The Myth & The Majesty

I despise the chicken dance. [The stuff of nightmares right here.] This really has little with how I feel about weddings but I think it needs to be said. I hate it. I understand its purpose -- everybody knows it, everybody can dance to it, and by all means, a fairly large part of the population seems to enjoy it. However, it's about five minutes too long. Moreover, I think that after 50-some weddings, of which only six or seven did not have dances following dinner, and probably 75% of which played that song, I'm allowed to hate it. But this chicken dance issue of mine plays to a certain problem that tends to run rampant through weddings, one that has made me say repeatedly that with every wedding I attend my own theoretical wedding gets smaller. [It's gotten so small now that it doesn't even include a groom!] Brides and grooms of the world (particularly the US) -- stop torturing your guests! There are a lot of ways that this happens, but they boil dow...

Let's talk about germs. There has been a massive shift in recent years to an abject fear of germs as a whole. When I was growing up, my mother was not afraid of letting us play in the mud. [I have stories.] We were taught to wash our hands but we were not raised with any fear of getting particularly sick. Mom kept the kitchen clean and encouraged us to help her. Dad ... well, he just wasn't worried about much, except maybe if we got in the way when he was moving something heavy. (Or using a table saw. Which seems fair.)  This is the first time I've ever wanted E. coli.  ThinkGeek is awesome . And believe it or not, we all turned out fine. Or at least we're all healthy. (The rest is admittedly up to opinion.) In the last month, the school in my home district has had a major problem that goes by the name cryptosporidium. For those who don't read about such things for fun [... yeah, definitely up to opinion], crypto is a protozoa (little bug that's b...

I was not an English major. I am not a professional. However. I have spent a lot of time editing other people's papers. It gets disturbing how many run-of-the-mill mistakes are made by truly intelligent people ... and even more disturbing how many "comment thread" mistakes make it into technical papers.   Keep in mind, I'm not overly concerned about the obscure rules. We're talking about things you shouldn't have to look up every time you write a paper. Okay?   With that in mind, I think it's time for a lesson.   One of my favorite "Frazz" moments of all time. (Copyright Jef Mallett - found here .)   An English Primer  for  A Generation That Has Spent Its Free Time On YouTube Comment Threads 1. Capitalization, or STOP YELLING AT ME! Is it a proper name? Is it the first word in a sentence? Is it a title? Is it the letter "I" standing all alone? It should be capitalized. Are you trying to emphasize...

[T his falls into the "rant" category. Wholeheartedly.] As an engineer, half of my job description is in making assumptions. Assuming that heat exchangers perform at a certain efficiency or better, assuming that the waste we're treating is at a nearly constant concentration, assuming that I don't lose more heat than "x" amount going through the piping. Ask any engineer. We live and die by assumptions. They are required for us to do our jobs in any form of non-theoretical, logical, timely manner. That being said, there are times and places for assumptions. Now, what's been alarming me lately are the assumptions people are making about me based simply on my marital status. Just to give you an idea, here are a few of the things I've been told in recent history -- not asked, mind you, but told : 1. I must be bored. 2. I must be lonely. 3. I must be looking for a boyfriend. 4. My "talents" are going to waste. (This one was referring ...

Last night I had dinner with a couple of my married friends before I headed to the B for my usual Friday night "down time." I don't know what it is, but that's the first place I want to go after work on Fridays. It's a little strange, but that's the way it goes. Anyway! I ran into a coworker of mine -- the ever-gregarious Ph.D. with whom I power-mingled at one of the Admiral's parties several months back -- and he asked why I wasn't out exploring the "sizzling hot" Wausau dating scene. That made me laugh. If there's a sizzling hot Wausau dating scene, I sure haven't found it. He asked if I had tried -- and I had to answer that no, I honestly hadn't spent much time looking. This morning proved to be far more interesting than I had anticipated, but I won't get into that. Suffice it to say that, as I sat down with a redeye and a fantastic oatmeal-cranberry bar at Wausau's most awesome coffee shop, I was relieved that my life ...

We never talk anymore. That's not entirely true. I've been a comparative blogging madwoman for the last few months. Half of those posts have even been worthwhile. But I've noticed a trend as of late in my life: I am not talking to people. Instead of eating with my friends, I hole up in my cubicle at lunch. I've all but stopped initiating interesting and thought-provoking conversations. And I haven't been to church in ages, for good (out of town) and bad (overslept) reasons. The bottom line is that I'm becoming more and more of a hermit, and it's getting to be a bit alarming. The truth is -- that's not really me. I love being around people. I love talking to people and hearing what's going on in the lives of my friends ... and complete strangers ... and random acquaintances. Or until about six months ago I did. I'm not sure what happened. I started shutting myself up, physically and metaphorically. It became easier to sit back and zone out than co...

Tonight promises a couple more quality hours with my work laptop, a mowed lawn, a cleaner kitchen, and a load or two of laundry. As long as I can get my butt in gear, that is. Which is mostly required -- in 48 hours I'll be back in Sioux Falls for the weekend. So where is my focus? Where it has been for the last two years -- completely nonexistent. My toy poodle attention span does not lend itself to productivity. It's much better for half-hour TV shows and completely pointless blog entries. And it makes some aspects of life damn near impossible.

Yesterday's post and my current search to replace my old TV (whom I am tempted to name Moby both because it's ginormous and because I have an unhealthy complex about naming inanimate objects) have gotten me thinking about the whole video media thing. When I moved five months ago, I decided I wasn't going to get cable in my new place. There were a couple of reasons ... For one thing, it's too stinking expensive, especially since there's not necessarily anything besides "Law & Order" on at any given time. And while I am occasionally in the mood for "L&O," it's not a 24-hour addiction with me. Also, it seemed silly to spend the money to watch hours of TV on my particular set -- a 25-year-old, 21-inch wood-paneled piece of almost-modern art that magically fits perfectly in the cheap-as-free entertainment center I acquired from an old housemate. The picture flickers, the color sporadically disappears, and the sound sometimes freaks out. A...

It's funny the way things seep into you, soak into your skin and get caught up in your organs. The way places can grip you from the inside out and refuse to loosen. The way people can strike into you and get lodged there, stuck forever. It all sounds so grotesque, but that's what addiction is. And my addiction to the Hills just got a jab when I got a phone call from Missy ... Eleven of my favorite people on the planet, largely those I worked with in the summer of 2004, are together right now at one of my favorite restaurants in Rapid City. All I can think is -- WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING HERE? ?! I knew I missed them. I knew I missed the Hills. I knew that it was going to be hard to be away from Storm again. But until that garbled, short phone call (and the subsequent text messages) I didn't realize just how painful that withdrawal could be. I have to work in the morning, 800 miles away from home in a small fabric-covered cube. There is absolutely nothing about that sentence ...

Mia Sorella sent this to me yesterday, and it was a reminder of why I am more about reformation than most forms of evangelism. While I don't necessarily agree with every single word (most of it, but let's face it, who always agrees with her sister?) I thought this was something you, my faithful and somewhat-faithful readers could contemplate. ----- Yesterday when we did the field study (nine hours in the car going in circles) we got harassed by a pastor. You know me, so you'll understand why this pisses me off. The guy came up to one of my partners when we were walking back to the car. Then he proceeded to "ask" if he could talk to us, but he didn't give us a chance to respond and began to tell us about God. Now, there are plenty of nice ways to try to "save" people, but I wouldn't recommend starting with "If you died today, do you know for a fact that you'll get to Heaven?" I know that's a pretty typical opener. I hate it....

Dear Mass Media (particularly TV): We need to talk. I know it's been awhile since I've paid much attention to you, but you should know that it's not me -- it's you. I disagree with your priorities. While I'd like to pay more attention, I just can't bring myself to do so. If you could fulfill one simple request, I might be more willing to listen. Could you please, please, PLEASE stop talking about Paris Hilton? Please? I mean, she went to jail. I'm not even totally sure what happened, but there wasn't exactly a cry of shock ringing out across the country. Most of us went, "Oh. About time." And then our eyes glazed over as you insisted on talking about it, speculating about it, running the latest update across your news tickers (yes, I'm talking to you, CNN), showing us stock video of her at some red carpet event, and enumerating the events of her life in the last ten years. I don't understand it. She doesn't have a career. She's...