Terrible Beautiful Days

Something I've noticed is that the worst days of my life are always really beautiful. In movies, when sad or frightening things happen, it's always raining or nighttime. For me, it's just fluffy little clouds and sunny skies. I think this is done on purpose to make me feel more awful and alone.

It's very nice out today.

Grafitti Appreciation

I for one enjoy Monday morning commutes, if only because there is usually a fresh splash of color along the Uptown segment of my ride. The grafitti artists work mostly during the weekend, it seems, and each Monday there are new names and statements and pictures up for my viewing pleasure. The building owners always paint over these with some dull brown, which never looks nearly as good as the art they're covering up. Now I can understand being upset if somebody is tagging gang symbols, or if they're painting up the front of your house. But if somebody comes along and, free of charge and out of the goodness of his heart, decides to beautify an otherwise ugly blank brick wall at the back of your apartment building? That should be rewarded, not destroyed. Technically, I know, it's illegal, but lots of stupid things are against the law. Some of their statements are juvenile ("Suck my nuts"), some are paranoid ("The cops are watching me"), and some are just excuses for color and design experiments. But I like it. Especially on a grey morning, sitting in a metal car being dragged between endlessly xeroxed buildings, it's nice to have a little public art.

Our Economy, or, There's a Three-Inch Stack of Resumes On My Desk

Last week, my boss had me place a classified ad in the Reader for a part-time data entry person. $10/hr, no benefits. As of today, I have received approximately 2395872345 applications for said position. Everyone from burger flippers to phlebotomists to actual legal clerks has applied. I thought the economy was supposed to be improving, but from the looks of my desk, it can't be all that hot. If people with this much education and experience are begging for a shot at $800/month (before the government robs them blind) then I can't see how we could be on the way to anywhere good economically.

And as it turns out, we probably don't even need to hire this extra person, because our business has slowed down dramatically in the past week and shows no signs of turning around.

Academia

This confirms so much about what I always secretly believed about the world of academia. Makes you pine for the good old days (ancient Greece, perhaps?) when people were using their giant brains to figure out useful things like what shape the world was and how your stomach works, instead of figuring out longer and more confusing ways to say "we don't know".

I suppose using your giant brain for a giant prank falls somewhere in between those two goals in terms of usefulness.

Uptown Girl

In a mere two weeks, I will no longer be a resident of the glorious RP. I'll be an Uptown girl. I've rented an apartment just off Argyle in the wake of busting up a perfectly decent boy's heart. Now I have a whole new neighborhood full of crazies to figure out. It's exciting and frightening and all of those conflicted emotions, but basically it's a good (if really tough) decision.

So forgive the sparse posting over the next couple weeks. Eventually, the story will be told.

I Attempt to be Handy

In the world's most basic home-improvement project, I decided to paint a couple of cheap wood bookcases I was given, which were, when I received them, white and yellow. I figured black would be more sleek and sophisticated. I've just managed to get the first coat on them, and I ended up with paint all over my head. I have no idea how this turned out to be such a disaster, but it is, I'm sure, a metaphor for something.

Get On Board

The people of this city may not take to the streets in a mass display of anger over the new CTA service cuts, but they really should. If it was feasible for me to avoid using public transportation, I'd do so, but as a person who can't afford the insane rents near downtown or the increasing cost of owning a car, trains and buses are it for me.

Check out Midwest Unrest's take on this whole issue. They're less concerned about getting the particulars right (they state that the CTA is planning to eliminate the Purple Line, but it's only the Loop Express service that's being cut) than rabble-rousing, but a good dose of rabble-rousing is needed at the moment.

Now I'm debating whether I should ride the El more often, in a show of support for public transportation, or avoid it in disgust at the political machinery behind it.

The Awful Has Only Begun

In addition to feeling like a horrible selfish heartless bitch, I am also now thrown into having to find a new apartment. Anybody have a 1br for under $600 in a safe neighborhood near the El?

Looking for Trouble

In the course of one evening, I visited a Mexican bar, a sleezy motel bar, and a gay bar, and drank beers in each with a well-known trouble-maker, and yet found no trouble.

I must be getting old.

Does This Happen To Everyone?

If you're listening to a really good song... I mean a great song, not just your latest guilty pleasure... whether it's at a show or on your stereo or in your headphones... does your skin start tingling and the little hairs on your arm stand on end and you get a funny floating feeling in your stomach?

Because this happens to me all the time and I only realized today that the sensations created by the great song are strikingly similar to those created by a crush. When I listen to great music, I'm falling in love.

I'm sure I'm about the billionth person to have thought of that, but I only just thought of it for myself, so bear with me.

Something Good Will Come of This

As I noted earlier, I was pretty disappointed in the very non-gonzo way that Hunter S. Thompson decided to go out. So I'm glad to see that his death has some pure good crazy to it.

The Molepeople

I'm not sure if this one will get me in trouble or not:

I noticed recently, on my regular morning trip through the Pedway and the belly of the Courts, that there are two stands, one for newspapers and one for snacks, both part of a community service program, run by blind people. Now, I'm all about community service and helping the blind become self-sufficient, and I'm also intrigued by how well blind people can manage as vendors. But mostly I'm disturbed by the fact that they've shoved the blind people underground, to toil for hours as our mole-man slaves without having any precious sunshine wasted on them.

Fire off those "you horrible, insensitive woman" comments now.