Monthly Archives: November 2012

NaNoBloMo Day 2: The show-must-go-on edition.

I just want you to know that I’m feeling very depressed. Oh, no wait. That was someone else. No, I’m not depressed. I’m feeling sick, actually. Low-grade fever, achy, chills. Gross. But THE SHOW MUST GO ON. It’s only Day 2! I can’t let my clever readers down just because of some piddly little FEVER. Unless it’s dance fever, or cabin fever. Maybe one of those. But ordinary fever? NEVER.

So here we are then. Day 2 of Blovember (blogging in November—see what I did there?), achy, chilled, and feverish, and because I’m feeling achy and feverish it seemed appropriate to spend some time writing about……. love. Specifically, young love. Young, puppy love. Wide-eyed, open-armed, the-future-is-what-we-make-of-it, world-is-our-oyster, I-just-met-you-and-this-is-crazy love.

Someone has set up some pianos on State Street in Santa Barbara. Public pianos. Playable by anyone who happens to be passing by. Perfectly playable, actually. And painted. Perfectly playable painted pianos in public. I was walking down the street of painted pianos the other night with my friend Jamie (who came to visit for the weekend), and there, across the street, playing one of the painted pianos, was a boy in a hat. He was probably around 18 or 19. I stopped for a minute and listened from across the street. He was playing Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen. Lovely. I’m a sucker for that song and it’s not easy to sing it well, without sounding sentimental and schmaltzy. The kid was singing it well. At that moment, he was both himself, and at the same time, he was every young man. Every boy with rosy cheeks and a smile that shines with the light of a heart as-yet-unbroken. Everyone who ever had a desire to sing a love song to the open air, with the hope that someone would hear. We decided to cross the street.

It was while we were waiting for the crosswalk sign to turn that I realized that even though I still feel like a rosy-cheeked high schooler, it’s been a long time now that those days have been gone. My own boy is only a few years away from the heady, hopeful adrenaline rush of adolescence. The piano player wouldn’t see the young person inside, but an old lady, and certainly not the smiling young thing he was (probably) hoping for.

So after crossing the street, I said nothing, just stood with my back to the Old Navy, and listened. I listened while he finished Hallelujah, and started singing Let it Be. Somewhere halfway through Sir McCartney’s transcendent chorus, she appeared. Glossy brown hair, rosy cheeks, leggings, boots, a scarf, and a shy smile.

“Do you know any Coldplay?” she asked.

“I know most of The Scientist,” he said, and started it off.

…You don’t know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let’s go back to the start…

“Nobody said it was easy,” he sang. And it isn’t. The roses fade a bit, and the eyes stop shining quite so brightly, and start to glow with something a bit less audacious. Something that looks like a cross between wisdom and heartbreak. But just then, in that moment, a boy and a girl smiled at each other. He sang, she ran her hands through her hair. They both smiled, and they neither one of them knew how lovely they were.

NaNoBloMo is back.

It’s back! It’s fashionably late! It’s NaNoBloMo, by popular demand! Or popular request maybe? Or at least one request, anyway. By one of you. And so, here we are, gentle reader(s). I will be bringing you little snippets of my life, once per diem, throughout (what’s left of) the month of November. You will be inspired. Or, failing inspiration, you will be amused. Or, failing that, at the very least, you will be diverted for a few minutes. Satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back! And, as always, we shall endeavor not to waste your time.

The photos, I’m afraid, won’t be as lovely as they have been in the past. My trusty PowerShot was fatally wounded by some beach sand in an unfortunate episode last year (I shudder to think of it, even now. It was a tragic day). For the time being, the part of My Camera will be played by an understudy, the Verizon HTC Incredible. I’m afraid it won’t be like that magic moment I witnessed last year, when the understudy played the part of Aida at the Metropolitan Opera, and at the end, she got standing ovations and dozens of wealthy, teary-eyed octogenarians shouting “Brava! Brava!”… this is more likely to be like that time you didn’t have any baking powder and you thought it might be okay to just use baking soda instead. After all, it’s for baking, right?

Anyway. Moving on. It’s November now. Almost halfway through already. But let’s start off November blogging by talking about October. Specifically, Halloween.

I was informed, during my first week at the new job, that Halloween is kind of a big deal. There’s a breakfast, there’s a costume contest, photos, etc. and everybody dresses up. So, even though I had just moved into my new apartment, and everything was still everywhere, and the thought of making a Halloween costume seriously made me want to throw up a little bit, I decided to make one anyway so I wouldn’t be the only one at the office without a costume. I had a bunch of boxes left over, so…

So… the costume didn’t have any armholes or anything, and I couldn’t sit down in it. So, before the breakfast started, and then while I was eating breakfast, and then for the rest of the day, I actually didn’t wear the costume, it just sat by my desk. Somebody from the IT department came through the room early in the morning and said, “Oh, that’s where I left my Tardis. I’ve been looking for that.”

Speaking of the IT department. While I was walking around in my giant Tardis box, I found this guy, from IT. (We got some pictures together, of course, but I don’t have copies of those yet).

The other thing about a giant box Tardis: Getting it to the office was a bit of an ordeal. You don’t think about these things, because the Tardis just… goes anywhere, right? Yeah. About that.

So anyway, after two different blue paint attempts (the first one wasn’t the right color blue, so I had to go to the store for more), after asking random pizza workers for pizza boxes, after cutting out window holes with a razor knife, after hand-lettering “POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX” in white paint, after spending two nights putting the whole thing together, I think it was (probably) worth it. I think. The work Halloween party itself was pretty amazing, actually. Lots of people with lots of great costumes. I snapped a picture of what was the best costume in the room (I thought). How cool is this?

Until tomorrow, then.