But Call Me Betsy

Hi, I couldn't help but overhearing the multiple conversations about your weekend that you were having on the phone for the duration of our one hour train ride between Manhattan and Hamilton. You spoke to several people about the same topic and so I really got the gist of the situation. What happened was this: you were on your way back after spending the weekend hanging out with some people along with this guy you really, really like. Let's say his name is Jake, because I've forgotten his actual name even though you said it at every opportunity, because I think you liked saying his name, because you saying his name made the relationship more real; made it seemed like there really was a Jake and you. Wait, now that I'm thinking about it, I think his name was Jason. So, the story went something like this: "Jason came to pick me up at the train station and he looked really cute. He was wearing that scruffy jacket I told him I liked that other time and he just sm...

It's hard to get to this blog when I'm writing in that 750 words thing every day (have done 165 days in a row so far). But then I look at the blog and feel so sad that it's neglected. So, maybe what I can do is to use the first part of my writing every morning to come up with something more general to say that I can cross post here. Right now, I'm reading Carol Shields' novel,   Unless , and really, not all that much happens in it from chapter to chapter, UNLESS you count that each scene shows this 44 year old mother trying to get on with her life after her daughter has taken to sitting on the street corner with a street sign reading, "Goodness" on it. I kind of don't like how the character keeps referring to her age, how she's in the first part of being middle-aged. That reminds me that I'm middle aged, but I don't feel like that. Also read a piece in the New Yorker that was really just this writer's diary from her time in Madrid w...

My working life is bookend-ed each morning and evening by riding SEPTA in some form; SEPTA, who has the saddest marketing tagline: "We're Getting There..." Like, we know we kind of suck, but at least we're trying! Most days, nothing of note happens, but yesterday, I heard a woman say, while holding twO children on her lap (ages between 2-4 years old): " And so I told her, don't you talk that way in front of my f**king kids." And then later, a kid on the Broad Street line announced, "I will recite Shakespeare for one dollar." The man next to me, this guy with a cane, took out a dollar bill and hobbled over to give it to the kid. They were too far away for me to hear what the kid said, but I thought it was totally awesome that the guy took him up on it.

Dan and I were sitting at the light on 11th and Snyder, on our way to Home Depot, when we overheard this couple standing on the street corner. We noticed first that they were arguing, and so Dan nonchalantly rolled down his window so that we could hear what it was about. The woman was half-crying, and she said, Tell me what I physically did wrong! I could be mistaken, but I think she meant that he should tell her what she literally did wrong. Unless, of course, he was her dance teacher and they had just come from a recital at the Walnut Street Theater. This didn't seem to be the case. That's my grammar snobbery for the day. Here is some street art for you: And then this is window dressing from the American Apparel store in West Philadelphia. The "in" thing for youngsters now is to wear petticoat's on your head, apparently. It reminds me of being in high school and how we used to think it was funky and subversive to put giant bows in our hair ala Material...

In trying to keep the blogging streak for the week going, I took some pictures on the the way from the gym to work this morning. These are places or things I frequent or see pretty much every day, which I know my mom will appreciate.For example, we have Urban Jungle, a fairly newish development on Passyunk Avenue. I go in there periodically to admire the plants, flowers, sculptures, fountains, wind chimes, and bird houses. I like the idea of the possible things I could do to my back patio. Liz and I eat breakfast here sometimes after working out. They have good coffee and they also have a jar of dog biscuits for your pups. A potted plant. I don't notice this every day, but I thought it might be a cool photo. Tasker Street, heading toward the Broad Street subway line. I have been going to the gym in the mornings for the last couple of weeks. We'll see how long that lasts. It is nice to have working out portion of my day done first thing in the AM. The gym. Mostly, I just...

I don't always hear or see interesting things in the city. I mean, I eavesdrop when I can, but much of what I hear is irritating cell phone conversations. I did listen to a long and involved conversation between a mother and her son about how disgusting the trolley smelled (to be fair, it did have a baby diaper smell to it). The raggedy-looking homeless guy in front of them turned around and said to them, "Thank God you smell it too. I thought it was me." The mom then used the stink as a teaching moment, to tell explain to her son that some people might ahve medical conditions and be unable to help themselves from uncontrollable smells and noises. "Be glad for the grace of God, it's not you." The more they talked about it, the worse the place smelled. This morning, I heard an Italian looking guy talking on his cell phone and going, "How 'bout I pop over for a minute. Have a cup of coffee." That sounded like a good morning to me. Then Dan to...

The guy sitting behind me on the train back from Princeton yesterday had an entirely personal cell phone conversation that lasted about ten minutes. Summary: "Why you gotta throw me out my house into the snow, huh? Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Oh, I am, am I? Okay, if you say so. My dad did not say that. I decided to leave, not him. Okay. Oh, right. Yes, here we go again. You did too! I never said that. But you're the one who threw me out in the snow, not me. That's right, act like that. You don't listen. Why'd you got to keep all of my stuff then, like my sofa? Okay. Okay. Oh, okay. Well, I'm not stopping by then." I couldn't see his face, but I pictured him as a 17 year old kid. When he got off at the Bridesburg stop, imagine my surprise to find that he was a fully grown adult man with tattoos. I just hope they don't have kids together. Here is your next selection of photos to choose from. This is Tilly, who belongs to Lex. Tilly does not like ...

That's part of a conversation I overheard on my way to work today---a man and a woman waiting for the bus, and the guy was obviously hitting on the woman. He said, "You together with someone? You got a man?" The lady just laughed and I kept going and so didn't get to hear the rest of the discussion.I walked up 15th street today for a change of pace and scenery. Saw a cute little white and black patched three legged dog, but resisted petting him for fear he would topple over. Went to Zumba last night, but we had a different teacher--one with a very round bottom and a penchant for Hawaiian-ish luau moves. She kept a smile on her face the whole time. We did a lot of jiggedy-jiggedy hip movements and thrusts. I didn't hate it, but the other teacher's class is much more high energy and the time seems to fly by. Here is how nice my friends are. Julie in State College sent me a birthday present, though I have probably never, ever have gotten her anything and have...

On campus today, I overheard two guys talking about friends who had recently broken up with someone and were lamenting the loss. The one guys said, And I told Abigal, but he's an asshole! She didn't email me back. She likes him, even though he told her she was too much work." The other guy said, "Yeah, my friend in New York had a guy break up with her by going, 'You're exhausting.' I mean, what a lame thing to say. They should have a cautionary list of bad break-up lines." Which of course made me think of myself (they could be discussing Auschwitz and I could find a way to reference it back to me, me, me). I've heard a few good break-up lines in my life, some of which I may have mentioned before: 1. Not-yet-over-his-wife-philosophy-professor. After six months of dating, I said, I love you. He said, I think of you fondly. The end. 2. "I don't think I can match your level of intensity." Guy who wanted me to do unspeakable things t...

Heard some guys arguing on the subway yesterday about gun control. One guy said, So, what you’re telling me is that poor people shouldn’t be allowed to purchase guns. The other guy said, Well, yeah. Then the first man said, But most crimes are committed by guns purchased illegally, right? So, what difference would it make if poor people couldn’t buy guns? I hadn’t heard their entire conversation and so didn’t want to jump in and proclaim, Yes! Let’s not allow poor people to buy guns and then let’s allow all the rich people to arm themselves and live in castles and throw their Whole Foods bread crusts into their yards for the poor folk and yell out to them, Let them eat cake! But I didn’t say anything because one thing I’ve learned recently is that I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. For all I know, they are both very liberal men who are extremely intelligent about racial disparities, crime, and poverty. It may be that they were reacting to the shootings at Virginia Tech yesterday. I saw a...

Best intentions--planned on coming to this coffee shop to write fiction for one hour because I signed up to turn in a story in a week or so and I have nothing new. Liz and Luke will be visiting from Brooklyn next weekend for my reading thing so I won't have a lot of time to write then either...Scary (oh, a big cute black dog just walked in with his owner. How can a person not like dogs? They are always so waggy). I have bits and pieces of a story about working at the organ donor place but it's really fragmented and I don't know how to reign it in to a coherent narrative or what it's actually about, plus as I've mentioned before, it's a hard story to write without sounding moralistic. However, instead of writing, I have spent over an hour surfing the Web and reading other people's blogs. (Aside: please kill me if I ever ever sound like this girl in here with her short bangs...She has the Philly Valley girl speak:"You knooowww, like I was like whatever, y...