My Computer is in the Hospital

Last night my computer contracted a nasty virus, so two scans and a few tears later, I took it the computer hospital that is the Best Buy Geek Squad.  Hopefully my laptop, and all the photos I've been trying to make time to post, will be all well by Wednesday.  Until then I'm on my work laptop, which of course doesn't have any of my image or writing documents on it.  But, at least it's a nice backup to have. 

Bike Theif Blues

My list of things-to-save-up-for just got longer - my bike was stolen today!  I knew I should have gotten a U-Lock, but they're expensive and I've used a chain lock for four years without issue, and the chain is so much easier to wrap around any random thing I find. 

So, my beloved Trek mountain bike that I got as a graduation present from my master's program is gone.  Thank goodness for renters insurance - for only $11 a month and four years of  price inflation - I'm basically getting the original cost of the bike back after my deductible.  I saw this Linus Mixte bike at The Peddler back when Lennon was buying his new bike, and have not-so-secretly wanted one ever since, so I've got my sights set on it.  It's more than what insurance is giving me, so I'll hold off on it for a bit, but now I know what my next major purchase will be. 

Until then, no more bike trips to HEB, the library, or joy rides around Hyde Park.  Very big frown face.  The jerk who stole it cut my chain off and left it on the ground beside the bike rack at my apartment.  I hope it breaks on him or her.  I feel like this is a huge induction into Austin - I'm a bike thief victim!  That makes me a full fledged citizen.

Identity Crisis + Why My Mop Turns Me On

My blog has a bit of an identity crisis. Or at least according to search engines, it does. But I'm not going to let the mechanics of Google pigeon hole me! When I set out to write a blog, I wanted to incorporate everything that I like so I would enjoy writing it: that includes music, fashion, cooking, (although I've been a lame duck on that one), books, writing, poems... and sometimes the news, which I occasionally glance at.

I often wonder, like a kid in the corner of the cafeteria without many friends, if this blog would be more popular if I picked one genre and stuck with it - like just music stuffs, (although I'm usually the last to pick up on the "it" bands, so I'm not much of a taste maker, more someone who gets really excited and jumps up and down when I see or hear something I like, which is typically after everyone else has jumped ship), or just outfit photos, but doing just outfit photos is boring to me. Granted, I like looking at blogs that are just outfit photos, and I do have an expectation that clothes and fashion inspiration are what I see when I go to those sights, and I go to them because I like them, but it makes me realize that I give potential readers very little expectation when they arrive.  I like to think of this blog as sort of a grab bag of goodies.  (no baddies here!)

So, I can either make it a plan to make my blog popular by focusing my efforts on one genre, then doubling those efforts for more and better content, or I can keep puttering along posting all the things I get excited about.

Hey! Wait! That's my THEME! "Things Amanda Gets Excited About." Maybe I should just rename this blog?

Until then, here's an outfit picture:

and just to keep it eclectic, here's a video:





And if your name is Elizabeth my awesome coworker who brought me Sonic today, or Scott from Little Rock, you'll know why I posted this particular gem.

I also have to share this next video.  I'm going to spend a chunk of my Friday night cleaning, and if you want to know why, Sarah Haskins of Target Women will TELL YOU!  (oh no - feminist humour!  my blog is all over the place!).




I'm seduced by my cleaning products. Who needs men? (again thanks to Elizabeth for that video tip).

Ok, I'm finished feeling silly/procrastinating. My dish sponge awaits. oh-yeah.

Anthony Bourdain on Being Wrong

I consistently have the nagging feeling that I've done everything wrong - I didn't go to the right college, I didn't choose the right major, I didn't take the right career path, I didn't focus with the right intensity, I shouldn't have bought a house so soon, I shouldn't have been so stubborn in that argument, etcetcetc. Too many decisions and too many possibilities often overwhelm my thought process.

My only real peace with this is to tell myself that no matter where I've been or what I've done, I have to focus on actively putting myself on the path I want to be on - sometimes this means getting up earlier than I would like. Getting to write for real publications is the right path - I know this like some people know they have soul mates, or love mashed potatoes. I know I needed to leave Arkansas for a while and be on my own, although the "on my own" part I'm just now getting to.  My biggest regret is not having more confidence when I was younger.  I always thought I was too young to do something well, and as I got older, I thought I was aging too quickly to do anything significant.  I'm learning to shake both of these beliefs.

I'm not the only person who devotes a large part of my thinking to questions about being wrong - Kathryn Shulz of Slate is writing a series of Q&A's about people's relationships with being wrong. Recently she interviewed Anthony Bourdain, and I love him, so I wanted to share a couple of my favorite snippets from the interview.

"Travel has made me more optimistic. I believe now that for the most part, the world is filled with people doing the best they can under the circumstances."

After a whole lot of years in New York kitchens, you're suddenly traveling almost all the time, largely overseas. In my experience, that's an incredibly good way to be wrong pretty much hourly.

It's the most exciting thing about travel to me. You're constantly wrong. You're constantly challenged by your own preconceptions. You're forced to relearn such basic, basic things. Words you thought you knew the definition for become completely changed: the word work, the word hunger, the word generosity. Or you think an entire country's going to be one way and then it's another way. I like being wrong in that respect.



I also had no idea he was a heroin addict, I suppose I should do more biographical research about my few favorite celebrities.  It's nice to know if you can turn your life around from being a hard core drug addict, I can probably make a few positive modifications in my career trajectory and inability to fight nicely so that when I turn thirty I feel a little more confidant in my standing.

Other words that need new definitions: success, need, expectation, love. 

WikiLeaks Iraq Video

Today, while at work, Jonny Stranger showed me the WikiLinks Iraq video of a US military helicopter shooting a crowd of people on a street, presumably because they were all believed to be dangerous.  Adding to the indescribably unfortunate nature of the whole thing, two of the people killed were journalists and two of the injured civilians were children in the front of a van coming to collect the bodies. 

If you've been with me for a bit, you may remember that I'm a huge Dan Eldon fan from this post.  Dan Eldon was also a photo journalist killed in Africa by an angry mob when he was twenty-four years old.  In addition to images, he left behind volumes of art journals that visually depict his travels and experiences.  I find him admirable and inspirational, and I always hope that my life can have an ounce of the meaning and beneficial impact that a life like his had. 

My desire to have a positive impact on the world in some small way is one of the driving forces behind my decision to enter teaching and working with kids.  That, and most of the time, I like kids, (most of the time - mine drive me insane sometimes - today I busted a dice-rolling-gambling circle, little twerps).  My soft spot for children is why this picture moved me when I found it a few weeks ago.

One of the journalists killed in the attack shown on the WikiLinks video was only twenty-two years old, and was known for taking pictures that would break your heart in twelve mega-pixels. 

The New York Times has an article about the video, and a special tribute to the twenty-four year old Reuter's photographer, Namir Noor-Eldeen. 

It takes a special kind of guts to have the audacity to interfere on someone's tragedy with a telephoto lens, and do it so seamlessly that no interference is actually made, except for the one projected on the viewer of the picture, like us. 

I'm in no way anti-military.  I'm an army brat, I have family and friends in the military and in Iraq.  But can we all agree that some things are just wrong?

And the final question is always... what do we do about it?

Spending Time Together: Head to Head

Lennon and I have been going through some couple-strife lately, and one of the things we are trying to do as a remedy is remember things we did for fun when we were happier with each other. 

One of the difficulties in trying to find time to be together is that we are both big on hobbies.  We really don't need anyone else to entertain us during the day, and sometimes we forget to do things together.

I like to work around this by setting aside time in advance as "together" time, whether or not there is a decision on what to do with that time.  Lennon prefers that time come around organically, like, "oh hey!  Let's play chess."  The compromise is when someone wakes up in the morning and says "let's play chess tonight."  Planned time, with an activity we both enjoy. 

I think I can safely say that neither of us is in the mood to break up, but to quote classic phrases, "something's gotta give."  I'm trying to plan (there's that word he hates) a fun Saturday for us to spend together.  Thus far, I have plotted out a morning visit to the farmer's market at the Triangle, swimming at Barton Springs, biking to a coffee shop to read and make fun of each other, and/or a rugby game, then in the evening we are invited to a house warming party in east Austin.  Friday I hope we can go to lunch with some friends and visit the Cathedral of Junk since it's in a bit of legal trouble with an uncertain fate, and I haven't seen it yet, (and there is no school - woot).   

Any suggestions for inexpensive things a sometimes-happy couple can do together?  We argue over the silliest things now.  We are going to have to resolve not to let our building frustrations with each other impact our day. 

In Little Rock, Lennon and I were the connoisseurs of dive bars and 5 a.m. gay dance clubs.  Maybe we need to revisit some old habits?  We've hardly even explored Austin yet, as moving here was so expensive.

Until life stops being expensive, I'm content to play chess at home with smoosh face.

A Cardinal Sin...

Trying to travel down closed roads for some sort of inspiration.  Best to look outward, no?

It's terrible to sit down, look at a blank screen, and think, "my mind doesn't work the way it used to.  It doesn't see things anymore."  I've been slowly rereading my old old Live Journal to help me fall back into the routine of really writing things down like I used to.  The problem with this?  The invocation of self-indulgent memories, the conflict of wanting to have a mindset I used to have without being who I used to be.  Is that possible?  Why does it feel like everything now is about arriving at meetings on time and having enough money to pay the electric bill on time?  Why is there a giant pile of receipts beside me?  Why am I so stuck that it necessitates looking backward at my writing scribbles rather than trying to progress forward?

I think I've had enough for tonight.  I may need to break something to validate this moment, sort of like a Jewish cup smashing?  Maybe?

I found this quote in an entry, I don't even know what this song used to mean to me.





I think the bottom line here, the unspoken thing, that this silly Live Journal, that all of my silly diaries validate, is that I used to be sad.  Sad like a lot of teenagers are sad, but also really sad.  I worry that's offensive to some people.  It shouldn't be.  And I don't ever want to go back to that place again.  It simply bothers me that my eyes seem to see less now than they did then.  I'm not sure when I closed them, if I even did, or why every muscle in my body always feels tight as though I am, actually, squeezing myself shut.  What would happen if I weren't?

Time to stop for the night, as I'm not even sure what story I'm looking for, and I'd like to end it on this:


Friday, September 5th, 2003 
10:35 am - she was losing her mind LONG before the meds began...  

I love my mom //

HomeInTheHills: I'd prefer you not walk alone after dark - don't forget, the nuts are everywhere!
summer long ago: even in our own family
 HomeInTheHills: I prefer to think of us as "interesting" and " amusing"
summer long ago:aha...they go hand in hand
HomeInTheHills: your puppies would say hello, but they are all snoring
summer long ago: thats puppyspeak for hello
HomeInTheHills: well, then, a great BIG hello from the 3 stooges

Valentines Weekend & Relationship Troubles

Lennon and I drove to Dallas today to visit his parents, make good on his long-standing promise to take me to the aquarium, eat at the Spaghetti Warehouse in the West End, and let me do a little indulgent vintage shopping.  I have been missing my computer time with all of the busy-ness as of late - cleaning, mountains of laundry, work, meeting lots of people with the fabulous Elizabeth at Austin's Tweet-Up, getting honey & cream lattes with Michelle, packing, unpacking, packing again, and practicing guitar (I'm playing three songs at Hangtown on the 25th this month - come see me - it's a Boys and Girls Club fundraiser night!).

This is what I wore to work on Thursday, and as much as I love those turquoise flats, my feet froze when it started pouring glacial rain!

Jeans: Citizens
Flats: Indigo via Buffalo Exchange
Black tank: Wal-Mart
Orange tank: Target
Cardigan: mall boutique in Little Rock
Necklace: Etsy

Lennon and I have been having some troubles that, while not new, are rising to alarming heads due to frequency.  As sad as this makes the cloud around Valentines Day, we are planning on him staying here in Dallas for a few days when I go back to Austin to take a mini-break from each other, (and hopefully realize how much we miss one another).

We have had lots of conversations about how to better communicate before problems become arguments, but of course behavioral changes are difficult.  While the arguments are often harsh - neither of us fight nice - they offer a chance for difficult but necessary character reflection.

What have you done to help get through rough patches in a relationship?  Our relationship tends to move in extremes: it is either intensely positive or intensely negative.  I would like to find a method for balance, not just for our relationship, but for the experience of smoother days, emotions, etc. 

The petty news about this: I'll have to invest in a tripod while he's gone, or find a shelf at a handy height, as he's my prized photographer.

The good news is: we are determined to enjoy the remainder of our weekend and follow through with our trip plans.  Luckily, when removed from the external stress of daily life, we don't fight.

More good news: it's figure skating season!  I LOVE figure skating.

Michelle Kwan: world's most beautiful lady?  Surely she's a contender, (Lennon votes Lady GaGa).

Also - Amy at Ha. Ha. Wait, What? sent me this really sweet award:

I'm going to pass this along to Lauralee, who has a shiny new blog called Martinis and String Bikinis.  I love you, cousin!

Why I Will Not Play Antones

How did February 1st sneak up to be right around the corner?  Little buggar.  I was none-to-pleased to find this email in my in box today from my teacher (who is awesome even though I'm not - it was a beginner class, cut me some slack!):

"hey pretty ladies! I'm super pumped about the big show monday night; here are some things to know:

y'all need to be there by 6:30, por favor.  doors aren't officially open until 7, so unfortunately husbands, friends, adoring fans, etc. can't come in until at least 7 so if you ride together you may have to kick them over to lavaca street for a pre-show drink. or make them wait in the car.

I made up a fancy facebook invite:

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?invites&eid=272729499825

if you click on "invite people to come" under the logo all your friends will pop up.  if you click "share" it will post it to your profile.  part of the fun of playing at a kickass place like antone's is the enormous pressure to fill the ding dang place up... [etc] ...also we'll be followed by guilty pleasures, a really fun all-girl cover band.

let me  know what questions you have! you're all gonna rock and you're all very pretty!"

Fill the place up!?  No siree!  There are names for people like me:

1) She-who-needs-more-practice
2) Shake-n-Bake.  (This is why I don't read at poetry slams).

What do you do when you're scared of something, especially crowds?  I have prescription anti-anxiety medicine.  Seriously.  I used it on the few occasions I slammed/competed last year.  But that's probably not the best solution.

Oh faceless internet anonymity, how I love you in terms of being way too personal.  (Sometimes.)

The Bicycle-Skirt Dilema

Sometimes I worry Lennon and I are too on the same page.  I've had the skeleton of this "skirts + bicycles" post up and ready for completion since I finished breakfast and left for work, and then I came home to find Lennon espousing the never-before-realized joys of cut off denim shorts on Facebook - all because of his new love for bicycles!  He has a pair of terrible cut-off denim shorts that look like something Huck Finn would wear if he had been alive and playing hookey circa 1970.  Lennon then posted this picture, with a note apologizing to hipsters of the world for all of the flack he's given this hipster-favored look in the past:

Really?  Really?  I am not a fan.  But I can't say that girls don't have the same problem with pants when riding bikes.  I discovered that pants and bicycle chains don't play nice together the hard way, when a gear shredded the bottom half of my linen pant leg.  I still have a vendetta against that bike...                                                                        

Europeans know what's up in terms of practicality meeting fashion, though.  It's not uncommon to find bicycles overseas with large "skirt guards," or if you're male, ahem, "coat guards," for the long tail coats they wear in winter.  Why aren't these prominent in the US?  A company in California has started selling them, and they are quite cute!

The Dutch tulips seem appropriate for a European-inspired bicycle, and the cultural fusion of tulips with cowboy boots is a nice Texas touch, if I do say so.

Both of these images are from Cycle and Style, possibly my new favorite website.  You can see these bikes even have a chain guard so pants don't have to be rolled up.  And if it was a mens bike, the cut-off denim short would not be necessary - hoorah!  Now if only I could find a way to make heels go with my mountain bike, the "bone crusher," it could be an all-occasion ride.

I can't tease Lennon too much, though.  Because I've given the same amount of flack to the tights-with-shorts look, and guess what I've discovered?  It's the perfect ensemble to wear when biking on a cool day!  No ripped or rolled up pants leg, no chill bumps, and no problems.  I just might be converted, so in all fairness, Lennon can keep his Huck shorts without fear of my tossing them stealthily in the dumpster out back, as I've oft considered doing.

Boots: Steve Madden (clearance, yay!)

Tights: Target

Shorts: Target

Lace tank: White House Black Market

Pink shirt: Michael Stars

Cardigan: Banana Republic, and pilled to shreds.

Scarf: from Spain

Locket: from my grandma's dresser

Ring: Target

Lunch break over - back to work!  It's terrible to have a window-less office on a PERFECT day like this is.  At least I can walk about outside once programs start after school. 

The Trouble With Time & Setting Schedules

Now that the holidays are over, the hard part of keeping New Years Resolutions comes into play.  I'm going to post three versions of my schedule, and see if I can figure a way to rectify them in to a desirable, productive, healthy routine:

Typical Schedule One, Pre-Holiday:

10:00am: wake-up, breakfast (unless I had a 9AM meeting).
11:00am: shower, dig through laundry I never fold to find matching socks, mascara.
12:00pm - 8pm: work.
8:00pm: home, grump at my work-from-home roommates if they made a mess, read books or the interwebz for 1 -2 hours.
9/10pm - 2am: any combination of the following - blogging, movie, guitar, board games, or cobbled together dinner because it's "too late to cook."

Schedule Two, Holiday:

11:00am: wake-up, turn on computer for the blog-o-sphere and NY Times.
2:00pm: shower
4:00pm: go out in the world.
8:00pm: cook dinner
9/10pm - 3am: any combination of the following - blogging, movie, board games, and possibly Walgreens runs for chips and salsa.

Schedule Three, in which I incorporate all of the things I resolve to do:

7:00am: wake-up, run.
8:00am: shower, breakfast.
 9:00am- 10am: google reader
10:00am - 11:00am: read an actual book
11:30am: pack incredibly healthy lunch
12:00pm - 8:00pm: work
8:30pm: cook healthy dinner with pre-planned and pre-bought ingredients.
9:30pm: blog for next day
10:30pm: movie, guitar, board games or working on my brand new UFO club membership.
11:30pm: work on other writing projects
12:30am: sleep.

Aside from the fact that at least twice a week I have meetings in the morning, the real problem with following this ideal schedule is the amount of time I enjoy spending in bed.  It also doesn't help that I do not transition well from one task to the next.  Ask Lennon how long it takes me to get out of the car after we pull up anywhere.  So perhaps the only two resolutions I need are the following:

1) Don't sleep so much.
2) Don't waste time between one task and the next.  I'm looking at you, Facebook!


Way easier said than done!  I'd be very open to taking advice on how to motivate myself out of bed in the morning, and how to shuffle myself quicker between projects.  My inability to transition is one of the reasons I'm a less than punctual person - which is terrible professionally, (my friends hate it too). 

I also plan to stop wearing jeans and t-shirts to work - I probably look like one of the kids!  This skirt is my favorite of all time - elastic waist, so I never feel fat, and swirly. 

Skirt: Forever 21
Cardigan: Old Navy
Tank top: Wal-Mart
Apple locket necklace: Francesca's (can you tell I loved being a teacher?  Just not waking up!)
Brooch: my grandmother's
Mary Janes: Nurture from Dillards

What I really need is one of these:

Last challenge to worry about: how to ride my mountain bike more when resolved to wear skirts!?

Urinetown & The Day The Water Stopped, Plus Happy Eggs for Good Measure

It's true that a person can never plan for anything, as there's usually a wrench to come along and interrupt whatever we had previously planned out.

For example: yesterday, after work, (I had taken a few of my girls on a field trip to see Precious - more on that later), I wanted to come home, do a bit o'blogging, make smoked gouda macaronni and cheese, and go see the Girl Guitar showcase at Antone's.  Instead, I came home to learn that a water pipe had broken under our apartment and the water was shut off indefinitely, but would not be on any sooner than the following afternoon. 

Excuse me!? 

No running water for ten minutes or more = post-apocalyptic conditions to me.  I'm a neurotic germaphobe who must wash her hands no later than five minutes after walking in the door, and the idea of no flushing toilets in a house with two boys sounds... ghastly, and I had no drinking water for myself or the dog.  Plus teeth brushing?  Showering in the morning?  Straight, fine hair like mine does not tolerate a day without washing.

To further my neurosis, I started pondering the possibility of a waterless future and how terrible it will be the day that there's never again going to be fresh water coming out of the tap.  If you've been around this blog a bit, you may remember that I've talked about water worries before.  At Nolanville Elementary, way back in the fourth grade, I wrote a short story called "The Day The Water Stopped" about a town's water source getting clogged by trash and a Sand Lot-esque young man saving the day with a huge recycling project.  (So if you're wondering, yes, I've always had a granola mentality). 

But not being one to sit around and fret, (too much), I did the only reasonable thing: packed my bag, packed the dog, packed the boy, and went to my dad's house in Copperas Cove for the night.

What could be better than a spontaneous road trip that comes with a Taco Bueno stop, Zeigenbock six packs from a gas station, movie marathons in a home theatre room (hello! where was this when I actually lived at home?), sleeping in, waking up to the doorbell at 10AM and a man saying he's there to fix the sprinkler system and needs to turn the water for the house off....

Um, what!?  I fled Austin to find a house with running water, and here, at the threshold of my water asylum, was a man telling me he needed to turn the water off before I'd even had a shower.  Fate is cruel! 

Luckily, he wasn't, and he agreed to wait an hour, giving me time to enjoy the shower I'd driven 1.5 hours to get, (3 hours round trip). 

Stressful indeed, but at the end of the day, happy eggs at Egg Town restaurant made everything better. 

Although, my post-apocalyptic-no-water-nightmare has already been fully realized in the musical Urinetown.

In the show, water is scarce, so in order to ration the supply, a large corporation charges the citizens a per-pee fee in a public restroom, and renegade pee-ers are hauled off to the mysterious Urinetown where they are never seen again.  Hysterical and grim, I offer up the opening musical act, and encourage watching to at least the 2:50 mark. 

A Thorn & A Rose: The Austin Snow Fail + My Own Domain Name!

All last night and this morning, I have been praying as though a hurricane were about to slam into the coast of Texas so hard it would jar Austin three feet to the right.  Tennyson may have said that "more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of," but gosh darn it Tennyson, there was NO SNOW when I woke up this morning.  The only snow I did see was tainted by sun light, which meant the few precious flurries were to be short lived and futile. 

I like my job, don't get me wrong, but what is better than an unexpected day at home, where your main objective is to stay warm and not go outside?  Maybe I should become a mountain hermit, I believe they have similar goals.

Regardless of the weather man's bucket-o-fail prediciton, I'm happy it's cold.  And last night was First Thursday on South Congress, and poor Mr. Lennon had to canvas people for his new job out on the harsh, windswepped sidewalk.  Feeling compassionate, I went by Starbucks when I got off work at 8PM to pick up a large, black coffee (even though he says Starbucks should really be called char-bucks) for him, and a spiced chai tea for myself.  I had grandiose plans to present him with the surprise visit and beverage, thus making his evening brighter. 

If he'd had a phone, I would have known that he actually left South Congress at 8PM, and I wouldn't have had to walk up and down up and down clutching my two cups sadly to my chest, never finding him.  My mittens are now coffee stained.  It's ok, though, because it gave me an excuse to stare at all of the people as I scanned crowds for him, and I love people watching and peering into shop windows.

On that high note, my other big and wonderful piece of news is:

I registered for my own domain name!  If you have my page bookmarked or coming to your feed reader, please update the link to www.dishevelledstars.com

I figured I could spring for the $10 it took to stake my claim in the cyber world, but my readers - whether few and far between or hiding in the shadows - would make the purchase worth its cost if all relevant channels to this site were updated.  Thank you thank you!

Rio Rita + A Few Tips On How to Tip a Waiter

The first place I ever went in Austin was Rio Rita, near 6th street in East Austin.  This, of course, is if I don't count the few trips to Highland Mall I've made with my step-sisters on our regular day-after-Christmas-pilgrimage to Austin for the past few years that we've been a family.  Rio Rita was my first night out in Austin, where I met Eirik before going to watch him host the weekly poetry slam down the street at the Scoot Inn.     

The website claims that it is a "swanky lounge" at night, and this is an accurate description.  I really didn't feel cool enough to be there, nor have I ever since then, but the bloody Mary's (also known as mini-salads) are so damn good that I'm going to keep wearing my hipster cloak so I can sneak in.  If I could present the drool that just filled my mouth when I typed out the words "bloody Mary" as evidence, then you'd know that Pavlov didn't lie, and neither do I.  They are fan-freaking-tastic, but will burn you like a scorned ex-girlfriend, so chase it with water if you're a wimp like me. 

In thinking about restaurants, I wanted to post a few notes about proper tipping etiquette, as I don't feel these rules have been shared with enough people.  When I made my first trip to Rio Rita, I was surviving off my tips as a waitress at the Killeen Bennigan's, since I'd left my job of teaching high school kids to read real good so that I could move here.  And when I say "surviving off tips," I really mean stuffing my pockets with nickels so I'd make a cool jingly sound when I walked, then bumming actual dollars off my friends and family so I could eat, (thanks guys). 

So, in the spirit of the holiday season, exorcise your inner scrooge, and follow my tipping guide to make sure that you aren't short-changing any of the gracious wait staff you encounter at your favorite eateries:

Rules for Tipping Like You Care About Human Life:

1) Tip 20%.  This is not difficult to figure out.  10% = moving the decimal place over ONE SPOT.  For example, if your bill is $17.83, then 10% is $1.78.  Now double this to get 20%.  And if you either don't know how to add in your head, or want to double insure that you aren't a jerk, then ROUND UP to the next whole number.  So your final tip should be either $3.60 for the thrifty diner, or man up, and tip a full $4.00.  That waiter probably spent at least an hour tending to your table.  Don't you think he or she at least deserves 4/hour for their time?

2) TIP FOR THE WHOLE BILL.  Not the discounted bill.  Not minus what you sent back.  Not the cost after coupon.  So this rule should be broken down into three parts:

         a) You didn't like something and the cost was deleted.  Tip as if the price were still on the bill.

         b) You ordered something and exchanged it for something else.  That's double the work.  And in both this scenario and the one above, your server has to track down the manager, display the rejected dish, explain the reason for the send back, get the manager to delete the charge from the bill, (tracking down a manager can be like hunting wildabeasts in New York), explain to the cooks what was wrong, wait on the new dish in neglect of other tables so it can be brought back ASAP, and then the waiter must be really apologetic as though it were their fault you didn't like the dish they had no hand in making. 

        c) You had a coupon.  20% off.  Kids eat free.  Whatever.  Tip as though you didn't have it. 

3) Keep in mind that your waiter is not: the cook, the bar tender, or the manager.  Your waiter has no control over how long the food takes to make, how it tastes, or how long it takes for your drink to come up at the bar.  Do not punish the waiter because the kitchen staff and/or bar staff is slow. Note: it is also not the waiter's fault if the dishwasher quits at the beginning of shift, and no food can come out until all of the backed up dishes have been cleaned so there's a fresh plate to serve your dinner on.

4) At most restaurants, your waiter will tip out the host, the kitchen staff, and the bussers.  That means that 3% of your $4 tip does not stay in his or her pocket.  Most hosts only get this 3% as their pay.  I once busted my butt filling in as a host for a four hour shift and only made $20.  Mad?  Indeed I was.  Let's not even talk about how much my master's degree cost.  $20 bucks for four hours?  Grumble grumble.

5) $5 is not the universal tip for a large bill.  Don't look at your $45 dollar bill and think that throwing down a fiver is decent compensation because five bucks to you seems like a lot of money.  Do the math.  20%. 

Eirik accusing me of leaving dishes in the sink at home.  This is why we eat out.  And tip well.  Dirty dishes are gross, especially other people's.

The XX & Friendly Fires at Mohawk, with NO Holly Miranda

Dear Holly Miranda,

I bought tickets to two bands I'd never heard of just to see you play solo.  It's been too long since I saw the Jealous Girlfriends perform at Juanita's in Little Rock.  But then, heartbreak of all heartbreaks, you cancelled.  And I did not realize this until 10PM, after standing smushed as marbles in a kid's back pocket for an hour, when a band came onto the stage that, alas, was not you.  You Tube has been my only consolation since Thursday.  But don't worry.  I am not a fair weather fan, and I'll be front row, (or fourth), the next time you come through town.  Just - please don't cancel again, as next time I might cry.

A little You Tube therapy.

The non-Holly band that came on was The XX, and while I am enjoying thier mellowness in the quiet, calm space of my living room while wearing polar pear pajama pants and thinking about sleep, it was not an exciting enough stage show to merit staying cramped on the lower deck of Mohawk.  Plus, even though I was front stage right, I couldn't see 1/3rd of the band, because the girl was standing behind a speaker.



Ater going upstairs to sit down, I started checking twitter on my phone, and saw that Austin Bloggy and ATXhipsters were both tweeting the show, and one had been right beside me on the deck, and the other was right in front of me on the upper level. 

I kept trying to figure out who was tweeting during the show, but it was actually much darker than this picture makes it look.  Overcast skies make for a great lighting backdrop.

Lennon is not nearly the fan of mellow music that I am, so if I was annoyed by the cancellation of the set I came to see, which was only aggrivated by being bored with the string of songs featuring the Am chord, then it's easier to imagine his level of boredom.  But, he's a good sport, and beer makes everything better.

The Friendly Fires reminded me of the 80's clashing with a disco roller rink.  Every butt in the venue was suddenly on a pendulum, and shook back and forth, back and forth. 

I can't take credit for the above two pictures - I was standing on the stairs, peeking around the corner, as it was the only place I could a) get enough height to see over the crowd and b) not have to fight the impermeable line of people clinging to railings for a vantage point.  So Lennon, being the skinny giant that he is, waded into the fray to take a few pictures for me.

I did take this one.  I watched the Friendly Fires through the frame of a plant.  Then we left, and went to Magnolias for mud dip.  That was when it started to pour.  Good timing.

Dropouts More Likely To Become Incarcerated... WHO KNEW!?

Oh New York Times, I love you, so very very much. But really? You have to support people who get paid to conduct common sense studies? Or maybe this comes as a shock to people outside of the education sphere... if this is true then please correct me. Otherwise, please tell me why university researchers are spending their time proving that high school drop-outs are more likely to end up in the slammer.

I'm very frustrated at work right now, because I have a young man who has been bounced around schools, and for whatever reason, has to do twenty hours of community service by October 14th (less than a week away) or he goes to juvenile hall. He came to me begging for opportunities to complete these hours.... yesterday. So I wrote up a schedule of ways he could get twenty hours from the club between now and then. Right away I set him up serving the free dinner we offer to the kids. Ten minutes later I turn around, turn back, and he's playing ping-pong, and has decided he doesn't care and will just go to juvenile hall. And in my position, the most threatening thing I can say to him is that I'm going to call his mom and discuss his decision with her, although I'm sure she's aware of his attitude by this point, considering that juvenile hall is the next step in his city mandated disciplinary proceedings. I smack my forehead. A lot.

Dear Northeastern U., please hire me and give me grants. I will give you first hand insight into high school strugglers and drop-outs, no survey needed. K,thanks.

Sidra Stone and Snapping

I'm getting close to finishing The Shadow King by Sidra Stone, and I'm beginning to realize how much it's getting under my skin, in (I hope) a positive way.

This morning I had to get up early because the pastor of the church I have been attending was coming over to do introductions and discuss membership. I had asked my roommates to pick up their messes before morning arrived, because I don't like the idea of a guest walking into a dirty space. Especially a small dirty space, because that makes the gross ten times more prominent. And gross, by definition to me, includes plates with food stuck on them in the sink, magazines laying around, dog hair forming colonies on the couches and in corners, etc. So when I came down stairs this morning, I was immediately disgruntled when I found the sink full, copies of the Austin Chronicle on an arm of the love seat, the garbage can's contents literally spilling out onto the floor, and a few particles of dust strewn about.

My immediate reaction to such a state is to get resentful and upset - first, I don't like feeling as though keeping the apartment sanitary is my duty simply because I'm the only one who enjoys cleanliness a few degrees higher than everyone else present, and then I especially hate the idea of a guest walking in and judging me/us by a messy, dog-odor infused apartment. This merited me snapping at a roommate, words were exchanged, I got mad and stormed upstairs.

I started thinking about it, and realized that it's not just the guest being here that worried me about the apartment's state, because I always like it clean. And aside from preferring clean by character, I see the state of the apartment as a reflection of my own hygiene and level of responsibility, as though a messy apartment means that I am a lazy, negligent care taker who probably doesn't bathe. When I realized that I should not see the apartment as a reflection of my own ability to be a good, well-kept girl, I relaxed.

Then I heard the sound of running water and glass dishes clanking as someone scrubbed them in the kitchen, and I relaxed even more. An exterior mess is not indicative of an inner mess, nor does it demonstrate my inability to maintain feminine responsibilities, because cleaning is not solely feminine responsibility in a shared household. Perhaps next on my reading list should be a copy of The Second Shift.

Banksy & Hope

Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.

- John le Carre

It is part of my Bookpeople visit tradition to stop in the art section and browse the graffiti artist compilation books, and it was on one of these visits that Lennon pointed out the graffiti artist that everyone else in the world is apparently familiar with but me - Banksy. I've never really been interested in graffiti art until my friend from high school, Lee, began doing stencil art pieces that I liked because they looked both beautiful and complicated, which I had never noticed before in my prior dismissals of graffiti art. I wish I could unwire the part of my brain that immediately dismisses everything at first glance, I miss a lot of things because of this.

I've gained a renewed interest in graffiti art since bringing in a program vendor to the after school program I am a co-director of - a vendor called S.O.U.L. Sessions (Strengthen Our Urban Legacy), who, in addition to bringing in break dancers, beat boxers, and free style hip-hop artists (all foreign to me), works with the students on graffiti art. And not tips on tagging, but large, beautiful pieces.

The frustrating fact of my job is that very few of the remaining students at the school (it's AYP 5 - "academically unacceptable"), are not interested in very many things, at least not that I have been able to tell or tap into. Like teaching, my afternoons out of the office and in the club with the kids are very rollercoastery - yesterday was terrible, with disrespect, talk-back, rule disregarding, poor program attendance, etc, while today was much better, with our girls-only group that discusses relationships and abuse having a large turn out of eight, and two boys challenging me to games of pool - which in my job, is a huge deal. Nonetheless, it has been the academic equivalent of Sisyphus to encourage kids to participate in enrichment programming like S.O.U.L. Sessions and the other really amazing (and I mean amazing) vendors we have contracted to come into the school to teach kids (fun things - like film making, slam poetry, Capoeira... etc).

Yesterday a student started snapping and cussing at me for asking to see his attendance wrist band, and it shook me the same way confrontation did in my classroom my first year of teaching. It is very different to interact with students I do not see for an hour every day in a studious environment. I still don't know most of their names, and my authority reaches no further than telling a behavior case that they need to leave and can't come back for X number of days. My co-worker has promised to bring me a short book to read about the psychology of children who grow up in poverty - about the survival mechanisms employed by some kids, a subject utterly foreign to me, and thus renders me unsure of how to react or handle some situations. I'm not new to urban schools, but this stint is completely different from anything I've tried before, and it's certainly trying my resolve some days.

After yesterday's encounter with the one belligerent boy and the other issues we had, it made me very happy to see this tattoo posted on Contrariwise with the tagline "there is always hope."

This, of course, led me on a scavenger hunt across the internet looking at Banksy pieces and stories, realizing that I've been, perhaps, the only person out of the loop until now, (which is not that unusual). I find it odd that people "buy" his pieces, since he's quoted as saying: “Any advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours, it belongs to you. It’s yours to take, rearrange and re-use. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.”

This quote resonated in my head and I thought of all of the images and information that I'm confronted with everyday, whether or not it is by choice - even the check-out belt at the grocery store register has advertisements printed on it that scroll as I set my groceries on top of them. It's tiresome to recollect all of the colors and text that are thrown at my eyes all day. It's even more tiresome to try and get some students to realize this - I taught propaganda when we read Night in my sophomore English classes, and it always reminded me of the anonymous quote: the fish is the last one to see the water. This in turn reminds me of that meditation practice I've been putting off...

When I got home I attempted to insist on vacuuming, but was informed I needed to stop moving and lay down to rest for thirty minutes. Thirty turned into two and a half, and it's time I should return, since I only got up to eat a dinner of cheerios, about an hour ago.

The Jealous Girlfriends: Secret Identity. This seems appropriate after writing a few lines about Bansky. Plus, I just love them.

Lake Front Property

My apartment has become lake front. It has also started sinking, considering that the back doors have three leaks forming nice puddles on the floor, and no answer on the "emergency" maintenance line provided by my property managers. I love rain, but not in the house. Perhaps Austin should invest in better drainage systems for it's fluke (that I've seen) mini-monsoons. Or I could lay back on the couch and pretend that the incessant drip-drop sound on the hardwood floor is a soothing noise machine attempting to mimic rain-on-the-roof melodies, which one does not get on a ground floor dwelling. I do have a new book to read...

Stop it.

This is my heart.