What's That Noise?
Last night was a slow Saturday night. In such a fast-paced city, I am proof that someone can have a slow night. I suppose I needed to stay inside, needed to have some time to sort through all that has happened in this past week. Here are the momentous events that have transpired since I last posted:
I attended the longest birthday party in history: Last Saturday, one of my son's classmates had her 5th birthday at the park by our house. After several of these birthday parties, I now know that Black folks don't have a lock on CP time (colored people's time in case you didn't know) because our Latino brothers and sisters take it to a new level. How about a party start time of 1:30...but the birthday girl and her family don't even show until 3:30? I was lucky there were only two pinatas at this party instead of four. I've noticed that the average is to break open one pinata per hour. Believe me, if you leave before all the pinatas are busted and the cake is cut, that's the height of rudeness. We got home at about 9:30 at night. What did we do while we were killing time at the park, waiting for the party to start? We watched...
The "One Crazy Summer Dodgeball Tourney": Hosted by the Los Angeles Dodgeball Society, this event was taking place at the recreation center in the park. Teams had to come dressed up in costume, so imagine a team called "The Nerds" playing a team called "The Hezbollahs" -- all to the retro sounds of 1980's dance and freestyle music. It was a classic, "only in Los Angeles" moment. This was nothing like the dodgeball you may recall from middle school gym class. I felt like I was in a club...watching a woman dressed up as Pee-Wee Herman dance to Pretty Poison's "Catch Me I'm Falling", all while avoiding getting hit by a blue rubber ball. It was a great weekend and then...
I went back to work: My wonderful vacation ended and Monday found me back on the grind in pursuit of student achievement. Except, some folks at my office are abandoning that grind. I came back to announcements of resignations. Whenever one or two people leave, it makes you wonder...hmm...should I be making that move as well? The fact that I worked really long hours all week made me tired, (duh) and probably contributed to my getting a sore throat.
Visitors from "The Chi": Our dear sister, Syda Taylor, is here visiting from Chicago and we've given her the Hollywood tour, the Los Feliz tour, and the Silverlake tour. Despite all the driving around, it's just nice to be with someone you've known from home, someone who feels like family, someone for whom you don't have to micro-clean the house.
Writer Talks at Vroman's: Thursday night found me trekking up to Pasadena to attend a chat with some writers that happen to also teach at UCLA. I mostly went because the instructor for the class I took this past spring, Noel Alumit, was on the panel. I like Noel because he doesn't spout a lot of b.s. and he seems to be an optimist as well as a realist. Quite a combination. The gent who's teaching the novel writing course I'm considering taking, well, I'm skeptical. He seemed more intent on cracking jokes than anything. But, he could end up being totally fine. Of course, one of my anonymous commentators has me thinking I should take the romance writing class. Actually, it sounds like a load of fun, writing about love and romance. I suppose it's my own literary snobbery that keeps me from it. What do you think?
What's that noise?: Have you ever found yourself driving on a Friday night in the carpool lane on the southbound 110 Freeway, going around 70 mph, when you suddenly hear a really odd sound? Yes, you too might think it's the gigantic truck speeding along next to you. Until that truck passes you by. I said to my other half, "Hey, what's that noise?" He replied, "Maybe it's the road." Given that I spend half of my existence on the 110 Freeway, I had to disagree. Then I saw smoke in my rearview mirror. Turns out, one of my tires had completely shredded and my AAA card came in handy yet again. It only took around twenty minutes for the truck to come and the tire was changed in a jiffy -- and I was thanking my lucky stars that our car didn't flip over or something. Which brings us back to the slow Saturday night.
I needed to just relax. I declined invitations and instead found myself nursing my sore throat, listening to Ultra by Depeche Mode and watching the film Good Night, And Good Luck. Ultra is one of my favorite albums and the movie is quickly becoming a favorite of mine as well. It's a throwback to those wonderful childhood mornings I spent watching the nine-o-clock morning movie on WGN. Would I even know who Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwyck are if I hadn't grown up in the Chicagoland area in the late seventies? I went to bed early and woke up refreshed and ready to jog two miles around the track located in the very same park that hosted the world's longest birthday party last week.
It all comes full circle, n'est-ce pas?
I attended the longest birthday party in history: Last Saturday, one of my son's classmates had her 5th birthday at the park by our house. After several of these birthday parties, I now know that Black folks don't have a lock on CP time (colored people's time in case you didn't know) because our Latino brothers and sisters take it to a new level. How about a party start time of 1:30...but the birthday girl and her family don't even show until 3:30? I was lucky there were only two pinatas at this party instead of four. I've noticed that the average is to break open one pinata per hour. Believe me, if you leave before all the pinatas are busted and the cake is cut, that's the height of rudeness. We got home at about 9:30 at night. What did we do while we were killing time at the park, waiting for the party to start? We watched...
The "One Crazy Summer Dodgeball Tourney": Hosted by the Los Angeles Dodgeball Society, this event was taking place at the recreation center in the park. Teams had to come dressed up in costume, so imagine a team called "The Nerds" playing a team called "The Hezbollahs" -- all to the retro sounds of 1980's dance and freestyle music. It was a classic, "only in Los Angeles" moment. This was nothing like the dodgeball you may recall from middle school gym class. I felt like I was in a club...watching a woman dressed up as Pee-Wee Herman dance to Pretty Poison's "Catch Me I'm Falling", all while avoiding getting hit by a blue rubber ball. It was a great weekend and then...
I went back to work: My wonderful vacation ended and Monday found me back on the grind in pursuit of student achievement. Except, some folks at my office are abandoning that grind. I came back to announcements of resignations. Whenever one or two people leave, it makes you wonder...hmm...should I be making that move as well? The fact that I worked really long hours all week made me tired, (duh) and probably contributed to my getting a sore throat.
Visitors from "The Chi": Our dear sister, Syda Taylor, is here visiting from Chicago and we've given her the Hollywood tour, the Los Feliz tour, and the Silverlake tour. Despite all the driving around, it's just nice to be with someone you've known from home, someone who feels like family, someone for whom you don't have to micro-clean the house.
Writer Talks at Vroman's: Thursday night found me trekking up to Pasadena to attend a chat with some writers that happen to also teach at UCLA. I mostly went because the instructor for the class I took this past spring, Noel Alumit, was on the panel. I like Noel because he doesn't spout a lot of b.s. and he seems to be an optimist as well as a realist. Quite a combination. The gent who's teaching the novel writing course I'm considering taking, well, I'm skeptical. He seemed more intent on cracking jokes than anything. But, he could end up being totally fine. Of course, one of my anonymous commentators has me thinking I should take the romance writing class. Actually, it sounds like a load of fun, writing about love and romance. I suppose it's my own literary snobbery that keeps me from it. What do you think?
What's that noise?: Have you ever found yourself driving on a Friday night in the carpool lane on the southbound 110 Freeway, going around 70 mph, when you suddenly hear a really odd sound? Yes, you too might think it's the gigantic truck speeding along next to you. Until that truck passes you by. I said to my other half, "Hey, what's that noise?" He replied, "Maybe it's the road." Given that I spend half of my existence on the 110 Freeway, I had to disagree. Then I saw smoke in my rearview mirror. Turns out, one of my tires had completely shredded and my AAA card came in handy yet again. It only took around twenty minutes for the truck to come and the tire was changed in a jiffy -- and I was thanking my lucky stars that our car didn't flip over or something. Which brings us back to the slow Saturday night.
I needed to just relax. I declined invitations and instead found myself nursing my sore throat, listening to Ultra by Depeche Mode and watching the film Good Night, And Good Luck. Ultra is one of my favorite albums and the movie is quickly becoming a favorite of mine as well. It's a throwback to those wonderful childhood mornings I spent watching the nine-o-clock morning movie on WGN. Would I even know who Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwyck are if I hadn't grown up in the Chicagoland area in the late seventies? I went to bed early and woke up refreshed and ready to jog two miles around the track located in the very same park that hosted the world's longest birthday party last week.
It all comes full circle, n'est-ce pas?
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