"I'm real sorry your mom blew up, Ricky."

That's the line that reminds me of my all-time favorite comedy. Most people I know who've seen the film know it better by a simple pair of words: "TWO DOLLARS!"

I'm referring to the film Better Off Dead, which has not only been the most enjoyable dark comedy I ever saw, but also the first dark comedy I ever saw.

So, in honor of the ultimate dark teen romantic comedy, I wanted to mention a couple other films that probably snuck under most peoples' radar when they were first made. One that's a little more serious than the aforementioned John Cusack classic is Dominic and Eugene, and today's other recommendation is an oft-forgotten comedy from the Brothers Coen called The Hudsucker Proxy.

I don't want to say too much about any of these three movies, mostly because I walked into all three without any clue what to expect and I think that only added to my enjoyment, though I know people who have thoroughly enjoyed them, even after being exposed to a certain amount of hype about them.

This is just a short list of three films, but more are popping into my head as I write, but I'll leave them for another time. (Or you could comment with some suggestions of movies that you think have been under-appreciated.)

I usually take part in the alternative custom of buying nothing on Black Friday, but yesterday there were a couple exceptions. One was the purchase of sorely needed shoes, and the other was three dozen apple cider doughnuts from The Market at Styer's Orchard just down the road from me. I only bought the shoes because the last pair seemed to have spontaneously self-destructed the other day, and I had to go into work for a few hours last night.

I took the cider doughnuts in to work with me, because on days that are holidays (for everybody except a skeletal crew in my department) there are only a dozen or so people there, and even after nine years, I'm still trying to make friends at work. Apple cider doughnuts are good for this, because people who've never had them, even people who are determined not to like them, almost always fall in love with them. Then they ask for the next several months when I'm going to bring in more cider doughnuts, but not wanting to spoil them (or contribute too much to anyone else's poor health), I generally only bring them in once in a blue moon.

Styers Orchard has made and sold these cider doughnuts for about fifteen years or so. When they first started making them, they only made a few dozen a day and the price was a quarter a doughnut. Now they often make several trays full of them and sell them for about four dollars a dozen (I'm not up on the individual price). Though not well-known, they're quite popular to those who are familiar with them, and I've noticed that even though there are other places that have marketed doughnuts under the name "Apple cider doughnuts", they rarely taste the same anywhere else. I've loved them since my own misspent youth, but I generally don't go near them more than once or twice a year these days, mostly for health reasons.

The hours spent working last night were brief, and having dispensed two dozen cider doughnuts into the hands of various co-workers, I left work with a dozen to spare. I knew it wasn't a good idea to carry them all the way home, where they would eventually become an irresistibly unhealthy temptation. So as I drove home the long way in freezing temperatures, I passed by the local turnpike interchange, where ten or so striking employees were picketing in the cold. I decided to turn around and see if anyone was hungry.

As I pulled up to the picket line and parked, a few of them looked my way, probably to see if I was one of their co-workers. I got out of the car with a white box of doughnuts in my hands and said hello. I introduced myself and asked if they wanted some apple cider doughnuts.

I've been a union member for over nine years now, but this was the first time I'd ever approached another union's picket line and offered food to picketers. I recalled my mother once bringing coffee to some picketers once or twice, but I'd never done that sort of thing -- I had visions of people getting suspicious of me, thinking I was trying to lure them with poisoned doughnuts. But they were very friendly -- trusting and appreciative, too.

As I talked to a few of them, cars drove by, to and from the turnpike toll booths, some honking and waving to show support; others just drove by ignoring the strikers, and some even shouted and gestured toward the picketers in less friendly terms. I wondered how many of the people driving by had any idea why the strike was taking place. I wondered this mainly because the local news media doesn't really give much coverage to the situation, despite the amount of people who are being affected by it. And the coverage that is available is so vague that it's impossible to be truly informed if that's all you know of the situation.

After several minutes, and a seeming drop in my body temperature, I bid them farewell, shivered my way back to my car, which was (thankfully) still warm, and I made my way home, unlike my new friends, who carried signs, waved good night and ate apple cider doughnuts.

"Miniver Cheevy" by Edwin Arlington Robinson

-a poem that I first studied in junior high or high school, about how we sometimes obsess over and over-romanticize the good old days.

I'll spare you the long list of things for which I am tremendously thankful, and I'll hope that on this day we're all keenly aware of each blessing and gift we've been given.

And if you're not the early-morning-shopping-spree type, you should be especially grateful to not find yourself in that mad rush tomorrow morning...

Incidentally, I was thinking about going to a seafood place in the near future, and I was trying to think of a place that serves a good squid. Then I wondered how old are the squid they serve in an average seafood joint? And is there a squid equivalent to veal? If so, are there any other dishes that involve the cooking of a nascent mollusk?

That's all for now.

"Seems like it's always understood this time of year."
-Better than Ezra

Since I have no pressing ideas to put forth quite yet this morning, I'm taking to the site statistics again, as I sometimes do when I'm bored. One visitor happened upon my site yesterday by querying Ask Jeeves about the title of the debut album from Better than Ezra. Just in case that visitor should try again with his or her search, I've decided to answer the question directly.

The title of Better than Ezra's debut album is Deluxe. Released in 1995, it is a fine musical album, and in my estimation, probably the most consistent effort they've put forth to this point. Some of the songs are deceptively dark, and those ones are among my favorites, but there aren't many on Deluxe that aren't on my good list. For instance, "Rosealia" is about the most festive-sounding song you'll ever hear about a female in an abusive relationship. Then there's "The Killer Inside" and "Porcelain", which bring their own strains of morbidity to the listener. Dark subjects or not, these are three of my favorite Better than Ezra songs ever.

Of course, the CD isn't all darkness. I also really like the album's lead-in "In the Blood", as well as "Southern Girl" and most of all, the album's second to last track, "This Time of Year."

But enough of outdated music reviews for now. I just figured since someone was looking for it, maybe I'd write about it briefly.

Writer's block and the best policy

It seems the only words I've been able to write the last couple days have been academically motivated.

I actually have many topics on which to opine right now, but nothing I try to put down, on the screen or on paper, is coming out the way I'd like. It's starting to bug me a little. And then there's this:

Someone recently told me s/he didn't want to tell me something because I'm too sensitive, and s/he didn't think I could handle it. Or maybe it was more that s/he didn't feel capable of handling my response to what needed to be said. It's the second time recently (in the past week) that someone has tried to explain not saying something that should have been said; one instance was personal, one was professional, and in both instances, I've been much more annoyed by people not giving me the truth than by learning of the truth they tried to withhold. The personal instance is more troubling than the professional one, if only because I'd like to thing people I let into my inner circle would be more trusting than that.

I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but it seems to be a recurring theme, and it always irritates me that people underestimate me in this way. I actually could handle the truth, if only somebody was willing to offer it.

"Your love is teaching me how to kneel."
-U2

I'll start by saying I am a U2 fan. Have been for more than half life. I've long maintained that however skeptical a person is of U2 as a music act, the first time you get to hear a song like "Pride (in the name of love)" or "Bad" live and in person at a U2 concert, you'll be inexplicably disarmed. The reason, if I have to guess, is that they are a rare mix of star power and deeply felt emotion. In short, they connect with people. Apparently, they connect with more people in more places than just about any other music group ever has. I am one of those folks who has already ordered the forthcoming album How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, which is due out this coming week.

Having said that, I am happy to report that I am currently listening to the new album. I accidentally discovered a Glutter post this morning that points to NME.com, where you can listen to the album online. It's been available in various places for preview listening for a while, or so I hear from more alert fans than myself, but I thought I'd point it out for any other interested parties who haven't read it somewhere else first.

My opinion's not yet formed, but in another half-dozen songs, I'll have the first listen out of the way.

"Beauty is all very well at first sight; but who ever looks at it when it has been in the house three days?"
-George Bernard Shaw

I was thinking more about materialism, and it occurred to me that perception seems to be the biggest perpetuating force behind our culture of "having".

How many times have you judged someone based on superficial criteria? If you are of a dating mindset, how many times have you passed up approaching someone you were considering talking to simply because you noticed some physical flaw? What about because of the clothes a person wore or the car they drove?

Have you ever seen a couple walk by and wondered how one person could be happy with the other, vis-a-vis one person looks much more "beautiful" than the other, or perhaps when neither person strikes you as being very attractive? I will confess I have, but it's been a while, and the last time it happened, I probably didn't have a very sophisticated understanding of adult relationships.

I was confronted by a disturbing statement from a friend of mine who lamented that good looking people always seem to end up together and then all the ugly people are stuck with each other. This person went on to wonder why she had to settle for an ugly guy just because she doesn't think she's very pretty.

Beyond it being a good question, it struck me as being one with the mindset that favors the good looking over the not so good looking, which is what it seemed she was complaining about in the first place. If you don't think physical appearance should be the dividing factor in who dates who, why would you then assume the same sort of bigotry for yourself?
For my own experience, I've dated a variety of females. Some have been what my friend would call "good looking", and some have been more off-beat in their appearance. But all of them had something that attracted me. It was sometimes a physical characteristic, maybe a smile or a stunning pair of eyes; sometimes it was more about a personality that impressed me to the point that nothing else could have mattered to me; often, charm played a vital role in the attraction, and usually it was a combination of all the preceding qualities.

For all the superficial differences I could gather about all these women, most of them seem qualitatively similar. And, believe it or not, external (fake) beauty is not always proportional to internal (real) beauty -- I can think of at least one instance in which this idea proved painfully true.

I've had enough experience to recognize how misleading it can be to "judge a book by its cover", yet the misperception thrives in many people's minds. Going past dating experience, I can say that some of the most seemingly abnormal people I've ever met are coincidentally among the most sane, and often most intelligent, people I've ever known. And some of the blandest looking books contain the most interesting, inspiring stories, but those who only look at the surface tend to miss these things, and they rarely realize what they're missing.

And while it's disturbing enough to think of other people as irreparably ugly, it's equally disturbing to think of yourself this way. The materialistic paradigm says you're only as good as you look to other people. Those who crave the "good" life from afar might believe if they were just a little wealthier, or if they were thinner, taller, prettier or more handsome -- then life would be better. Many people adopt this paradigm because in looking from afar, it's easy to miss the flaws and miseries that accompany such a hollow thesis.

What sticks out as analogous to me is the concept of architecture wherein if you wish to build a good house, you need to start with the substructural foundation. Then you move to the frame, and so on until you get to the outer shell. The outer shell, no matter how pretty, is rarely sufficient without the inner workings -- the structure you can't see gives the house its most vital support. In other words, a house with a bad foundation and termite-ridden frame can't be rescued by aluminum siding.

Too many people are falling into the trap of believing if they change the outer perception, that will be enough to compensate for the flaws in the inner structure. But it never is.

I wonder how many people realize that.

"The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert W. Service

This one is newly discovered to me, but I like it a lot. It reads well as a sort of story, which is fitting, since that's exactly what it's telling.

"My possessions are causing me suspicion, but there's no proof."
-Crowded House

At work last night, I was thinking of materialism, greed and our American obsession with "having." I hadn't been online since yesterday morning, so I didn't get a chance to notice that a post on Ales Rarus yesterday had much to do with the same topic. Poor me, I got in on this a little late, but it's still a worthy topic. In his post, Funky notices some of the incomplete nature of Christian political activism:

"Tying this into the Red vs. Blue craziness, I find it interesting that Red Christians get most of the moral teachings right but disregard the economic teachings, and the Blue Christians get the economic teachings while mostly ignoring the moral teachings. As a Purple Christian, I find this to be very frustrating."

I like the term "Purple Christian," especially when discussing the red state / blue state phenomenon. I probably appreciate it because I identify with it, apparently in many of the ways that the Funky man does. I do find it frustrating that many religious liberals endorse the the sanctity of choice, while many religious conservatives endorse the Godliness of greed. And yet both sides have positions in other areas that are more in line with Christian principle, but it seems neither side has the complete package.

Of course, the interesting similarity between both sides is that when you come to some of the "Christian" issues being ignored, each side will defend itself by maintaining that while these are good ideals for individuals, it isn't the government's place to facilitate society's spiritual cooperation. At the same time, each side does embrace a certain set of forced moral values. Each side will tell you they believe some things should be mandated by the government, while other things aren't the government's business.

One of Funky's key points, and a point I was hoping to make before he beat me to it, is that we shouldn't settle for half of the ideal. In his post, he might seem to couch the struggle in terms of "moral imperatives" versus "social justice." In reality, both sides fall under the umbrella of the morally imperative, and when seen that way, there really is no conceptual struggle. Stopping halfway was never part of the plan.

-and the folks over at Bloglines are helping the process along. They've recently announced their very own Firefox Center -- which is dedicated to helping users integrate the Firefox browser with Bloglines' services. If you use either of these useful web tools, you should pay a visit to the Firefox Center.

One advance that's been made is that the RSS indicator that appears in the status bar on the 1.0 release of Firefox can be made to add a page's feed directly to your existing Bloglines subscription, using a new Bloglines/Firefox extension called LiveLines.

I use Bloglines to track my collection of syndication feeds, and I use Firefox to browse the internet in general, so this development is certainly a welcome one. (Anyone who isn't familiar with RSS can find a useful tutorial at this address.)

I know this drum gets beaten from time to time around here, but I think it deserves that much attention: I have tried just about every browser on the market, and the Firebird/Firefox line has been consistently faster and more useful, secure and customizable than any other browser I've used. If you've never used it, maybe you should consider sampling it for yourself; it has tools to import bookmarks from other browsers like Netscape and Internet Explorer.

Firefox has been picking up steam in recent months -- check out the W3Schools browser report and look in the "Moz" column to see the upswing in Mozilla/Firefox users since January (up from 8.2% to 18.6%) of this year. I'm convinced that the majority of web surfers would switch to Firefox if they only knew how superior it is in almost every area.

I still remember going to see a Nixons concert scheduled for same day we heard Spiro Agnew had died and finding out the concert was canceled when we got to venue. I'm still not sure if they canceled the show out of deference to Agnew's passing, or for some other reason -- but I've always wondered.

Whatever the case, we walked over to South Street and window shopped at Tower Records, got some ice cream and eventually went home.

I was just driving into the city last night and I crossed Arch Street, on which the Trocadero, the venue the Nixons were supposed to play that night, is located. I guess the question just popped back into my head as I was driving through the city -- to be honest, I think that thought crosses my mind every time I go through that section of the city. I know it's strange, but that's all you getting for a Monday post from me.

To open things up early this Sunday morning (very early), I would like to acknowledge that two significant females are celebrating birthdays today, neither of which will be mentioned by name. One is a lovely niece of mine, and the other is my esteemed f3 (favorite female friend). I hope both events go extremely well.

Speaking of my f3, I have been thinking about a movie we saw a while back that I thought was a very well-made, poignant film based on true events that occurred in Australia. It's called Rabbit-Proof Fence. This feature chronicles the story of three aboriginal girls who escape from a government-sponsored camp in 1931 to try to get back to their mother, using the rabbit-proof fence that bisects the continent as a guide to get back home. I don't want to write too extensively about the story line, except to say that I found it extremely interesting and provocative, especially in the sense that it spurred me to do some research on my own about the historical context of the subject matter. It is rated PG, and should be suitable for family viewing, except that some of the social implications of this story will be lost on some younger viewers.

I highly recommend this film. (My f3 liked it a lot, too.)

(Warning: if you don't reside in PA, this post will be even more boring than usual.)

Here in Pennsylvania, we are in the last weeks of the 2003-2004 state legislative session, the weeks otherwise known as the "lame duck" session. IssuesPA has an overview of what issues may be broached in the coming days. Among the most likely issues are gambling (i.e. slot machines), mass transit, gas tax increases, Pittsburgh's financial woes and last, but hopefully not low enough to slip under the concerned citizen's radar, pay increases for state legislators.

Lawmakers are typically the only nonself-employed workers who have the power to set their own salary without approval from their bosses -- they don't generally come up to us and ask about these types of things, which heaves it upon us to tell them what we think, assuming we're paying attention.
According to a November 5 article in the local paper here in Bucks County, PA lawmakers are the fourth highest paid state lawmakers in the nation, despite being the sixth largest state in the nation. Add in the fact that we have the largest legislative structure in the nation, which makes our legislature the most expensive one, hands-down.

I don't know how many members of the state house or senate favor the idea of a legislative pay raise (despite the cost-of-living increases that were written into the last PA legislative pay raise), but I've decided I don't think this is the most productive use of legislative energy -- I dare to say it rarely is. Perhaps, before legislating their own pay raises, maybe they'd consider giving the state minimum wage a slight hike first? Right now, we are one of many states that rest on the same minimum wage level as the federal government's paltry $5.15 an hour standard. Would it really be right for lawmakers to deny the lowest paid workers in the state some sort of relief while asking for a larger contribution from them at the same time?

But that's just one issue that would be more worthy of legislative attention. There are also the others, like slot machines, or public mass transit, or (for my friends who live out in the Steel City) the financial woes in Pittsburgh, about which our representatives might need some gentle (or not-so-gentle) guidance from those of us who call Pennsylvania home.

If you are one of those who, like me, calls the Keystone State home, you might want to look into offering your representatives in the state house or senate your opinions on these issues. One resource you can use to help figure out who and where to send your concerns can be found at www.legis.state.pa.us, where all you will need to do to find your representatives is put in your zip code.

Burning

This fire is more than able
to put me in my place,
sheltered by the angel
dancing in the flames.
This closure isn't stable;
this answer isn't straight,
as fires of burning hazel
are spitting in my face.

And I would play the savior
if you asked me to;
I'd become a martyr
just like lovers do;
I won't beg compassion
that I can't deserve;
I won't feign contrition
just to join the herd.

These masquerading fables
betray our better selves,
tempting bitter angels
to leave us in our hell.
These times of lies and labels
keep begging me to stray,
but fires of burning hazel
are standing in the way.

---

This is my first original Poetry Friday offering since mid-August. It was added to the "about a girl" page of the poetry index earlier this week, and the timing of placing it here today has to do with making sure a certain someone sees it without having to look too strenuously.

Poetry writing has been painfully slow for me lately, and this one is the first addition to the index in a couple months (several others have been written, re-written, and deleted or balled up and thrown in the trash). A while back I described a certain pair of uniquely-colored eyes as containing "fires of burning hazel" and then I told the same person that I would really like to write a poem using that line. Well, the first few dozen drafts were strained attempts at something more patently romantic, but what I ended up with was this rhyme, which to me, is actually more romantic than the first many incarnations of it were. I guess it's just a little poem about the pieces in our lives that provide comfort, stability and motivation in a world that does so much to drain us of those things -- which doesn't necessarily gush romance for most people. So consider it more along the lines of "Dover Beach", if that helps.

It seems Yasser Arafat has finally died, not like that other time when some idiot reporter fooled the President into commenting on Arafat's death when it hadn't happened yet. I don't know if this is good or bad news -- yet. I tend to think it has positive potential, though a power vacuum can be among the most perilous of situations, especially in a society with so many different radical organizations.

As the Fallujah offensive continues in Iraq, troops have apparently stumbled upon some of the locations where hostages were killed over the past several months. Without pointing too much of a finger, I have to wonder how different some of those situations might have played out if we had kept up the pressure last spring, instead of pulling back. I've never been a war hawk, but it seems like once you decide to do something, you're usually better off doing it decisively -- just one of the lessons I've learned from the executive skills exhibited by George W. Bush.

And in lighter news (though that could change with time), the President has named his choice to replace John Ashcroft as Attorney General, and the heir-apparent to leading the Justice Department's war on civil liberties is White House Counsel Alberto Gonzalez. And I think that's all for now.

First, I noticed over on Omni's site that she's celebrating 20,000 hits. Congratulations to Omni -- she mentioned she "was thrilled and flattered to see that, despite the extreme popularity of political blogs over the last few, pre-election months, or perhaps because of it." It occurred to me that she's probably got a point with the last few words of that last sentence. I have a huge appetite for political talk, but after a while many of the poli-blogs start to sound the same, even to me. I have been refreshed by those out there who post about more than just politics, even by those who avoid the subject altogether. (Unfortunately, I wasn't one of those who were able to ignore political discussion these past few months.)

Then there's the award for post-election thought provocation, which goes to Ales Rarus. The Funky one truly has a knack for concise, incisive content that cuts down the middle, showing little regard for established party lines. He shows the world through a Christian lens while still questioning inconsistencies in the mainstream of the religion. One angle he's recently spent time on is near to my heart -- the plight of centrists, especially as it pertains to Christians who don't fit comfortably on either side of the political fence in America (the linked post contains a couple interesting philosophical arguments in it, not all from a religious perspective, either). Whatever the content is, he generally comes up with something to challenge or enhance my mindset on politics and religion.

And congratulations also to Keeme, who has hopefully ended his long bout with comment spam, though I have to say this new system of his deprived me of the instant gratification of seeing my comment post -- some kind of review thing for the first comment in the new mechanism, I think?

"It's the Charisma, Stupid"

Paul Graham has offered a compelling explanation of our Presidential selections in the age of television. In an arena where issues and substance should carry the day, we're apparently still obsessed with packaging...

(an impromptu story)

I stepped up to the counter, 9:15 on a Saturday night. Not having eaten since early that morning, I was unusually hungry, and I probably should have been somewhere other than the local McDonald's with the kind of hunger I was feeling. But I was in a little bit of a hurry, with less than a half-hour until I was supposed to meet a couple friends at the local cineplex.
The girl behind the register was unusually pleasant. At least that's what I thought on my first glance, so I greeted her smile with as much of a pleasant tone as I could find. I ordered my food, she recited the cash total to me, after which I handed her a ten. She informed me that she was out of fives, but that she happened to have a two dollar bill, in case I didn't want all singles for my change. I told her that was fine. Then she gave me my change and my order, and I sat down to eat for about ten minutes.

While I was finishing my food, she made her rounds in the dining area, wiping off table tops. She was at the table next to mine and she asked how I was. I said, "Fine, and you?"

"I'm good. What would bring you to a fast food restaurant alone on a Saturday night -- if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm on my way to meet some friends, but I'm starving a little too, so here I am."

"Oh, what are you gonna' do with your friends?" she asked.

"We're gonna' see a movie," I answered.

"Which one?" At this point she may have sensed herself intruding a little too much, and she continued by disclaiming her curiosity, "Oh, you know what? You don't have to tell me your whole life's story -- I didn't mean to pry..."

"No, it's okay," I responded, because it really was okay with me if she wanted to keep talking. I was actually enjoying the attention, and to be honest, she was very attractive and I had no personal reason not to flirt with her a little bit. I went on, "We'll probably see some stupid comedy, you know, the kind that's best enjoyed with people whose company you can enjoy even if the movie sucks."

At this point, I noticed her name tag, and unsure how to pronounce the name, I asked, "Your name, U-M-E -- how do you say it?"

"Oh, just say 'you' and 'may' together quickly, and you'll pretty much have it nailed," she explained.

To confirm her pronunciation lesson, I repeated it for her,"So it's 'you-may', right?"

"Exactly," she smiled back. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Bill," and almost unconsciously, this response was followed by my outstretched hand, which she promptly shook.

"Well, Bill, it's really nice to meet you, but I should probably get back to real work before my boss thinks I'm harassing patrons."

"Okay. It was nice to meet you."

Then she paused and turned back to me before walking away, "Do you want my number?"

I was slightly surprised at this question, but extremely pleased also, "Um, sure..."

"Here, I've got a pen," she pulled one of those blue and white BIC's with the four different ink colors from behind her ear (I hadn't noticed it before that point, probably because it had been obscured by her long, dark hair. "Do you have a piece of paper? A receipt or something?"

I didn't have one, of course, and before I could put even that much into words, she said, "You still have that paper money from the change I gave you. How about the two dollar bill? That way you'll be less likely to accidentally spend it." She winked as she said the word "accidentally", and she went on, "Besides, I always see phone numbers on money, especially working at a cash register, but I've never actually written my phone number on money before -- so this could be a first for me." She said this smiling, as she reached her hand out, presumably for some paper money on which to write.

I fumbled into my wallet for the same worn two dollar bill she'd given me earlier. I handed it to her, she took it and scrawled her name and phone number on it, folded it, handed it back to me, and smiled. Then she walked away.

I left the restaurant, feeling quite full of myself, having extracted a beautiful girl's phone number without any forward effort on my part, and I went to meet my friends at the theater. The movie, as I had half suspected, was bad, the company was good, and all night, I couldn't shake thoughts of my encounter with the inexplicably pleasant girl whose number graced the two dollar bill in my wallet.

I managed to wait all of a day and a half before calling that number, at which point I was somewhat relieved that she actually answered the phone. Upon realizing who was calling, she expressed mock anger that I didn't call her sooner, closely followed by a brief burst of laughter.

We spent a good bit of time together over the next few months. During that time I learned a lot about her, like the fact that she wasn't a local girl, but rather a college student who'd be going home at the end of the current semester. Knowing this probably kept me from enjoying her company as much as I might have, but still, I enjoyed the time immensely.

She explained that "Ume" wasn't her real name, but it was what people called her. She tried to explain the meaning of the name to me. Apparently it was a somewhat informal name, and of foreign origin to boot, so the explanation was imprecise to a certain extent. As best I can recall, it meant that she was like a pleasant dream that was easy to forget -- or something like that. The pleasant dream part made perfect sense, though I remember wondering how she could be thought of as forgettable in any way.

In the time since, though, I've noted to myself how I still remember her with extreme fondness, but I do find it harder to remember details about her -- whether it be her face, her playful smirk, the way her eyes made a modest squint whenever her expression turned to smiling or laughter.

And maybe this gradual amnesia regarding the details has been helped by the fact that I have no photographic evidence whatsoever that she was ever here; that was the one strange piece of the whole experience to me, that she didn't like having her picture taken. Whenever I asked her about this, she expressed such displeasure with her own appearance that I was always left dumbfounded. I wondered exactly how she could have maintained such a positive persona while having such a poor view of herself. I never saw whatever it was that made her feel this way about herself, but for the most part, if I avoided talking about her appearance, she seemed able to ignore the topic as well. And aside from that, I rarely found her to be anything less than infectiously spirited.

But it's been so long now since I've seen her or heard her voice, I have to confess that she has come to perfectly fit what she told me about her name.

And from that reverie I shift back to reality, where I find myself pulling up to a deserted turnpike toll booth at about three in the morning. The toll is $1.75, and I fumble through my wallet to find the cash for the toll.

"How you doin' tonight, champ?" The collector greets me in gruff but friendly voice.

"Fine, and you?" I'm tired, but I extend the banter as I hand him the ticket and the cash.

"Peachy -- hey, a two dollar bill! I haven't seen one o' these in a while. And look -- somebody wrote a name and number on it. I should call, maybe she's cute..."

"She is," I respond, "but she doesn't live there anymore."

"Oh, ain't that a shame. Well, have yourself a good night there."

"You too," I say as I drive away, leaving behind the last piece of physical evidence of a pleasant, but fading dream.

"Mentor" by Timothy Murphy

"Honey, we're all resplendent.
Yeah, honey, we are all thrift store.
I'm like a wino with a twenty-dollar bill,
forever and eternally yours..."
-Bill Mallonee

My response to this year's election is a difficult thing to formulate, mostly because I don't know how much happier I'd be if Kerry had won. It was, to me, the perfect intersection of two mediocre candidates, both of whose platforms intersected with mine so sparingly that it would be hard for me to profess any disappointment or joy that MC1 (mediocre candidate 1) beat MC2 (mediocre candidate 2) by a whopping four million votes (which accounted for a whole three percent difference?). Again, as has been the case in so many elections, it was essentially a two-way race and we're still a 50/50 nation (yes, you can say 51/48/1 if it really sounds that much less divided to you). For another view of the election, I got a little out of this Alternet piece, which seems to analyze both major party agendas coming out of Tuesday's election.

I guess I shouldn't have expected a substantial consensus either way, and I really didn't, but the numerical proximity (relative to the size of the electorate) underscores the notion that neither of the men who had a realistic shot at the White House had the charisma to win over any substantive numbers from the other side.

Now we have, perhaps, a conservative justice or two to add to the U.S. Supreme Court, which, in some ways, pleases me a little, but we also have the same administration that has had a chronic blind spot on many domestic issues, as well as a war on terror that can do no wrong, so to speak.

If Kerry had won, I would have rued his stance on embryonic stem cells and abortion (to name just two), but some of his other socio-economic stances might have comforted me a little.

The point is, like four years ago, we have a President who made some more promises, and now it's sink or swim, at least in terms of the Bush legacy.

But I'm not holding my breath, since some of his promises from last time didn't end up meaning much. According to one poll from a while back, many of the people who planned to support Bush this year claimed they would do so in spite of some of his perceived shortcomings (Iraq, deficit spending, etc.), and many conservative thinkers expressed as much (some even endorsed Kerry).

So, who will the President answer to this time? Will it be the partisan base, or will it be the voters who swallowed their doubts and pulled for him anyway? I guess that's the real question. Four years from now, will I still be thinking of this election as a tossup between MC1 and MC2? Or will I actually be pleasantly surprised by the path we take this time around?

I'll give it a chance, but like I said before, I won't let myself turn blue waiting.

It's a good number. Some people in other places may not think so, but it's twice as high as my previous number... in 2000, the number was 642.

What does the number represent? It's the number assigned to me as I was processed to enter the voting booth this evening. I arrived at the polls around the same time I usually do -- roughly 4 p.m., maybe a few minutes before. The difference was that this time the line to get in and vote was literally around the building (I wish I'd had my camera; I would have taken a picture to show everyone). Parking was a nightmare -- I couldn't leave for about a half hour even after I voted, simply because someone else had triple-parked and blocked me in. Oh well, at least they showed up to vote, right?

So, in 2000, 641 people voted ahead of me. In 2004, 1318 people voted ahead of me, at the same general time of day. And when I got out of the booth, the line was still around the building. Woohoo!

The thing about it that surprised me most was that I don't live in an especially Democratic district, which is where I initially expected most of the higher turnout precincts to be. And I'm sure in the city, the numerical turnout was much higher, though I'm not sure if the turnout percentage could have been much higher than it was at Neshaminy Middle School (where I voted).

Still, regardless of parking hassles, long lines, and a few ornery line-dwellers I came across, most people were pleasant and appreciative to see numbers like that in our little suburban district.

And 1319 is the best number I've gotten yet.

Now all that's left is to hunker down with some popcorn and watch the results creep in.

vote.

why I hope you will

Since there isn't going to be any more politics for today, I wanted to pass on a couple humorous sites I "stumbled upon" the past couple days. One is a page with computer error messages in haiku, and the other is an index called "Things People Said," which has everything from poorly-worded accident reports to kids explaining what love is.

...and that's why I'm done with political discourse until at least then -- or I will be after I pass on one more link to a political orientation quiz my brother-in-law sent my way. After you answer all the questions, it gives you a listing of the candidates, based on how closely you match each candidate -- and it works for more than just the Presidential race.

I hope as many people as possible will go out (if they haven't already) and make informed decisions about the direction they want this country to take. My mind is finally made, but I'm not going to mention that here, not yet anyway.

I also hope this one turns out better than the last one -- in terms of partisan bickering and acrimony, that is.