Pulitzer and Hearst, They Think They Got Us!

Since police and city leadership are doing their absolute best to break up the #Occupy Wall Street protests, it's necessary that I post this before it becomes obsolete.  (However, my hopes are high that Occupiers hold steadfast).  With that, I give you the most awesome meme I've seen this year.

"Tell 'em, Jack!"

Happy Day-Makers

I know I'm a major slacker on my blogging. I don't even want to talk about it.  Moving on ...

I've discovered lately that my day improves dramatically with the attention to a few very simple elements.  Elements that are, shockingly, in my control.  Now that I'm a working woman and all that, the monotony of days, despite the fact that I'm overwhelmingly busy 95% of the time, can make my week just completely unfun. And that makes no sense because I spend the majority of my time/week/life in the office. Sad, really ...

It's very self-help-guru-like, I know. I think I was inadvertently inspired by the O Magazine I flipped through last weekend. I'm becoming more aware of what gives me an extra boost when the day is more boring than watching CSPAN (sorry, DC), or more stressful than awaiting a metro train when the digital predictor lists no incoming trains (sorry, DC).  Here are some of my successful happy day-makers:

• I take a hot second, at least, to give a cahoot about what I look like in the morning. I wear my best clothes, try new combinations of jewelry, try a new eye shadow color, or even just use a differently scented body wash or spray.  The good news is that in these hipster days, I can get away with wearing a lot of things and be accepted, so I feel like my options have expanded.  Probably not, but the point is I try to walk out the door feeling like a hot mama, and I wind up feeling more confident and, subsequently, in a better mood.  Yes, I do care about what others think of me.  So shoot me.
  
  I read an article that said women make the impression of being smarter when they look nicer.  The feminist in me grumbled loudly, but the columnist actually had a point. If you have taken the time in the morning to put yourself together on the outside, you appear to be more prepared for the day on the inside--you got a decent amount of sleep, ate breakfast, and are more alert and ready to rock and roll. Of course, these assumptions probably aren't true (my nemesis of a decent bedtime = OnDemand), but you can at least fake it until you really are awake and alert ... around lunch time.

• I designate something entertaining to do on my commute. It actually makes me (gasp!) look forward to the time spent on the train or bus. For example I totally dig the Washington Post Express news, found everywhere in seat crooks and from modern-day newsies. The crosswords are nerd-tastically fun and I arrive at the office fully aware of current events.
  
  I also have tried to designate the listening of my favorite podcast, Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! (you're welcome, NPR) for my time on the train or bus. Yes, I may be laughing out loud at seemingly nothing to my fellow transit riders, but I know all those who stare at me are just jealous that I'm having fun on my commute, and they're not.  

• Spotify.

• I have fresh fruit and/or veggies to snack on throughout the day.  I made a grocery trip just for my work fridge and stocked up on crunchy carrots, celery, cucumbers, etc.  It prevents from filling my hunger with the readily available office candy, and instead eating a snack that crunches like a food label mom would approve. It makes me feel way better about snacking. Even better, I negate all the calories I burn by chewing said veggies by absolutely drowning them in ranch dressing. Nom.

• I make a huge effort to actually take a lunch break, and to use it to get a change of scenery, and get some fresh air.  It works wonders to break up a day to stop looking at a computer screen and get out of the zone. Of course, I'm currently writing this from my desk computer during my lunch break.  Erm ...this is not a good example.

• G.Chat. 

• My desk is decorated with photos of my family, prints from my travels, a pretty calendar, and some posters/images/quotes that make me laugh.  It feels homey, comfortable, and better about being in my office when it's pitch black outside at 5:30pm.  Not cool, wintertime! 

So there you have it: a potential recipe for a day that's a little bit happier.  Because happiness is the core of everything.

I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet

Two earthquake-related thoughts about human nature

1. The first thing that happens after we encounter an earthquake is to wonder if anyone else felt it. The need for group validation is widespread and happens for events that don't involve earthquakes as well.
If those in the tribe feel something, we're likely to as well. That's why people look around before they stand up to offer an ovation at the end of a concert. Why should it matter if any of these strangers felt the way you did about the event? Because it does. A lot. Social proof matters. 

2. Organizations are busy evacuating buildings, even national monuments. Even though experience indicates that the most dangerous thing you can do is have tens of thousands of people run down the stairs, cram into the elevators and stand in the streets, we do it anyway. Why? Because people like to do something. Action, even ineffective action, is something societies seek out during times of uncertainty. 

[from Seth's Blog. Mad props.]   

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What a better time to resurrect my terribly neglected blog than the biggest natural event (can't quite call it a disaster) to happen to the east coast in a while?  Yes, what's been coined the "East Coast Earthquake" (flows well, doesn't it?) has "shaken" me back into blogging mode.

So, what can I blame for my neglect of my favorite writing space?  Summer?  Big life changes and new friends? Visits to and from some of my closest and favorite old friends and family?  My new job (yup, goodbye internship, hello salary!), the frustrating yet eventually fruitful hunt for a new apartment in downtown DC?  Increase in Twitter use?  My new-found obsessions with Spotify, Millionaire Matchmaker, or the Hunger Games trilogy?  (Yes, I finally got on that boat.  About to start the second!).  Alright, let's just go for all of them.

Well, the earthquake obviously wins as most blog-worthy for the past few weeks at least.  This was my first earthquake, and the experience honestly wasn't much of a doozy as one might think.  But the news and hype that surrounded it made it feel like a much bigger deal than it was, and I think my memory of it may be tainted with some of the overreactions that happened in downtown DC.  Screaming and running? Really?  Well I don't know, but I'm pretty sure my quake experience went as follows:

I was at work, jamming to T.Swift and Sugarland while doing some uploading to our sweet new site, and all of sudden, the house started shaking a little.  There's been tons of construction happening right next to my office building, so we all brushed it off as a big truck or drill.  But about 10 seconds in, it kept getting more intense--I thought my computer monitors were going to topple, and my picture frame had fallen over. Unsure what was happening, we just ran downstairs and out the door.  By the time a few of us got outside, it was over. The whole thing lasted about 20 seconds.

Considering our office is a historical 19th century Victorian House (that once belonged to the families of Robert E. Lee & Elizabeth Cady Stanton), we thought maybe something had gone on with the aged foundation. That was my first thought--that something was wrong with the house, which was why we all ran to get outside. But everyone else in the neighborhood was in a tizzy, and we heard that the building next to us and the grass were seen shaking as well.   Confusion ensued, and then we rushed back inside to listen to the radio.  It was an earthquake. It was really strong for this area--magnitude 5.9!  And what?!  It was felt all the way up to Toronto, and as far west as Michigan?  That's what got me.  I didn't think earthquakes could be that big.

(By the way, besides a couple ceiling cracks, the Cady-Lee held up okay.  This is a photo I took of the house in winter, but now seems like a good time to pause and admire its beauty.)

The first hour after the earthquake happened flew by. No one was really panicking--just confused. Lots of radios were on and phone calls being made--except cell phones were down, and that made a lot of us nervous and reminiscent of 9/11, considering how the 10th anniversary is sneaking up on us.  As for me, after soaking in what had happened, writing emails to family telling them I was safe, and having to restart my computer because my TweetDeck was throttled to the max (searching for "earthquake" was probably not the smartest thing to do) it took a while to get back into "work" mode. The radio and news confirmed that it was widespread, but there were no injuries, and the extent of the damage could pretty much be summed up by this:

I know, it's horrible.  But we're okay.  (If only that photo and association, now going viral, were my idea).  

And at about 3:00 when things were starting to calm down, floating through the office through our intercom was the lovely sounds of the most earthquake-appropriate song ever:

The song's getting tons more hits on YouTube today.  Way to go, Carole!

So, with a healthy dose of stress relief--including a plan to wrap oneself in foam in case of aftershocks-- the whole office was busting a gut.  And, unlike the rest of downtown DC, no one went home early.

Anywho, thank you, quake, for rumbling my butt back into blogging.  The timing is good anyway--just as when I was a student, this time of year inspires me to put my head in the game, turn a new page, and rejuvenate myself with an overflowing but highly enjoyable schedule.  Which will, along with dance, writing, friends, and food, be sufficiently full of earthquake jokes ... at least until Hurricane Irene hits.  Please, Irene, be kind, we've been through a lot.

In the meantime, I'm going to go eat myself some Ranch Quakes. 

True Life: I Needed College, and Not Just For My Degree

This article is cross-posted on SparkAction.org.  It would be sweet if you checked it out.

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The word on the street these days is that college is losing its worth.  "Why drop thousands upon thousands of dollars for tuition in an economy that is far less likely to find you a job that will pay you enough to make up for it?", people are saying.

In the scraping for jobs in this sad economy, a college degree--in all its glory--is losing prestige.  It can’t promise what it used to, and that’s throwing a lot of us off. We grew up being told that doing well in school and going to college would be the key to success.

Now the entire idea of higher education is being questioned.  Suggestions have emerged to skip the higher education experience altogether and get into the job market ASAP to save yourself the debt and frustration that often comes with a degree.

It is totally understandable that we’re focused on the economic crisis.  It’s a really, really big problem, and college tuitions are reflecting that.  Some re-evaluation is absolutely necessary and depending on your financial situation, other options have to be considered.  Even those of us who loved our time at college are frustrated with how hard we worked and how little it has, so far, paid us back. Literally.

But in focusing only on the economic payoff of college we’re missing something here.  Something big.  Something that is that, dare I say, even more valuable than a high paying career.

That’s the elegant point made by UCLA professor Mike Rose in his recent NPR commentary, "Value of College Extends Beyond Paycheck." Rose brings us back to the big picture—the purpose of education, what it means to be educated, and how that notion may be changing in a world obsessed with monetary gain.  He points out that the non-economic value of a higher education experience is that it expands beyond gaining a degree that will lead to a good job. His argument is a refreshing reminder to look at the broader issue and re-evaluate how we treat higher education as financial belts tighten.

"If all we talk about … is the economic pay off of education, that ends up effecting finally what we teach and how we teach it. It ends up effecting the way we define what it means to be educated." - Mike Rose

I realized this is an argument that has been missing in discussions of the value of college these days.  In fact, it gave me a big slap in the face for not thinking of it myself, in spite of all my pro-college nerdiness.  I too had been so caught up in the economic woes of the conversation and my own challenges that I had forgotten to take a step back and remember what I loved about college.  And that most of those reasons had nothing to do with working towards a career.

College made me a better person. My liberal arts college education encouraged me to dabble in different fields and schools of thought before settling into my major.  So, this argument goes hand-in-hand with the one that has been going on for years about the value of a liberal arts approach in higher education.
I knew Rose couldn’t be the first one to take the stance of valuable non-economic factors of higher education.  I wanted to see what others had to say about it, so I Googled, “why is a college degree important?” hoping for some other expert advice. My first page of results was this:

(or see for yourself)

Do you notice a pattern?  This whole first page tells us that the only reason to get a degree is to make more money.  That made me angry.  Where are those other scholars and professors and big-time advocates for higher education?  Those who believe there’s more to a degree than what translates into dollars?  With everyone’s heads stuck in the money muck, the argument for college beyond a good paycheck is a lonely one.

Why school?
 Rose talks about a “civil purpose of education” that existed in the Jeffersonian era—a belief that you needed to be educated in order to function in a society. Back then, they didn’t get degrees so they could get hired.  They read books and had arguments so they could just be in an intelligent way.  Things have obviously changed a lot since then.  But I think our forefathers were on the right track.

When I was in college, I got emotionally invested in my studies. I was studying things like ethics, gender identity and communication, and listening.  I walked out of class with tears in my eyes on more than one occasion. It was pretty amazing. If you're thinking, wow, this girl is a complete nerd!, you’re right.  But my point is that the chance to go to college and take classes like that stirred up my senses and made me realize that there is so much to learn.  It humbled me in the best way possible.  It ultimately made me want to write, and here I am.  Yes, I got a degree, and I know I deserved it.  But that's definitely not all I got.

Nothing can change the value of what happens when we get an education.  I believe what I gained in my four years of college are skills, perspectives, and lessons that I would be much more unsuccessful person without.  It gave me the ability to think about the world with an open and informed mind, the ability to engage in conversation, and the desire to feed my curiosity and explore new ideas.

So, what good does that do me?  I can have intelligent conversations with people of all ages.  I know where to look if I want to learn more about something.  I can listen in ways that make conversations productive.  I can stand my ground. I can be adventurous.  I can be ambitious, respectful, curious, and independent.  I can make myself who I want to be.  To me, that’s what a successful life is about. 

Of course, getting that degree at the end wasn’t half bad either. But what we need to remember is that a college degree represents so much about a person—what they went through to get it, and how they’ve come out more intelligent, more resourceful, and more mature than their freshman-selves.

That is what education is for, isn’t it?  Being more prepared for what’s next? What we learn in our educational journey helps us function in life before, after, and during the nine-to-five grind, and that is what we need to remember most when jobs are sparse.  In fact, the life skills that have come about through my education are probably the most valuable things I have going for me these days.

“The idea of intellectual growth that is not just learning things to make a living, but also learning things to enable you to do things with your life, enable you to find interests and pursuits that in some way or another may be expand the way you see things.  There’s a social benefit for sure—learning to think together, learning how to attack problems together, learning how to disagree, being exposed to other points of view … there’s multiple reasons that have played in and out for our justifications  for schooling.” - Mike Rose

The Baby and the Bathwater
We’re experiencing a crisis of value in this country. Especially with things on edge already, we don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater, but we’re having a hard time figuring out what the “baby” is. We view our most “imminent threat” as the economy and we’re getting tunnel-vision.  In the frantic, desperate attempts to solve our problems we tend to forget about the big picture – the foundations of our intellectual selves, which we truly need to focus on in order to pull ourselves out of this mess.

So what really is the purpose of education?  In a perfect world, it is to learn how to live well.  That usually translates into getting hired and being able to flex your brain muscles.  But clearly it’s not working out like that for many Americans these days.

So, I think we should take a step back and take an old school look at, well, school.  We need to remember that no matter one’s ambition or the higher education experience available to them--technical, vocational, liberal arts, private, public, two-year, four-year--that there is always more to learn.  Do we really want 18-year olds thrown into the job market to fend for themselves?  And miss the opportunity to learn more about the world they are working for?  I know I don't.  Young people need that time to grow and learn, and so does the well-being of our country.

Your present, blog.

For your first birthday, blog, I give you a new color palette.  I hope it makes you feel fresh and renewed, like springtime.

Happy birthday, Blog!

A year ago today, this blog was born. Though with three short entries, it was the beginning of something that has kept me motivated to think, reflect, and write, and I'm glad for it.  I remember the day well-- it was the first night in the summer apartment I was subletting in North Carolina, anticipating the next day, for it would be my first day interning with the American Dance Festival.   It was ridiculously hot and humid outside and inside (similar to where I am today), and I was content, nervous, and excited looking forward to what was in store for me.  It was an amazing summer.  Again, not too different to where I am now, a year later, in an exciting new place with an open road in front of me.

In this year, I've made some blogosphere friends and found writers like me who inspire me to write about whatever the heck I want, through 20something Bloggers and others. I've also learned a lot about myself.  So, here's to hoping I can continue to inspire myself and others with this blogness business as the years go on.

How to celebrate?  By postponing until I have time to write a real entry instead of being on Blogger when I'm at the office?  Sure.  In the interim, I'll leave my blog with a photo of a delicious-looking birthday cupcake.  A big thank you to my readers-- friends, family, random people who stumble upon my site, blog friends who I hope to someday meet in person, and even the haters (because I have so many).

ROC-City Living

Moving to a new city was so exciting.  I loved the new sights, new smells, new people, new bars (but NOT the new rent ...).  I can safely say that I've fallen in love with DC, and with a heavy heart, have told my best friends, still residing in my hometown, that I'm probably not coming back in the fall.  It's nice to be entering this new phase in my life in a new city, but coming back home to visit is just as nice.   I find so much comfort in driving around surrounded by license plates that are the same state as mine, not having to dial an area code when I make a phone call, and wondering when I'm going to run into someone from high school at the grocery store (just kidding about the last part, that is actually usually the opposite of comforting).  Home, sweet home.

In my three-day weekend, I packed in as many things "Rochester" as I possibly could.  And I did a pretty solid job:
First and foremost, I got to see all the wonderful people who still live there.  Just loverly.

Wegmans (x 3 times). Duh.  Sub shop, pastry shop, and a collection of delicious samples including sirloin with chutney sauce and grapefruit sorbet.  Score.

A 2 a.m. garbage plate.  A Rochester classic.  Well, not the 2 a.m. part, but it often coincides. Do you like to eat the most calorie-filled foods after a night of partying?  Then get yourself to Rochester for a garbage plate.  For a garbage plate, you pick your main ingredient-- hamburger, cheeseburger, white or red hot (all sans the bun), grilled cheese, egg, etc., and then pick your "fillers" like homefries, mac salad, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, etc.  It gets drizzled with a meaty hot sauce and your selection of condiments, and voila!  Chop, mix, consume.  Sound nasty?  Calorie and digestion wise, it is. But I try not to think about it... ever.  It's worth every greasy, fatty bite. My favorite combination is the classic cheeseburger plate with homefries, macaroni salad, more hot sauce, and dash of ketchup.  You're not a true Rochestarian 'til you've had one of these.  (Not my photo, but you have to see it to believe it):

(photo credit)

Highland Park, where the Lilac Festival happens annually.  I missed the festival, but I got to see the lilacs before they went away for the season. Also at Highland Park is a beautiful Vietnam War Memorial for Rochester native veterans, which I had walked through before, but wanted to visit again in honor of this weekend's holiday. It's a very nice memorial, with plaques with names of local fallen soldiers, each on its own plaque.  The plaques also say where each soldier went to high school--it was quite strange to see so many names from my high school.  It reminds me that things like this hit close to home.  The plaques spiral down a walkway that leads to larger area with more names, quotes, etc.  One of my favorite parts of the memorial is a large plaque along the sidewalk with a quote from The Things They Carried.  It's a book I read when I was in high school, but I still remember how powerful it was.

Sinbad's.  Best Mediterranean food EVER.  Sambusek plate?  Yes, please.

Abbott's ice cream.  Nothing like it.

I also was able to visit the store at which I worked for a few months when I was living at home, where I befriended many co-workers and loved being around beautiful jewelry and home decor.

Not so Rochester but still fun--the movie Tangled.  Funny adorable, and so Disney.  They wil never stop being awesome, and I love that I can still enjoy their stuff as an adult.  They can make a horse one's favorite character in a movie about humans.  Brilliant!

(credit)

I hope everyone had a day off on this holiday weekend!

And enter the coincidence: As I type this from the gate at the airport, playing over the terminal speakers is Carrie Underwood crooning "Home, sweet home."  You said it, Carrie.  This is a new phase in my life, but no matter what, Rochester will always be home, sweet home.

If you give a mouse some bread ... nothing happens

Critters. If they are in their space, fine.  But once they get into my turf, it is SO not fine.  The past 24 hours have been critter-tastic in my apartment, and I am not okay with it.

As you know from the adventures of Rupert & Wanda, spiders have always been the top of my to-eliminate list.  Or, more like the to-let-others-eliminate-for-me list.  However, now that I've moved into my own apartment, I find myself lacking in macho men to squish my least-favorite friends. I live in a basement, so the population of spiders down here is not favorable at all.  The first few weeks here were real rough.  However, I can say that I have toughened up.  I have pretty much discarded my belief that upon killing a spider it will reincarnate to 3 times its size, find me, and eat me.  In fact, I have killed more spiders in the past 4 months than I have in my entire lifetime, and can now do it with only a slight twist of the stomach and the little scardy-dance.  Except for the time I got one with my hands in a tissue, and when I squeezed, something cracked.  I felt it and heard it.  AHH. No more hand-killing for me.  So for the really big, ugly ones, I have chosen to co-exist with them. I let them stay and spin their webs into corners, and then they'll leave, and I don't know where to, and I'm okay with it.  So really, the existence of nasty spiders serve as the undertone for the rest of this entry, because they are everywhere.

First, a moth entered my apartment and has been following me around since yesterday.  I first found it in the shower, and then I got out and went to my room and it was there, perched beside my bed.  Wake in the morning, still there. Back from work, still there.  To the shower, now it's there, hanging out and taking in the steam with me.  Out of the shower, back to the room.  Moth is back in the room. I seriously think this moth is tailing me.  Does this mean I have a moth pet?  I'll name it Mandy.

Only now has it occurred to me to see if the is actually two moths that haven't moved in two days.  It is.  So, that story just died.  Can we just pretend I have a moth friend named Mandy who thinks I'm awesome?  Okay, thanks.

Tonight, I was sipping on my vino and thoroughly enjoying the premiere of So You Think You Can Dance, I started hearing strange sounds from my kitchen area.  Like someone grinding teeth.  After checking for a dripping sink or something falling over in the fridge, I ignored it.  And then it appeared.  Only for a second, but long enough for me to know.  A mouse. A tiny, 3-inch mouse, alternating taking refuge from under my minifridge and between my oven and the wall.  Cue freak-out. After leaving a message with my landlady, I wasn't sure what to do.  Taking some bad advice, and thinking that it was worth a shot, I laid out a trail of breadcrumbs from the mouse's hiding spot to the door, and then sat with the door open, hoping to lure it out.  After about 3 minutes, I realized this was a terrible idea for many reasons: a) There is no way this mouse would follow a long trail, in the light, with a human present, all the way out the door.  b) I was letting in a gazillion bugs, and  c) I now had a trail of bread crumbs on my kitchen floor that I have to clean up.  Bad idea all around.  Even my supportive mother laughed at my attempt. "You're not dealing with Hansel & Gretel here," she told me.  Got it, mom.

So I'm thinking to myself, we're geting some traps in here tomorrow morning, so I only have to deal with the mystery of the wandering mouse for one night.  It's not going to hurt me and will most likely lurk in dark corners anyway, so I'm not really bothered by it.  Then my land lady told me, "well, if it's that small, that probably means there's a momma mouse somewhere."  Okay, more bothered.  Aaaand look, there's a mouse turd on my sheets. Awesome.  Definitely bothered.

And just to top it off, as I am washing my sheets, I just chased down a mosquito in my bedroom that was, no joke, the size of a half-dollar. I no doubt let it in during the bread crumb debauchery.  At first I thought it was a daddy-long-leg bouncing from a web on the ceiling it was so big. Thankfully he didn't last long--his size greatly effected his agility to escape the wrath of my sandal.  Sucker.  Literally.  Get it?!

I wish I was joking about all this. But I'm not.  I'm off to bed, where I'll probably be cuddling with a mouse all night.  Sweet dreams, everyone! Considering my track record, the bed bugs will probably bite tonight me tonight.  Hope they stay away from you.

MONDAY (5/30) NOTE: We're having so much fun already, why not add a grasshopper? Again, wish I was kidding.  And this guy is way too fast for me to catch.  Guess he's gonna join the party. Maybe they are forming some kind of secret society like in A Bug's Life...

A Night at the Building Museum, Part II

This is cross-posted on the Dance Exchange blog.  Check it out.

[Continued from Part I] 

As we waited to make our last appearance at the Building Museum, we were able to hear David Rockwell, founder and CEO of his namesake cross-disciplinary design practice, give his keynote address. In his speech, he talked about architectural projects, commissions, and how such tasks involve one essential thing—play. Rockwell explained play through four elements—inspiration, risk, temporary, and exploration—and I realized that Rockwell’s approach to his projects and the approach to my improvisational experience that night—and to dance in general—were not so different.

Inspiration shows up whether we know it or not, for all forms of art.  Of course in choreography, inspiration leads us to create movement, spacing, picking music, and so on. In an improvisational situation, however, inspiration is much more immediate.  In the Building Museum, we drew on the shapes we saw and created in the space to create movement.  It was a constant conversation of bodies to bodies, bodies to corners, bodies to walls, and so on.  What we saw and felt there at that time was what instigated thoughts and movements—and that constant search for inspiration kept us moving.

Risk exists particularly strongly in improvisation, for so much of it is in the unknown.  At the Museum, I felt as though the stakes of risk were the highest I had ever experienced.  Not only was I in an unfamiliar space with people I had not danced with before, but the environment was full of surprises. I shared dancing space in very close proximity with fragile elements—glasses, noses, fancy clothes.  Thus, I found my spacial awareness as well as my awareness of my own clumsiness on high alert, careful not to knock over a tray of mini quiches or step on the trail of an $800 gown.  Definitely not the usual concerns I have during a performance, but it was a fascinating challenge as it unfolded.  (And yes, I made it through without injuring any party guests or their spiffy attire!).

As Rockwell elaborated on the temporary nature of his projects that moved from place to place, I thought of dance in context of as a performing art.  Dance is temporary in its essence as a performing art. Like music or theater, dance exists when it is physically being created and practiced. When the practice ends, the art ends.  As opposed to visual arts like painting and ceramics, which creates a product that is visitable, preservable, and tangible, no one can hold dance in their hands to keep forever.  I think that’s part of what makes it so organic and authentic, and why so many people can experience such emotional reactions to it.  When it is present, we can enjoy it fully in.  And, as was reiterated for me that night at the Building Museum, dance can happen anywhere, at anytime, with anyone.

Exploration is at the core of modern dance and improvisation. We explore the possibilities of our bodies, the space, and the interactions that come about by bringing all these elements into our dance as a whole.  And it’s at the core of every art form—creating something is a never ending journey of discovery and questioning.

I love that Rockwell used the word “play”—it reminded me that freedom and happiness are a huge part of creating anything.  And that we don’t have to take everything seriously all the time. Realizing how interchangeable these elements are between two seemingly separated approaches to art was one of my favorite parts of the night.  It gave me a big surge of happiness and a desire to play with my creativity. So, with his conclusion, it was off to energize the dance floor with party guests—and play we did.

Here are some clips of us in action:

A Night at the Building Museum: Notes from an evening of improvisation, Part I

With my new post as intern/apprentice at the Liz Lerman Dance Exchange (yes, it's kind of a big deal), I am finding myself in some awesome dance situations with some pretty talented people.  Not to mention that I've met Liz Lerman a couple times and share a desk space just a few feet from her.  Not kidding.  *Star struck*.  So, when a Dance Exchange company member was desperate for dancers for a site-specific improvisation at the National Building Museum, I jumped at the chance.  Performance opportunity? Check.  Site specific in a ridiculously gorgeous building that's a national gem? Check.  Affiliation with an internationally renowned company? Check.  Chance to meet fellow local dancers? Check. Free dinner? Check.  Hell yes, I'm in.

It was a super awesome experience so I naturally went to town with blog-ness.  It was so long we had to break it up into two parts, but here's how it all began ...

The following is cross-posted on the Dance Exchange Blog. They're doing some pretty cool stuff, I would browse around if I were you.

Tuxedos.  Floor-length gowns.  Cocktails.  Hors d’oeuvres. Draped tables.  And … wait? Is that a barefoot dancer over there?

Last night, I joined six other dancers in a site-specific improvisational commission at the National Building Museum’s annual Honor Award Gala.  It was a spontaneous performance for many of us—I myself found out about it a mere two hours beforehand—but it quickly became one of my most beautiful and memorable dancing experiences.

Totally unaware of the splendor of the Building Museum before this event, I found myself breathless when I first walked in.  If you’ve never been to the National Building Museum, get yourself there as soon as possible, and be sure to bring your camera.  Seriously.  Opening itself to a majestic floor-to-ceiling lobby almost the size of a football field across and 75 feet up, the space is divided by enormous ornate columns—some of the largest in the world.  Look up and twirl around and you’ll see the lobby lined with the buildings floors, fringed by arced décor that reminds of St. Marc’s basilica in Venice.

(photo by Daniel Zook)

As the cast made our way up, down, and around to get acquainted with the building, Dance Exchange company member Sarah Levitt explained that our task for the evening was to transition guests from one segment of the evening to the next through improvisation.  In our improvisation, she continued, we should make relationships with each other and the architecture and shapes of the edges, structures, and elements of the space. “This space is so amazing that really anything will look interesting,” she said in awe of the marbled columns and spanning Great Hall.  No argument on that one, Sarah.  I could tell immediately that a space like that was a dream for a dancer, especially in improvisation.  I was so excited!  Not only were we going to be able to use our bodies to explore the incredible architecture itself, but splashes of luminescent purple and green fabrics draped carefully as backdrops, artfully constructed plates of food, and a giant pyramid-shaped projector hanging from the ceiling were going to be part of our performance space.  Oh, and hundreds of people dressed as if they were walking the red carpet.

(photo by Daniel Zook)

One of the (many) things I love about modern dance is that it is easily removed from a recognizable dance environment and dropped right in the middle of pretty much any situation. In my days I’ve danced around benches along the street, on the quad of my college campus, and even around trees and mailboxes along a street in Italy.  Among party guests at the most glamorous event I’ve ever been to?  That was a new one for sure.  It was going to be a whole new ball game for me. Challenge accepted!

(photo by Daniel Zook)

Following a loose structure of spacing and theme for movement, we began the evening of improvisation by slithering our selves through the crowd of mingling guests, who spilled out of a cocktail room into the hallway during the first part of the event—a cocktail hour.  We slowly stacked ourselves in a line through the crowd, creating and shifting into shapes by relating to each other and the space. With surprised and curious reactions from party guests, we made our around and in between the conversations with shape-inspired movement.  Eventually we moved our way to corners and gaps in space in the hallway and in the party room, continuing to improvise with the space. As guests became more familiar with turning a corner to see a dancer along their path to the bar, we eventually became a part of the scenery that people seemed to enjoy.  Personally I received a few confused looks, but also many smiles, questions, and even a couple high fives as I struck a pose with a raised arm and flat (and apparently slappable!) hand.  I even had a few party guests imitate me as I twirled, posed, and spiraled my way past them, all in a fun and lively spirit.

Eventually, it was our task to help lead guests towards and down the stairs to the next part of the evening taking place in the lobby.  Using gathering and directional gestures, we helped point guests towards the stairs, and draped ourselves along the stairwell as they descended into the Great Hall.  We then welcomed the group into the lobby with joyful improvisation before we faded away to allow the evening’s official festivities to begin.

Our next appearance helped encourage guests to take their seats, we formed a festive structure called a second line, in which we followed behind a few horn-players from the evening’s New Orleans-style jazz band. Moving away from the abstract movement we know and love, we brought out the jazz hands, swinging legs, and sugar walks to capture the changed and elated energy of the live musicians interrupting the quiet mingling.  As we boogied to the staccato jazz, we each carried a few pieces of blue foam-like blocks in all shapes and sizes, taken from a work-in-progress structure of piled shapes.  We had taken them from an abstract structure sitting in the backdrop of the Great Hall (the evening’s keynote speaker explained later that these were pieces from a playground constructed in a devastated neighborhood as a part of a commissioned architectural project). After making our rounds, we playfully added our pieces to the structure and moved about the shapes, engaging in the parts and the whole as it came together.

Our last task was to encourage guests to enjoy the jazz band on the dance floor, as we were the first on the floor with snaps and claps, eventually bringing some guests to come enjoy the music with us. Once we got the group boogying, we left them to it and called it a night.

Part II will a elaborate on the evening’s keynote address about elements of play, which beautifully parallel concepts of dance.  Plus, I’ll post some video clips of us dancers in action!

America, the beautiful?

When I heard the news that Osama bin Laden was dead, I was scared and confused.  My mind was swimming with fear of retaliation and questions of what this meant for the war on terror and our troops overseas.  Trying to wrap my mind around the news, I quickly turned to CNN and listened intently to fill in the blanks that Twitter and Facebook statuses did not include.  Soon, coverage shifted from the newsrooms to DC streets, showing people literally run towards a quickly growing crowd in front of the White House cheering “U-S-A!”. 

Living in DC, it would have been easy for me to hop the metro to Pennsylvania Avenue to join what looked like half of the city in cheers.  However, I was in no state of mind to celebrate.  In fact, as I watched crowds of people pour onto the streets, my confusion deepened.  Utter joy and patriotism over a death?   I was shocked.  It seemed so unnatural.

No argument here that the world is better off without Osama bin Laden— he was a monster.  However, I don’t think any death, no matter who or under what circumstance, should be what brings a country together. I’m scared that we reacted in a comparable way to crowds in the Middle East who cheered as airplanes flew into the twin towers ten years ago.  For me, that was the most twisted part of that unforgettable day ten years ago. 

A more somber reaction to Osama bin Laden’s death would have served us much better in the eyes of the international community, for the sake of our foreign relations and for the sake of each other.  Instead of feeling patriotic, I feel disappointed in America.  I feel we’ve lost some of our dignity by showcasing to the world this kind of reaction—dignity that we are already working so hard to uphold.

I was also unsettled that many were declaring this event as the "end to the war on terror."  That is a dangerous perspective for us to have, and worries me that we were too easily blind-sighted by the significance of bin Laden's death that we temporarily lost sight of the bigger picture.  Thankfully, we're now hearing less talk of this as an end and more of as a means to an end and a point of transition for the war on terror, which I can agree with whole-heartedly. Though it's been said that al-Queda doesn't have the "smarts" to continue to carry out bin Laden's ideas as harshly, he does have a strong following who I have no doubt that we are making very angry right now.  So, we cannot have our guard down and appear easily distracted.  I say let's relish in this significant"victory", but not lose sight of what true "victory" would actually be for America, and for the world.  If one such true victory does exist.  Does it?

In his official announcement of bin Laden's death, our President, who I greatly respect, stated that "justice has been done." This statement soon become headlining and historical, summing up to a whole in four words.  Justice?  Really?  Is all right in the world now that Osama bin Laden is no longer living and breathing?

I know I cannot speak for those who lost family, friends, and coworkers on September 11^th.  I can only speak for those who, like me, lost their innocence and sense of security on that day, watching people jump from burning buildings from my middle school classroom and not quite understanding why.  But bin Laden's menacing operations and disturbing desires are still haunting all of our lives in some way,  so I am uneasy that we consider the demise of bin Laden as ‘justice’ for all suffering that was endured around the world.

Was this justice for bin Laden himself, though?  Perhaps. I understand the operation carried out in Abottabad was with the purpose of eliminating bin Laden.  I am still coming to terms with that whole concept of a justified murder in the hands of a government, which is odd because if I ask myself, "did he deserve it?", I answer with certainty, "yes."  So, I'm not sure why I'm still thrown off a little by the government's actions. What I do know, however, is that I have deep respect for the individuals who carried out the orders--for their bravery, skill, and risk they put forth to do what they felt they needed to make the world a safer place.  No matter my thoughts on military actions, of which I know I have little knowledge, my hat is always off to those who devote their lives to it.

It's times like this when I turn to (reliable) news sources, blogs, and conversations with and by my peers for help in wrapping my mind around such a historial moment. Luckily for me, I spend my days fishing through news sources for my real job, so I am in no shortage of discussion.  Also convenient for me, news has been all over young people (and vice-versa) involving Osama bin Laden's death, and what followed in the streets of America and college campuses.

It was pretty easy to notice the overwhelming majority of 20-somethings in celebrations all over the country (my tiny Ohioan alma mater even made an appearance on CNN), and the insurgence of young faces and voices has raised many eyebrows and theories in the media.  From what 9/11 meant to us to retaliation against accused apathy of our generation, people are reaching for explanations for this reaction--and some of them, I think, got it.  Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by news sources about young issues all the time these days, but this is the first time I can remember such a significant presence of young voices on a national issue in a long, long time.  But I'm not complaining about that.

This is obviously not done being talked about around the world for a long, long time, so I will continue to figure this out for myself with the help of comments, discussions, and op-eds that I stumble upon.  In the meantime, despite my confusion in my patriotism and the pride we hold as a country, I just hope we can get ourselves together and move forward calmly and rationally so we can continue towards a true end to the all of the terror this world faces.

Yes.

Yes, this is for real.  Someone has created a font.  Of Llamas.  Thanks to Katelin for sharing this ... it's probably the most impactful thing I've stumbled upon on Twitter. Ever.

I will probably do an full blog piece in Llama one day.  Get ready.  In the meantime, enjoy being bored by other fonts for the rest of your life.  And share with me your creations!  What do you think is the best thing to write in Llama?

Easy. Wonderful. VIP.

Let's start with the obvious.  I love Guster.  This is why.

As most of you already know, I've recently gained a SWEET "in" with the band, as their newest member, the spectacular Luke Reynolds, happens to be my cousin-in law (his first cousin is married to my sister). So my initial freak out about the whole situation of being connected has passed, and now I'm just totally pumped that I've been able to meet Guster a couple times, when I tried my best not to act completely crazy because I was beyond stoked.  Was only partly successful, but I've gotten better now that I'm practiced at it. *Snooty*.

In addition to having rad music,  Guster also likes the Earth.  Their tour bus runs on Biofuel.  Adam, their bass/trumpet player and singer extraordinaire, and his wife started an organization called Reverb a few years ago. It's a super cool nonprofit that teams up with bands on tour and educates fans about sustainable living.  Reverb and Guster have helped lead the way in touring artists (Sheryl Crow! Maroon 5! Brett Dennen!) to promote sustainable living at shows, and do things like "Campus Consciousness" tours in which students can help out with promoting healthy living all around. I think it's really cool that they've used the popularity of music and power in crowds that come to shows for a good cause.  So, when I saw that Reverb was looking for volunteers for the Guster show in Baltimore, I did not hesitate to fill out the application online.  Three weeks later, I got a phone call from Reverb asking if I still wanted to volunteer!  Not only would I be able to help them out, but I also got a free pass to the show, and could bring a friend with me.  Perfecto!

So last night, my environmentally passionate cousin, who also happens to be a Guster fan, and I took Oliver on a ride to the hopping downtown of Baltimore.  We were greeted at the door with our passes and joined three college kids in setting up this tour's project, a collaboration with Brita and Filter for Good.  The campaign is about trying to reduce the consumption of plastic disposable water bottles, and encourage people to use safe and renewable canisters and drink filtered water.  As volunteers, it was our job to ask people to sign the pledge to reduce/eliminate their use of crappy plastic bottles, and if they signed the pledge, they got a free (and adorable) nalgene bottle (BPA free) already conveniently filled with filtered water.  And, we had a bunch of big Brita pitchers so people could come back and refill for free.  Who doesn't like free water?  Obviously nobody--the crowd was all over it.  Hey, you gotta hydrate when you're screaming your lungs off while singing along!

The first part of the night was spent tabling, which, I must admit, I have gotten pretty good at.  College clubs followed by an entire summer marketing at ADF trained me well--after a few minutes I've got my spiel and I'm not afraid to use it.  So though I'm a little tired of saying "would you like to sign our pledge to reduce the use of plastic disposable bottles?", I'm grateful that I could spiel for a good cause.  I also got to wear and keep a really nice Easy Wonderful/Reverb t-shirt that people were jealous of.  We also got to keep the giant, brand new, and green (literally) Brita pitchers, which will come in handy later.

Cousin & I, tabling masters:

P.S. you can sign the Filter for Good pledge and check out some other seriously cool things on their website, like how to recycle Brita filters, which I did not know you could do. <-- Totally voluntary promotion. I like the Earth, too.

Though we tabled through the opener--we couldn't quite see Good Old War from our table, but we could hear them, and they rocked.  Guster came on, and we got to go watch!  They obviously put on an INCREDIBLE show.  Probably one of the best I've seen. I'm telling you, I will never, ever, get sick of this.  It blows me away every time.  This would mark the eighth time I've seen them on stage (yeah ...), and I always enjoy it like it was that very first time I saw them six years ago in Buffalo. It also helped that we found a SWEET perch in the sold-out venue, in which I'm unsure if we were allowed.  It may or may not have been a special tickets section ... but nobody stopped us, so we lucked out.  Our view from the top center:

They are geniuses, hands down.  Also fun. Ah. So good.  They flowed into a cool remix of "Hang On" with a Billy Joel tune, and the band's percussionist, Brian "Thundergod" Rosenworcel, who was not graced with the gift of vocal accuracy, seranaded the audience with Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Under the Bridge."  I got a video on my camera but it's shaky because I couldn't stop laughing.  Today my voice is sore from screaming and my legs a little achy from the constant jamming, and I love it.

If the high from the amazing show wasn't enough, we got to top off our evening with a little VIP action.  After the show, our volunteer passes got us into the after party in the private bar/room at Ram's Head Live.  Yep, that means us + Guster + about 30 other fans/people with inside connections having a drink and mingling.  I got a chance to catch up with Luke and we basked in our gene pool, as we were a mish-mash of cousins up in there.  It was a family affair.  I also got to introduce myself to the rest of the band again, and have them autograph our Brita pitchers.  Brilliant, right?!  Adam was incredibly friendly and smiley, and so grateful we volunteered for Reverb.  He's also as handsome as ever.  Gosh, can't stop swooning.   Ryan scribbled a butterfly/bug on my pitcher, and a dead duck/turkey on my cousin's.  We're still trying to figure it out.   And I think my proudest moment was when we went over to say hey to Brian, before I had a chance to introduce myself, he looked at me and said, "you're Luke's cousin." Close enough.  Done, I'm in!

BFF's.

Gene pool.

Conclusion:  I'm friends with Guster. Luke is the coolest guy ever. I have a water pitcher that will be a valuable collectible someday.  Music. Happiness.

All gimmicks aside, I'm really just grateful that I am able to tell the band how much I appreciate them and their music.  Their songs represent so many happy things in my life and I had the chance to thank them in person, genuinely, for what they are doing.  In a world of superficial fans and materialistic rewards, the opportunity to appreciate great art at this level is the opportunity of a lifetime.

Onward to the next Guster adventure in August, when they're back in Baltimore (with Jack's Mannequin)! 

At Least I Have Street Cred ... and a Snazzy Suit for April 27

This was originally posted on SparkAction.org, a journalism and youth advocacy online site.  Please follow this link to leave comments.  Thank you to all the websites, Twitter-ers, and blogs that picked this up!

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"The Millennial Generation (born 1980-2000) is the largest, most diverse, most open-minded, most tech-savvy, most eco-conscious generation in American history..." 

We are?! Golly gee, thanks! I'm blushing.

When I first read that quote from Van Jones & Lindsay McCluskey's Huffington Post article Graduating Off a Cliff: The Millenial Generation's Fight for Its Future, I gave myself a little pat on the back.  It was nice to hear my generation summed up with such compliments. So I kept reading:

"... Millennials are also the most unemployed, in debt and generally screwed over. Despite their desire to contribute to this country's greatness, Millennials may be the first generation in decades to face worse economic prospects than our parents and even grandparents."

Oh yeah, that.  Well, at least I have some bragging rights, right?   Do you think I could put my status as a Millennial on my resume?  But no, really.

I must admit, it was refreshing to read about my generation's dilemma right there in black and white for everybody to see in this article.  Take it from me: things are cut-throat out here in the job market. More than ever, where you end up relies more on luck of timing, place, and who you know than the degree and experience on your resume.

Considering the years of academic butt-kicking I have behind me, that is quite discouraging.  And this is coming from a girl who was privileged to go to a decent public school district and then immediately to a four-year, private, prestigious university, so I know that my struggles only chip the tip of this massive iceberg. That's what worries me the most about this whole thing.

My mother usually has advice for everything, but even she couldn't help me out much with this "real world" crisis.  I think this is true for many Millennials—our moms, dads, mentors, teachers,etc., entered the job market in an almost incomparably different market; even those older peers who graduated during past recessions or the dot com crash haven't seen it this bad, as recent data shows.

This crisis isn't just about income. Sure, we Millennials dream of the days we can be financially independent, and we'd love to see some money for investing and spending start to accumulate in our bank accounts.  But our ambitions go beyond the dollars—they extend to a desire to contribute to the economy and help make America the strong, pride-worthy country that we once were.  Amid the deficit, war and constant political battles, fundamental and physical infrastructures are falling slowly to pieces.  Without jobs, we can't help our country rebuild.

As Jones and McCluskey say:

"Young people and students aren't asking for any special favors or handouts. They just want the same opportunities that the Baby Boomers and other previous generations had: The opportunity to work hard, get an education, make a living and give their kids a better life. In short, a chance to live the American Dream."

Okay, so, we're "screwed over" as Van Jones put it.

What now, then? What do we do about it?

In part, Millennials, we gotta take this on ourselves.  This is new territory for everybody, and we have no choice but to charge into it. And when things don't work out, dust yourself off and try again (if you immediately started hearing Aaliyah's "Try Again" in your head after you read that, you're definitely a Millennial!) As Jones and McCluskey brag on our behalf (thanks, guys), this economic crisis has revealed the Millennials' steadfast attitude—and that we know how to persevere.

Young people have been speaking out more than ever, and it feels like the powers that be are really starting to listen. The Obama administration in particular has been taking young voices seriously, and allowing them a platform to interact with high-level officials who can actually get things done. I saw this firsthand at the National Youth Summit, an event run by the US Department of Education, which brought over 300 middle- and high-school students to Washington D.C. to share their concerns about education with White House and Department of Education staff, including the Secretary of Education Arne Duncan.

At the Summit, Duncan praised the proactive approach that students across the country are taking and said he hoped that we'll continue to mobilize to get our voices heard in a grassroots fashion (watch Alberto Retana, organizer of the Summit and Director of Community Outreach in the Department of Education, talk more about the White House's hopes for young voices in action here). 

To keep the Summit from being a one-off, the White House has launched a "100 Youth Roundtables" initiative, which encourages young people to get together to talk about relevant issues with a promise that a White House official (maybe even President Obama himself) will make an appearance. They also regularly hold online town halls and live discussions on social media sites like Facebook. 

This is not only in line with the technology-driven times; these are also actions that make participation accessible and appealing to my generation, tech-savvy (and tech-dependent) as we are.  Screens, in all shapes and sizes, are how my generation gets our information and how we interact with each other. Whether or not you agree with what they're saying, the fact that our country's leadership—in the administration and in Congress—is using technology in innvoative ways is both refreshing and much-needed.

Heads Up: Briefcase Brigades!

So, we're putting our smarts to action and are ready to be taken seriously. The "perfect storm" of technology, economic crisis and young talent is leading to, among other things, some pretty creative protest. 

On April 27, Millennials around the country will take part in a super cool, youth-led event called the Briefcase Brigades.

Now, Millennials can't get the credit for the whole idea of the Briefcase Brigades—an event in 1970 in which lawyers stormed Washington to argue President Nixon's decisions on the Vietnam War was coined with the same name.  However, this is the first time that a Briefcase Brigade will take the form of a demonstration, and the suits will be worn by cleaned-up, young, unemployed Americans as a symbol of their readiness to be employed but disappointment that jobs are being cut. 

I can just imagine how it will look: Millennials looking all fancy and professional as they demonstrate for jobs.  It'll be a powerful a visual representation of what the economy is missing out on by having an under-employed Millennial generation. 

And while the Brigade won't solve the fiscal problems that our nation is facing, it will make a statement and help ambitious, energetic young people  make connections and get information to stay actively involved. It can spark some fresh new thought about what we need to do legislatively to invest in jobs and the future.  Because guess what, America?  We're all going to have to take action. The Millennial generation IS your future.  Ready or not, here we come.  And we're armed ... with briefcases.

Get all the details on the Briefcase Brigade on the official website and prepare to get super excited about the event from this "trailer":

Note: If you've been paying attention to the date, The Briefcase Brigades are tomorrow. I'll be there looking fancy with camcorder in hand, in hopes of talking to some fellow Millennials about their plans to attack this job crisis with grace and smarts. Here's my follow-up!

I WANT ONE

It's decided, I want one.  The curly tail, the wheezing, the face ... I die.  So cute.

Nothing can top that today, really, so I'm not even going to try.  That is all.

All-Star

I'm so sporty.

As I promised myself I would do, I bought a bike this weekend.  I went the economical way and bought used, and I think scored a pretty good deal.  Can't wait to get my bike on!  Since I like to name things, after I've ridden it a few more times, I will refer to it with a name and as "her" or "him".   Silly it is, but it makes me grow affectionate to my gadgets/modes of transport.  Which, to me, helps me feel better about the money and time I put into using them, and provides for fun jokes.  I have already fondly dubbed my car "Oliver" (/"Lafonda the Honda" when he gets real sassy) and my GPS "Donna", and we tight.

I'm not an athlete.  Anything involving running and balls are great to watch, but getting on a field or court frankly scares the heckle deckle out of me.  So, I did what any sensible girly-girl would do and joined an adult kickball league.  Ha. But I had my first game this week and it was a total blast!   Rules were loose, seriousness was way down, and sportsmanship was all around.  I seriously can't think of a better way of geting out of my comfort zone than mixing the game with friends, a boombox, jorts, and beer. And not only did I play the field for 3 innings, but I also kicked and made it to first base, and we dominated the game 6-1.  Just watch, I'm gonna be a pro by the end of the season.  And I'm going to wear jorts and I'm going to like it!

My involvement in sports greatly heightened my good times this weekend-- after a downtown party for the kickball league last night, I found myself at a DC United soccer game with some teammates. Not only was it a perfect spring night for a game, but the stadium was beautiful and full of devoted fans.  There were painted faces, ginormous flags, and one guy who circled around the upper levels with a bass drum, carrying the rhythm of the entire stadium's cheers.  D-C UNITED! clap clap, clapclapclapclap!  I'm finding a big perk of living in a big city is that there are teams in the major leagues to root for.  What a concept (sorry, Rochester Red Wings ...)!  There was extra excitement for us last night because a high school classmate of friends I was with had been drafted for DC United and started in the game.  Pretty amazing for them to see a friend on the field with the pros, including one particular one.  Oh yes, to my surprise and excitement, playing for last night's opponent, the LA Galaxy, was the only male soccer player I have heard of, obviously because he is uber famous (and hot).  Can you guess?  Why yes, it was DAVID BECKHAM.  Here he is in my stalker-ish photo, thanks to my 12x zoom lense:

*Girly squeal!*  I was way too far up to see any of his specimen-like bod, but it made things a little more exciting nonetheless. At one point, after a rough tumble, he almost started a fight with someone.  Ooo, male aggression.  I was there to support DC United, though, so I was eventually able to tear my eyes away from Beckham to follow the ball (and watch my friends' classmate make some good plays!).  It was a great game, and with a penalty kick in the last minute, DC United tied it up for a draw.  Fans went wild!

And to end the evening of sports, a group of us partook in the most intense, competitive, and skill-requiring game of all:  Catchphrase.  Now that's my kind of game.

Chocobacon, sawed 12-packs, & cupcakes

Food and drink adventures lately:

Chocolate covered bacon lollipops.  I saw it on a menu and I just couldn't NOT try it. I mean, it's two of my favorite things to eat, so it couldn't be too bad.  BF was a little more disgusted by the idea, but he was also brave enough to take a bit.  The verdict for both of us was that it wasn't bad, but wasn't great.  Often when you combine two foods and flavors, something magical happens and it tastes like something new and fun and different.  In this case, however, it really just tasted like bacon dipped in chocolate.  Quite rich, as you can imagine.  But now I can say I've had it.  Many people can't.  Woop!

Drive-through liquor store?  This is a new concept to me, and seems a bit dangerous.  However not as bad as what I've heard exists in Texas, where they apparently have drive-through margarita venues.  Anyways, I did not have the guts to drive through myself, but what I found inside was just as strange.  Instead of a shopping store, as in you go and peruse the aisles and pick out what you want and then bring it up to a register, there was a counter blocked by huge plexiglass wall that spread from wall to wall.  The cashiers (who were all cute little Asian men, by the way) were also behind the plexiglass. They took my order, disappeared into the normal looking rows of liquor, got my beer, and put it in a lazy-susan kind of thing.  I put my cash on one side and twirled it around where he took it and put my bag on his side and twirled it over to me.  It was quite odd and felt like some kind of sketchy drug deal.  And the oddities continued when I opened the bag and discovered that my Yeungling six-pack was a 12-pack Yeungling case sawed in half.  Borderline illegal?  I think so.

DC Cupcakes!  I get so star struck, I was jumping for joy at just seeing the TLC sign in the window of Georgetown Cupcake.  Luckily we were there only a few minutes in the evening before close so we didn't stand in line for long at all.  I must say I was quite impressed with the speed and efficiency in which they took care of orders--a good system except for the immense pressure I felt to pick out six out of twenty-ish cupcakes in three minutes.  It's quite a task, but totally worth it.  Especially for the mint cookie one.  Oh. My.  Gosh.  Heaven in a cupcake.  (We also got red velvet, chocolate, pumpkin and vanilla birthday).  Before and after, perfect for a diptych:

Green tea flavored frozen yogurt.  Tangy, tea-like, refreshingly cold, and sweet considering the oreo crumb and strawberry topping.  Yummy!

And from my kitchen ...  I made tuna patties.  They were delicious and I was so proud of myself!