with artificial fruit filling? At least milk comes directly from nature... for the most part. At least it's full of calcium and vitamins and fat and delicious. I'm glad I'm one of the lucky ones who didn't catch the lactose intolerance (knock on wood).

Appropriately enough, I'm listening to goofy Australian DJ's talk about cheese as I check out the Triple J radio stream this evening. Honestly, I was hoping for a little more music, but I guess the only way they can wile away their Monday afternoon is to talk at length about how awesome dairy products are. Reason number 847 why I need to go there one day. Though it seems that their sense of humor is along the same lines as the Brits. This isn't surprising since they both use the term "wanker" at an unhealthy rate, yet still manage to be endearing. OH FOREIGN ENGLISH SPEAKING COUNTRIES!

I love that I'm writing about dairy in what could be considered a sort of diary. Dairy Diary. Thus the title of this post was born.