It is better to go for someone who loves you, rather than someone who you love

As previously mentioned here in blogworld, I occasionally dabble in online dating (OK, truth is for a while I was really addicted to it, but now am on a break). I still have a personal profile up just to see what kind of responses I get, and occasionally something comes really extrodinary comes through the wires. I received one this morning that really does take the cake....

Hello my new dear friend!!!
I hope that you do not object if I shall address to you thus:) First I want to be presented... My name is morgan. I am 48 years old.I am a single now and never married. I have 2 children. I am a the cheerful woman... I have a good feel of umor... at least I so think:)

My hobbies are walking in nature with my friends... I like to read a serious books, classics, phylosofy.Also I like to be engaged in various kinds of sports and to look it on TV.For example, I visit a sports hall when I have a free time.I think that I any woman should keep up the body. I think that you agree with me...Sometimes I like to visit dance club. But I do it not frequently.

Well, what I want to find?I want to get acquainted with the woman which searches for serious relations as me.I want will find the woman which to have such character traits as honesty, kindness, respect, fidelity to family.I want will find the woman which to care of me and about our family...The man of my dream should be a support for family. I hope that you understand me.I hope that I shall interest you. I shall wait yours ????? with impatience... I'll be waiting for your answer...Bye... mj

I took a look at his profile and was a little baffled by his entry line: "It is better to go for someone who loves you, rather than someone who you love." Does that mean it's better to be loved by someone than to love someone? That's a little disturbing, don't you think? On a side note, in his profile he is divorced and 44, not single and 48.

Now please don't think I am cruel... really I have a lot of heart when it comes to this often dehumanizing pursuit of "romance". If anything, my friends criticize that I let too many men have pieces of my life they don't deserve. And the poor English usage isn't really the issue here-- Lord knows I've had some true loves who couldn't even count up to 7 in my native tongue. But come on MJ! I wish I could show his picture, but will not do so to protect his identity. He's talking on a cell phone, and I swear it is a cut out from a JC Penny catalog and not a real life picture of him. Comedy. Pure comedy.

Ode to Frankie

While in London I got to visit a bit with my friend Frankie. Frankie and I became friends while living and working in Amsterdam for the same company. She is currently living my dream life-- has a great flat near the center of London, taking cool classes, doing freelance work, and partaking in the occasional road rally from the UK to Africa.

We have this funny little tradition that just seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Each time we are together, invariably one of us has a digital camera (the same make and model as well) and we take a self-photo or two. Here is a collection of some of our masterpieces over the years.



Frankie has pledged to help me find a great place to live the moment I figure out a way to join her in London! Start cruising the classifieds, my friend, I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't be too long now...

Soundtracks

Think about it: If your life were made into a movie...let's say directed by some cool young and up-and-coming director like Zac Braff or Sofia Coppola... and the director wanted to produce a soundtrack based on the movie to be released to the general public... what 15 songs would be on your life story's soundtrack? I think about this every once in a while when I am bored or trying to distract myself (like when trapped on an airplane).

The song selection regularly changes as I imagine the story of my life could be portrayed from various angles. This is what I am going with today:

1. In your Eyes: Peter Gabriel
2. Roma Capoccia: Antonello Venditti
3. What's Goin' On: Marvin Gaye
4. One: U2
5. Alive: Pearl Jam
6. Son of a Preacherman: Dusty Springfield
7. Ecstasy: Rusted Root
8. Angel: Sarah McLaughlin
9. Freestyler: Boomfunk MCs
10. Weapon of Choice: Fatboy Slim
11. Can't get you out of my head: Kylie Minogue
12. Trouble: Coldplay
13. My Culture: One Giant Leap
14. Something Beautiful: Robbie Williams
15. It's oh so quiet: bjork

Hmmm... I should make this a playlist in my Ipod.

Thinking about this stuff has made me nostalgic for some good times long ago. So the pic of the day is called "Booby Trap" and features two of the hippest chicks out there (and me on the far left):

Back in the Bean

How completely frustrating! I had just written this big entry about my trip and then there was an error in the publishing and it was all lost. Bah! So infuriating. Well, I don't have time in this moment to recap the story for you, but I will post this picture I took one evening while taking a stroll on my own. I love the motion and the light in this shot. But then again, when it comes to London (as if I haven't made this clear already) I am in love with anything that has to do with the great city.



More later....

Londonlicious

God I love London. I simply have to move here someday. I am sitting in the flat of my dear friend Frankie, taking a short break from the bustling London streets. I arrived at an ungodly hour this morning, so I am feeling a bit tired, but just being here gives me new energy. If I had an EU passport I would move here in a second. There is just a vibe here that you just don't find in sleepy Boston.

So if any of you dear readers are lovely british males who are looking for a fabulous American wife to spoil and be spoiled in return, do get in touch. I'll share my citizenship if you share yours.

Frankie just gave me a glass of water and kindly informed me that this water (tap) has been through the body (someone's body that is) 8 times. But still it is the best water she has ever tasted. Hmm. I'll have to remember to pack my Britta filter when I move.

This is likely the last entry for the next several days since I will be working my ass off for this conference until I get back on Monday night. Cheerio!

Like, Totally!

I love the 80s!

When was the last time you grooved out to Madonna's Holiday? Lucky me, my friend Rob plays synthesizer (and a few other instruments from what I gather) for The Reganomics-- a fantastic local 80s cover band. Even with a brand new singer leading the band, and a venue not extremely conducive to live music, they sounded great.

Here's a shot of the band, sadly you can't really see the lead guitarist's Karate Kid headband too clearly in this shot. What a great 80's accessory.



In this one you can get a better sense of the annoying TV (highlighting March Madness basketball) backing the band:



The only real unfortunate part of the evening were these two very drunk dudes pictured below who kept trying to play grab-ass with my friend Alyssa and me, and presumably every other girl in the bar. It must have been the bachelor party of the short one since--get this-- he had a real bowling ball and chain attached to his ankle. I know this because the ball accidentally hit me and it was damn heavy. I feel sorry for his poor fiance who was also somewhere in the room, since he was all over just about any girl within arms reach. ew. I think Alyssa came close to kicking him in the nuts when he and his friends suggested it would be fun if she showed them her boobs.


Ah, well. It was a good night out. Tomorrow I am off to London, so it will be a short blogging week.

Pic of the day: India

I took this picture while I was working for Semester at Sea back in 1997. SAS is an amazing comparative culture/study abroad program that takes roughly 600 college students around the world aboard the MV Explorer which is outfitted to serve as a floating campus (including library, computer lab, etc.). Students take their arts & sciences classes while the ship is at sea, and while in various ports they have a whole menu of excursions from which to choose.

I worked for the SAS home office all through college doing recruitment and customer service. After graduation my application to work on the ship was accepted, and I served in the Field Office (which organizes all the shore activities) from January through May. During the voyage we visited the Bahamas, Brazil, South Africa, Kenya, India, The Philippines, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Japan and finished in Seattle. Needless to say, it was a truly amazing experience.

This picture in India was one of my favorite shots, taken at a Hindu temple outside Madras (now called Chennai). The baby was the daughter of a co-worker. The gentleman was the custodian of this "Brahmin" Elephant who lived on-site at the temple.

Here is a shot of the MV Explorer (which is an upgrade from the ship that I actually sailed on):

Thx & BR

Happy St. Patrick's Day Everyone!

Today is absolutely crazy, so I will have to keep this short. I found this amusing. I just receivied an email from a college who signed off with:

bla bla bla bla.
Thx & BR,
Mr. X

Have we become so lazy that we can't even manage to find the time to type out a simple "thanks and Best Regards"? I mean, c'mon. Opps, I mean "Come On". I know I am having a bit of a rant fest this week, between jury duty, the T, and now this. But I can't help myself.

It is no secret that I swing in the jungle of online dating. I cannot tell you how many emails from prospective "men" start with:

Hi. How r u?

If a man is so contrained for time that he needs to shave 4 letters from his busy schedule, surely he has no time to date. But we all know the truth. It isn't because he is too busy, it's because he is too lazy. Or is a 50 year-old and trying to seem "hip". I am certain there are women out there who are just as big offenders, I just don't get emails from them-- so don't think I am picking on you my dear male readers. The only time this is OK, in my humble opinion (IMHO), is when using SMS on my cell phone. That's a different story all together.

L&P (love and peace)
Terra
PS- I will post the pic of the day a little later. I am pressed for time at the moment. TTYL! :)

Full of Hot Air

This morning as I was crammed into the greenline T shoulder to shoulder with what seemed like a few hundred other commuters I was thinking about the luxury of space (or lack thereof). Now don't get me wrong, I am a city girl, no doubt about it. I love the beat and rythym of the city living. But I do get really cranky when my personal space is invaded for long periods of time, like this morning. Riding the T puts me in a really foul mood (thankfully in the summer I ride my bike to work). I get so pissed off at people who exhibit poor T manners.

The top 5 offenders:

1) Those who rush getting on the train before others have had the chance to get off
2) Those who do not give up their seats for those who need it more than they do
3) Those who leave their bags on the empty seat next to them even when the train is getting crowded so no one can sit there unless they have the balls to ask them to move their shit
4) Those who hog the "hang on" pole so others have nothing to latch on to (and on the greenline you better hang on or you are going to either slam into another passenger or bite it completely).
5) Those who just don't take consideration for other travelers: playing loud music, eating stinky food, talking loudly, etc. etc. etc.

So there I was crammed in shoulder to shoulder and, as I mentioned before, I was thinking about the luxury of space. I closed my eyes (in a very Zen-like way) and let my thoughts wander back to my visit to the plains of the Masai Mara in Kenya. Now, that's what I call Space. In fact, I don't think I had ever seen before or since such a wide expanse of uninhabited land. No crowds, no strip-malls, no traffic, just... grass and the occasional zebra. It was amazing. Beautiful. At the same time, all that space and beauty made me feel rather small. This feeling of smallness was magnified while taking a balloon ride over the area. God, that was one of the best days of my life. I expected the views, the wind, and the altitude. I didn't expect the silence. While in the air no one in the basket spoke, not even the pilot. All you could hear was the breeze and occasional burst of gas lifting us skyward. It was like floating. Actually, it was almost like being underwater, where your body is freed of weight and all you can hear are the currents and your own heartbeat.

Maybe I should quit my job and become a professional hot air balloon pilot.

Pic of the Day: ballooning over the Masai Mara in Kenya:

Speak Up!

My horoscope (Aquarius) today reads:

Someone interesting -- no, absolutely fascinating -- is right around the corner,just dying to meet you. You, of course, are always game for fresh and different folks, especially the kinds that have brains. So when this new person arrives, you'll probably want to clear your schedule and make sure you've got time to spend with them. Oh, and don't be surprised if this thing goes on well into the weekend, too. Enjoy!

Giddy-up, I say! So... who are you oh ye of fascination? Speak up already! Don't be shy... it is so true that I am always game for fresh folks; although I am not sure what that really means... have you ever met someone unfresh?

I am dreaming of springtime, as this winter sure is taking it's sweet old time to thaw. Don't you love that first warmish breeze? Seeing the crocuses (or croci?), tulips and daffodils peaking through the wet earth? In reverance to my springtime fantasy, here is today's pic of the day.



This was taken a few years ago at the Keukenhoff (Dutch for "Kitchen Window") Gardens, not far from Amsterdam. No one does flowers like the Dutch. And so cheaply! A huge bouquet of tulips goes for just a few Euros. The other day I was walking by a flowershop with a Dutch friend who could not believe that a dozen runty tulips had a $18 pricetag on it. Robbery!

12 Angry Men...errr I mean 35 or so bored people

So today I performed my civic duty, I answered the call for jury duty. I'll be honest... I bitched and moaned pretty much every day for the last month since I received my summons, but secretly I was rather looking forward to it. I had elaborate dreams about what a good juror I would be; certainly the courts upon recognizing my superior skills of objectivity and reason would surly assign me to a truly exceptional case, or even fly me to California to replace some moron placed on the Michael Jackson fiasco. I would be humble in my juror-perfection, well coifed, professional...simply, the beacon of justice.

The day went a little differently then I had expected...

6:45. What? The alarm is going off? 30 minutes early? Oh why did I stay up late watching GI Jane last night?? Damn Demi Moore. And Ashton Kucher. Not that he was in the movie, but damn him by association.

7:00. Shit shit shit. No time to wash and dry hair. Will find classic tortise shell clip and fashion a french knot or chignon or whatever they call it.

7:10. Crapola. Cannot find fancy clip. Rusty barette will have to do. So much for visions of being well coifed. Fuck it.

7:15. Mascara, check. Lip liner, check. Blush (a nice gel made by Hard Candy that I am partial to), check. Lip gloss? Hellloooooo lip gloss where are yooouuuu?

7:19. Does Jury duty have a dress code? What if I finish early and want to go to the office? Nah. Jeans will do. And my favorite (aka old) black sweater and boots. Professional...? Maybe not. Whatever.

7:20. Officially late. Run to the T.

7:40. Arrive at Park Street, change trains to the Red Line. I feel like I am going to throw up. Why didn't I get a coffee??? I can't see straight. My eyes feel Soooo heavy. Damn Demi Moore!!

8:20. Arrive in Dorchester. Yes, Dorchester, that's almost an hour from my apartment. Why couldn't they assign me to one of the many downtown courts that are practically within walking distance??? Legal system jerks.

8:35. Arrive at the courthouse 5 minutes late. Not bad. I look like crap and I might smell. Oh well.

8:36. Security Station. I put my bag through the machine. I walk through the detector. I set the bells off. They confiscate my camera. I asked for some kind of receipt for it, so I could claim it later. They laughed at me. I am sent to the jury pool room which is half full already. I grab a diet pepsi (egh. pepsi) in lieu of a coffee. I wait.

9:00. waiting.
9:05. waiting
9:10. you get the point. This was a major theme throughout the day.

10:00. The jury liason comes in, tells us the rules. Shows us a tape shot circa 1978 showing us the rules again. She repeats the rules one more time. Alas, the magic words... at 11:00 a coffee truck will be outside and we will get a break.

11:00. A trial needs a jury. Coffee break is cancelled (damn!) and we are led into the courtroom. The defendant is on trial for drunk driving and leaving the scene of a crime. He's the only person in the room who looks like he is having a worse day than me. I am sure he is.

11:10. I am picked as one of the 6 jurors for the trial. Then the lawyers start striking us down (or whatever they call it). They strike anyone who looks even vaguely non-caucasion... and me. The judge said not to take it personally. I should've worn a suit.

11:30. I start chatting with the two girls behind me, Lori and Amanda aka Mandy. We bond in our jury pool room. They also had to trek from Boston out to Dorchester. The rest of our conversations are punctuated with various explamations of exasperation the rest of the day.

1:00. We are sent to lunch. Lori and I go to the only place within walking distance... a KFC. You may be surprised to know I had never been to a KFC before. And I have no future plans to revisit.

2:00-3:00. Spend time staring at the door below in picture of the day #2 hoping the jury liason will come back and take us somewhere (note the comfortable chairs). Finally she does. She lines us up and leads us down the hall towards a court room. Just as we are about to go in, she yells, "Stop! Go back to the jury pool room" and she ushers us back to our cave. No explanation is given for the retreat.

3:30-4:30. Waiting some more. The fried chicken isn't sitting well.

4:30. We are quickly lined up again and marched through the hallway. After we are all seated, the judge outlines the case for us. The court clerk reads the list of witnesses in this case, of which there are over 20. This is going to be a long case... the judge tells us it will take 2 or 3 days. I pray my number won't be called again, but of course #03-02 is called to the bench after 2 others. That's me. I take my seat in the jurors box.

4:45. The lawyers review our papers and start to strike the jurors they don't like. I am the first one called to return to the jury pool. I am relieved, but also a bit offended and disappointed. What's wrong with me? Oh why am I being rejected again? Can't they recognize that I am the epitome of objectivity and reason? Are they blind? My two jury buddies are called as well, and are not stricken. I am sent home.

And that, my friends, was my big day in court. I guess my superior juror skills will have to be proven another day. Next time I'll be sure to shower first.

That 70's Party

Last night a small group of us congretated over at Ashlee's to partake in a 70's inspired mystery party. In attendance were Andy Warthog, Gloria Stunnem, John Revolting, Lyza M., Bruce Leap and Diana Rush (me). Our generous hostess provided yummy 70's treats like Harvey Wallbangers, wine spritzers, chips and dip, and spaghetti bolognese (all of which were new and trendy in the 70's according to Ashlee's mom, Linda). What's in a Harvey Wallbanger, you ask? Well, it is like a screwdriver with the addition of Galliano. All I can tell you about Galliano is that it claims to be a spirito italiano but is made in France. Can someone explain that one to me?

Carmen...errr I mean Lyza M., apparently being quite competetive, would certainly appreciate that I mention that she was the only one who guessed the mystery correctly. But in reality I think she was just lucky. Who knew Jimmy Hoffa was still alive and posing as a woman?

After the mystery was solved we played a few rounds of 60-second speeches (which is certainly entertaining after more than a few rounds of drinks) where we learned about the proliferation of herpes in the 20th century, the problems associated with having a chonically broken toilet, Carmen AND Carmen's competetive side, the waxing habits of goth's, and breast plate armament (to name a few). Since we were on a roll, we strayed from the 70s theme and played some Balderdash where we learned that a gay vamp is not called a gamp.


Collage of the Day: That 70's Party

Fiedler's Friends

Pic of the day: Fiedler



This is Fiedler, who is master of the house at Ann and Dabney's, who I had the pleasure to visit last night for some great food, lively conversation full of wild gesticulations and a short yet intense round of Texas Hold'em. Around the table were also my dear Ashlee, Liza, and Jeremy. I was very pleased with myself that I was not the first to go out in poker (sorry, Dabney) and in the last hand I even managed to "steal the blind" whatever that means. I am convinced that any success I have with poker is pure luck. Jeremy tried to teach us some skills, some tactics, some tricks of the game, but I have to admit that all were lost upon me. I get the feeling that thinking about strategy too much might take some of the fun out of the game for me. That's why I am doomed to be a very poor poker player. But I have fun while I lose. Same with pool. So now you know that you should always invite me to be at your poker table, since you are most likely to come away the big winner. Just don't gloat.

I also had fun shooting a few pics of Fiedler and Ashlee, who Fiedler apparently worships. She must keep treats in her pockets although this picture below seems to indicate that really the tables are turned and it is Ashlee who is worshiping Sir Fiedler.

Colorwonderful!

Do you share my addiction for haircolor experimentation? Although a tame sandy-blonde now, I have experimented in the past with colors such as dark brown, red and platinum (and everything in between). A hairdresser once said to me, "New hair-do, new attitude" and I still live by that very important philosophy. That is why I am so happy to have found the Clairol Website recently. You can upload a photo of yourself and "try on" all kinds of cuts and colors. Fun Fun Fun!!

Check it out for yourself and send me the results. The site currently has a few flaws in it, but still well worth the visit. xoxo.

Pic of the day: Roadtripping in the Southwest

In the Beginning there was....

This is just a test posting to see how things are coming together. Stay tuned for Terrarism online. Thanks for stopping by. xoxo Terra