I like a lot of things.

I like trashy romance novels, and almond related pastries, and carnivals, and mountains, and really loud concerts, and listening to disco on trains, and the internet, and about a million other things.

But sometimes I think that while I probably like all of these things equally, there are a few things that I enjoy doing/ eating/ watching/ etc. that really make me feel most like myself. For example, when I listen to Celtic music (or anything that incorporates a lot of bagpipes), I feel most like Tara. This isn't to say that I like that music any more than I like listening to show tunes or metal or anything else in my music library, in fact I can go months at a time without feeling the need to pop in a Gaelic Storm CD, but when I do it just seems to get under my skin a little more than any other kind of sound.

Lately a few things in life have conspired to leave me feeling a little off kilter, and last night I quite accidentally had an evening that seemed tailor designed to make me feel more like myself. When Grant and I lived in Kingston our most recent apartment was right over a Vietnamese restaurant, which is basically one of my all time favorite kinds of food. I don't think I've had Vietnamese food since the last time I was hungover in Kingston, so when my parents suggested we try a local place, I was pretty excited to indulge in the Jersey version of the #34 that I always used to order. Afterwards we went home and ended up watching a documentary that I've been wanting to see for some time, 32 Short Films About Glenn Gould, which if you like music or non-linear storytelling, go watch it immediately!

It sounds kind of douche-y and pretentious to say that Vietnamese food and an avant-garde Canadian documentary clicked me into feeling a little more like myself, but who are you to judge? Grant, you've been quiet for a few weeks, I challenge you to a topical blog post: what activities/ sounds/ sights/ tastes make you feel most like yourself?

Words, words, words!

I've been thinking about the intersections between vocabulary and geography lot lately.

An example. The other night at practice I forgot to bring a water bottle. There was an empty one in my car, and so I wanted to determine if there was a water fountain anywhere in our practice space or if I was just going to have to suck it up/ pass out from dehydration.

"Is there a drinking fountain around here?" I managed to ask that night's practice leader between asthmatic pants.

"A what?"

This is where I paused. Either the nice tall man hadn't heard me over the sounds of chatter and velcro, or he was also from Wisconsin. I took a leap of faith.

"A bubbler*?" I ventured.

He shrugged and went into the hallway to look, while the girl sitting next to me took a sudden interest. "You did not just say 'bubbler!?!" She looked amused. I somewhat sheepishly admitted that I had grown up in Wisconsin, and she told me that her husband is from Rhode Island, where the term is apparently also used.

Another girl gave me her extra bottle of water and practice continued on, but my mind lingered on my hopeful attempt at regionalism.

I was born in Massachusetts and until I was about seven I had a fairly awesome little New England accent. Then we moved to Wisconsin, where I was made fun of for saying things like caw instead of car (or key-ar, if you're going to be Midwestern about it) and eventually my accent faded into something that was no longer "posh" New England, but definitely not a character from Fargo either. Despite the fact that my accent seemed fairly impervious to Wisconsin, after just three and a half years of living in Ontario, I've noticed that my lately my vowels are more rounded, and my bosses tease me when I mention "clocking out."

What I'm getting at with all of this rambling, is that I don't really sound like I'm from anywhere particular. I just sound like I'm from North America, generally. So while some people can answer "where are you from?" just by the way they say "ya'll" or "caw" I tend to look toward regional vocabulary if I want to add some flavor to my indistinct intonations. This also means that when I say "bubbler" or unthinkingly slip an "eh" at the end of my sentence I get raised eyebrows or made fun of for trying to be Canadian. But to me these words are like little badges, showing where I've been and which places have left an impact on who I am. If accents are like vocal landmarks, I sometimes feel like I'm left surreptitiously building little trails signs out of my vocabulary. Your ears might just skim right past the "bubbler" in my sentence the same way you might not notice that someone arranged a few sticks just so while walking in the woods. But its there. And, as I fumble to explain that I'm only living in South Jersey, no I'm not really from here, these words are a comfort, inconspicuously pointing towards home.


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*A definition according to Wikipedia:

The 'bubbler' was developed in 1888 by the then-small Kohler Water Works (now Kohler Company) in Kohler, Wisconsin, which was already well-known for its faucet production. While Harlan Huckleby is credited with the actual design, it was Kohler who patented it and trademarked the name. The original bubbler shot water one inch straight into the air, creating a bubbling texture, and the excess water ran back down over the sides of the nozzle. It was several years later before the bubbler adapted the arc projection, which allowed the drinker to partake more easily.

And now you know!

In Which I Originally Forgot to Title this Post

Happy belated Labor Day! I kept wanting/ meaning to post over the weekend, but since both my sister and J-beau were visiting, I didn't have a whole lot of time to compose my days into pithy anecdotes.

Truthfully, the weekend wasn't particularly exciting anyway. My family went to the Amish market for fresh pretzels and delicious meats. J-beau and I went wine tasting (please take a moment to laugh at how ridiculous the idea of fine New Jersey wine sounds), and then on the way home stopped by a race track and took in some drag racing. Wine + race cars = classiest, most random date ever.

The fun stuff all happened today, and that was what I was saving up my blogging powers for. Today involved driving way into Pennsylvania to get some footage of an installation for my company, and then driving into another section of Pennsylvania for my first ever roller derby practice!

I haven't been on roller skates since I was 17 and it was a part of high school gym curriculum. Still, I do have vague memories of being the best at roller blading on my block, circa age 6. I also like ice skating. These were pretty much my qualifications going into practice. I was the least expereienced of the rookies, but I had a lot of fun learning to stop and fall and block. I think that the sport will be a good outlet for my aggression, plus I don't think that I've played a legitimate, organized team sport (non gym class related) since... the fifth grade during an ill-fated attempt at the basketball team? Before that it was soccer in grade 2... which is another childhood trauma for another blog post.

Plus, I'm answering Grant's challenge from his last post, however indirectly. I haven't been back to the gaming store yet (too busy to fight the last boss!), but I have joined a team sport, which has to count for something - especially when its as cool as derby.

Grant makes a saving throw to end "drudgery"

I'm still not sure what this wonderblog is about. There's no real theme, except for "items of interest".  I imagined I would play off Tara's entires more, and vice-versa, but so far our entries have not had any relation.  I've decided to just let "it" happen, whatever "it" is.

And as fortune would have it, I have a continuation on the theme of Tara's Why Can' t We Be Friends? post. I went to bed Monday night feeling irritable and bored. I tried eating, music, cartwheels, whooping, walking, singing, conversation and hugs, but nothing made me feel better. I'll skip the internal monologue (which, incidentally has a neat Wikipedia page) which led to my diagnosis: I had nothing to look forward to. Without something enjoyable and reliable to fill my calendar, my foreseeable future was a grey haze of daily drudgery.

So I left the house Tuesday morning intent on finding a RPG group to join, specifically Dungeons & Dragons (What's an RPG you ask? I found a great RPG podcast, Fear The Boot, which dedicated Episode 115 to explaining RPGs for the layman). I've been meaning to start playing for a year now.  It was surprisingly easy. By the time I got home Tuesday evening, I had managed to find not one, but two groups to join (one of them completely by accident). I'm considering joining both groups too. It's more than the game, it's being able to hang out with some like-minded people. It's nice to know that I still have the capacity to make friends. I hung out with the first group as they smote some undead, and within an hour I felt so welcomed and totally at ease. They even took some time out to help me create my very first character.  I bought some new multicoloured dice, and I can't wait to break them out.  I am seriously nerding out you guys.

I challenge you, Tara: have you asked those fine gentlemen to be your friends?

Na na na na Na na na na

DC Comics is releasing a 75th Anniversary Collection of their most prized theme songs, which will have to wait for it's chance at my wallet until after I've bought a couch, a bookshelf, D&D Essentials, and Metroid: Other M (read: after Christmas). The compilation has some glaring omissions - for example, the failure to acknowledge anyone in satin tights, fighting for her rights.  Also missing is the theme song from Batman: The Animated Series, one of my all time favourite cartoons.

For those who haven't seen the show, it was heavily influenced by Tim Burton's Batman films from 1989/92. The portrayals of Bruce Wayne (Kevin Conroy) and The Joker (Mark Hamill) here are still considered the standard by many fans, myself included. Several elements from the show even made their way into the comics, including new characterization for Mr. Freeze and the completely new character, Harley Quinn.

If you're a fan of the show already, I recommend this audio recording of the show's composer, Shirley Walker, as she walks us through the music from the show. It gets the blood pumping. Near the end of the clip, she touches on the similarity between the themes of the cartoon and the films.  I may be the only one that sees the need to have both themes in the Anniversary Collection, since 1) I think the show is gangbusters and 2) Batman Returns is one of my top three favourite movies.

Ah, this show is one of those children's programs that's even better as an adult. I watched it when I was a kid of course. I was mesmerized by the grotesque villains like Baby Doll, The Ventriloquist, and Clayface. And the heroes... Nightwing was one of my first TV crushes, though at the time I didn't know why I got so excited when he showed up. 

Incidentally, I've just recently gotten into comic books, and I'm hoping some readers could suggest a good story arc that showcases Dick Grayson being awesome.

Hel-lo, Mister Mullet.

As I explored the music of Batman: The Animated Series on YouTube, I came across several recommendations for Batman: The Brave and the Bold. It's the current animated Batman series. Whereas the 90's cartoon took the noir approach to Batman, the new show takes the classic camp approach. I've seen a couple episodes, and it seems like a lot of fun. A lot more promising than The Batman from a few years ago.

Offices and Autos

Yesterday I started my first semi grown up job.

Afterward I got hit by a car.

A metaphor maybe?

***

I'd go on and on about the specifics of my new job and new co workers, but since the job is fairly internet heavy, it seems prudent to be vague. I can say that so far, based on two days of a sort of orientation, I'm really enjoying it. Nice people, fun atmosphere, and, best of all, I have my own office.

Let me repeat that, I have an office. I can say, "please, step into my office." I can invite people to have a seat. I can find a small table for my office bar, Mad Men style. Never mind that the room is a little bigger than a closet and was filled with boxes, and old ink cartridges, and packing materials, and for some reason an old drum kit this morning, it is an office, and it is mine. There is even a really nice desk! With a whiteboard!

I'm glad that Grant and I are blogging now, because years from now, if apes haven't taken over and the rapture (or other religious apocalyptic event) hasn't struck, I think it will amuse me to look back and read about my giddiness over a little room with a desk and a lot of boxes in it.

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The other part of my news, of course, was getting hit by a car. Thankfully, as far as accidents go it was minor, and I was more mentally stunned than physically hurt. The woman who slammed her car into mine was a nurse, and felt awful about it, especially since my rear end/ trunk was dented and she didn't have so much as a scratch. Having once rear ended someone many years ago, I understood how she terrible felt, and she kept apologizing over and over. She had just gotten off of a really long shift at a nearby hospital and probably didn't need a car accident to add to her long day. Happily we were both insured.

This is not a particularly dramatic or exciting story, but it seemed like the sort of thing a person would blog about, so here I am.

...

Before ending this post of awkward transitions, I wanted to apologize to Grant. I told him that I would post this last night and then after playing Bananagrams (soooo fun) with my mom I ended up falling asleep earlier than expected. Be annoyed if you want, Grant, but I will play the "just got hit by a car" card, and try not to let it happen again.