Hey, Anthony

Her name is Lindsey. She comes to Starbucks quite often. A few days ago she walks in as I’m walking to the back.

“Hey, Anthony,” she says.

I assume she’s talking to someone else. I continue with what I’m doing. I walk back out, and I go to the register.

She says to me, “I’m sorry Jeremy – I called you Anthony. I guess it’s because that’s my boyfriend’s name and-”

I interrupt. “-you, like every other female, want me to be your boyfriend? That makes sense.”

Fortunately, she thought it was funny. So did I.

She was wearing a skirt that semi-inspired one of the paintings I’m working on right now.
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In a week and a half, I’m gone. That’s just crazy.
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So I’ve been listening to a lot of Aesop Rock lately.
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Mixt exchange was Saturday. That was great. I don’t know if I talked about it yet: it was a mix CD gift exchange. Everyone brought a mix CD and got a different mix CD. Good stuff. Liz throws good parties.
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Awkward story of the day:

I’m at Starbucks, and Liz was sitting there with one of her friends. I meet her friend: Tasha. We’re all talking and laptopping, when I notice that Tasha types one handed, instead of two.

“So do you always type one handed?” I ask.

“Well, usually,” she replies. “You see, I only have one hand.”

Wow. Thinks that make you feel like an idiot. Worst of all, she came in as a customer a few days ago, and I remember noticing that she only had one arm. However, until she said this I didn’t realize she was the same person.
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I think the book deciding will end when I go to a used book store, probably Friday-ish, and buy something. I probably won’t make a decision beforehand. Worst case scenario I’ll have to go to Borders. But there are a few used book stores I’m planning to try to hit.

Also, it turns out my trip is only like 3 days. I have 2 books I want to spend some time on, but I’ll probably split between about 3 books. Could be 4.
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I went to the Gallery on Walnut Street today. They had a Viktor Terechko showing. He’s amazing. But no links availed themselves.
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There was something else that was supposed to go in this post but hasn’t and therefore isn’t. Stupid bad memory.

Jesus and The Perfect Woman

This* made me think of Mark Driscoll’s Ultimate Fighter Jesus. I only half understand why, so don’t ask me to explain.

UFC Jesus made me think of a conversation I had today. You see, there’s this girl who always comes to Starbucks. She’s always super nice and has a great sense of humor. She used (and I think still does) go to Messiah, so I would have to guess that she’s a Christian. She has a great smile, and an even better laugh. And we always have amazing 2-minute conversations while I make her drink, when I’m not afraid to talk to her. And Liz, please don’t mention her name if you comment on this. You’re the only person who reads this and knows who she is (I think).

In short, she’s the perfect woman. But there’s a problem with that statement: she’s a woman. Women, like men, are people. And people have a very interesting quality: they’re not perfect.+

But in my head she’s perfect. If I ever got to know her, I’d be let down. She couldn’t live up to my expectation. My expectations simply aren’t realistic.

So back to UFC Jesus: obviously all of us have conceptions of Jesus based on our past. OK, not all of us, but those of us who are in/from a Christian/post-Christian^ worldview. If we have no concept of Jesus, then we’re for the shaping I suppose and this point does not apply. But those of us who have a concept of Jesus always have a bad view of Jesus. Not bad in that we picture hi as like a murderer or a thief or a rapist, but bad in that it isn’t fully correct. Maybe it isn’t even incorrect, but it’s not perfect. And I wonder how much we fear drawing close to Jesus because we’ll see that our view is incorrect. And when we see that our view is flawed we have to change it. And a deeper understand of Jesus is ALWAYS a good thing. But it’s usually also a difficult thing. And sometimes it’s hard to believe that it’s worth it, no matter how much we realize it is.

* Strangely enough, I found the link in a blog I found while looking for info about the dangers of LHC@CERN.
+I re-worded this in order to not be called a misogynist again. And deservedly so the way I originally worded it.
^Oh how I loathe the term post-Christian.

A Picture’s Worth 1000 Votes

(This was supposed to post yesterday, but somehow it ended up as a draft)

Today is the day of the Pennsylvania primary. It’s also Earth Day, but that’s not what I’m writing about.

The front page of the Harrisburg Patriot (our local newspaper) says,

THE PENNSYLVANIA PRIMARY
Our turn!

followed by a picture of Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. They’re very cool charcoal/photocopy-esque pictures.

Every day there’s a sticker advertising a local business (today a storage facility) stuck in the top right corner. Today, however, the sticker isn’t in the top right corner: it’s directly over Hillary Clinton’s mouth.

I find it quite fitting. I’m very much looking forward to reading tomorrow’s letters to the editor. Thoughts anyone (without seeing the picture, unless you’re local)?

::edit:: I don’t have a scanner. I do have the patriot from this day. Hopefully this weekend I’ll at least be able to take a picture, if not find someone to scan it.::

Bolivarianism And Misogyny

So yesterday I got called a mysogynist. Then again, it was by a woman, so her opinion doesn’t count.

She had a philosophy book and a Pixies shirt. She was completely uninterested in Frank Black’s solo stuff. Then I asked her who her favorite philosopher was.

“Probably Simon de Bolivar.”

I’m not terribly knowledgeable about Bolivar. I say a few things. At one point I refer to Bolivar as “him.”

“Actually, Bolivar was a woman.”

“Oh really? I always say her name in print and took her to be a man.”

“Well, I guess it just goes to show that what she said about oppression and inequality is still true.”

Excuse me? Let me mention that the aforeposted wikipedia link refers to Bolivar as him, and all the pictures are definitely men.

Surina brought one of her friends in shortly thereafter. We briefly discussed Bolivarianism, and she had a very adverse reaction to Che. Che used Bolivarianism in many ways to validate himself. It was in much the same way that Castro used Marxism, though he started as kinda a Marxist.

::edit::As Tiffany stated in her comment, the girl seemingly confused Simon Bolivar with Simone de Beauvoir. She did, however, indicate that my knowledge of Bolivar was correct, which makes me think she really amalgamated the two altogether. I’m quite confident that neither Bolivia nor the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuala are named after Simone de Beauvoir.::

At the Bus Stop

9:50 PM is not late. No one really thinks it is. However, that’s when the last bus to my house leaves the bus terminal during the week. Fortunately, Starbucks closes at 9, so the closers are out at about 9:30. Last night one of these closers was me.

We were kinda late on the close last night. I got there a little late. But I spent entirely too much time there. That’s not to say that I missed the bus. It was about 5 minutes late, but not a problem. Also, the lady who was driving my bus is great. Often it’s only the two of us on the 9:50 bus. It seems to me they really should run one of the small buses to cut fuel consumption (a plus on many levels), but I don’t decide these things.

Anyway, I’m waiting on my bus. In one of the little glassed-in-bench things (I can’t think of the word…) sits an older lady with a number of bags. I assume she was homeless. She sits there, reciting scripture. It’s a number of passages that are used by some to express a karma-istic view of events. And then she goes into, “Whatever you do to their sons, it’ll be done to your sons, no matter who you are or what you look like,” or something like that. And after sons came daughters, mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, and so on. “It all boomerangs.”

Then things got crazy. “You want to kill your family? Only one way to do it, and that’s burn baby burn. You want to kill your friend? Only one way to do it, and that’s burn baby burn”

Frightening.

“I’m a [N-word]. I like negros, and I’m a [N-word]. I live in the negro’s house, but I don’t pay rent and I don’t pay bills because I’m a [N-word]. The negro’s house is the church. I like to be in the negro’s house becuase I’m a [N-word].” Ad infinitum.

After that, back to more talk about killing people and it all coming back. Of course, the after part indicates that the previous was not truly ad infinitum, but you get the point.

I walk over to the next bench to ask the guy if he’s seen the 20 bus, because at this point it is late. I realize he’s mumbling to himself. The closer I get, the louder he begins to talk. I can’t understand any of it, but it begins to take on an agressive tone. I got out of there fast.

I walk away and someone recognizes me. “Starbucks!” he calls to me, recognizing me by where I work.

I ask him if the bus came. I recognize him. He occasionally buys coffee. He then runs around asking everyone, jumping over chains and such. It’s amazing that he’s the sane one of the night.

Really, there’s no deep thoughts to this. Sorry. Maybe some other time.

Trip Books

So I have a long bus trip coming up. I’m trying to figure out what book(s) to read. I like to think I’m well read, but there are lots of books I should have read, but never have. Here is a list of books I’m considering and a few comments. Let me know your thoughts/suggestions.

The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The Underground Man, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky – I’ve read about half of this. It was an excerpt in a Existentialism from Dostoyovsky to Sartre. Brilliant.

As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner

Being and Time, by Marten Heideggar

Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley – I’ve started reading this multiple times. I’ve consistently enjoyed it. However, I find this book tends to be somewhat depressing. I struggle with depression, and I know that I won’t be eating as I should when I’m on a bus for 5 days.

The Castle, by Franz Kafka

To Kill a Mocking Bird, by Harper Lee

The Prince, by Machiavelli – One big reason I feel the need to read this is because someone told me that I can’t call myself a renaissance man until I have read his.

Moby Dick, by Herman Melville

Being and Nothingness, by Jean Paul Sartre

Pour Your Heart into It, by Howard Schultz

Pygmallion, by George Bernard Shaw – I really want to read this, but don’t tend to be that into reading plays.

The Wealth of Nations, by Adam Smith – As much as anything, I feel that I just need to read this at some point out of fairness, as I have read The Communist Manifesto in its entirety once and most of it multiple times.

The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck

East of Eden, by John Steinbeck

Leap of Faith, by Soren Keikergaard

War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy

Nearly any new-orthodox theology book

::edit::I’ve been getting asked, and the trip will be roughly 5 days. Therefore, for the sake of my own sanity, I think I need something substantial. A can of beans, some black eyed peas, some Nescafe and ice, to quote REM.::

Thank you, Lord, that I don’t owe any other state $573.

We’ve all had some bad days. For me, one of those was yesterday.

I slept a little later than I wanted to. I had a lot of things that I wanted to accomplish. But that’s not a big deal.

So I head to Starbucks with my W-2s, et al and my computer with intentions of filing my state and local taxes. Since I lived in 2 states last year, I had to file taxes in both MD and PA. So I file MD taxes. First of all, the website is very poorly designed and confusing. But I wade through it. According to it, in MD for state and local I owe $596.

WHAT? I don’t have $596…I check all my figures. I check everything against my federal taxes. I forgot to put in my earned income tax credit (a whopping $20), which brings it down to $573. Which I also don’t have.

So PA now. I can’t fill out the PA web tax form because I can’t create an ID since I just moved here within the past year. So I go to the library to get the forms. I get them and fill them out. They’re a lot more complicated than they need to be. You’d think they’d ask for all the personal info at the beginning, then for the numbers. But no. Give us your SSN and the following financial info. Now tell us where you live. Financial info. Last name first name middle initial. Financial info. SSN again. Etc. No order at all. Anyway, after correcting a few mistakes on that, I end up owing $6.60. Not bad. Local is more of the same. $2.15. Not bad at all. Barely worth writing a check.

At this point, I’m starting to get sick. I ignore it.

Becky comes in. I’m helping her with math, as usual. Or I’m trying to. I’m not doing very well and I’m irritable. I’m really not feeing too good. Stomach ache. Headache. Can’t do math at all. Suddenly I see a flash of light.

No. Not this. Not now. This is the beginning of a migraine. I cut Becky off mid sentence. I have to go buy something. I go to the CVS next door. I buy pills, after walking through aisle after aisle of cosmetics and candy. Wouldn’t it be great if they sold medication at pharmacies?

I find Excedrin Migraine. I buy it and walk out, opening it as I head out the door. I’m standing on the street, screaming at the box as I tear it to pieces because I can’t get it open. I can’t get the bottle open. I walk back into Sbux and slam it down on the table and say angrily to Becky, “OPEN THIS.” She does. I take one. I get some water and drink it. I take another. I eat a bagel so I don’t get sick.

Gradually, the migraine fades. I was no help on Becky’s math, though. She heads to work and I head to Giant to buy groceries. I go to the Kline Village Giant, which is never a good day. To give you an idea of this place, a clerk was stabbed there a few weeks ago. Not in a robbery, but an argument.

I buy my groceries and decide to just walk. After all, it’s like a mile or so. As I start to walk, I feel a rain drop. Then another. Then another another another.

The rain then stops. I go home and I go about my day.

But on my way home I was thinking about how it was a bad day. I was especially thinking about $573. Suddenly it occured to me: When was the last time I thanked God that I didn’t owe $573 to anyone? When was the last time I thanked God that I didn’t get a migraine? When was the last time I thanked God that I could do math?

I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long time for me. It’s the things we take for granted that really matter.

Dear Caesar,

I’d like to render unto you my foot in our butt.
Die die die.
The quantity of money that you take from me seems a little unfair. I’ve started giving my church money in those little envelopes that I put my name on so that I don’t have to pay taxes on it, but I don’t like the concept of people knowing how much I’m giving. I don’t know if you realize how expensive it is to live at this point in time. I have to pay rent, buy food, pay bills, etc. Before I know it, I have no money left. Also, I’m paying student loans. I don’t have $573 to send you. I would like to say though that this makes me very glad that I’m no longer a resident of the great state of MD and will no longer have to pay you taxes.

Sincerely, Jeremy

ps Thanks for the whopping $10 that you’re giving me in earned income tax credit.

I hate paying taxes. I think everyone does. But I think this is the first time I’ve ever not gotten a refund. This sucks. Stupid taxes.

Federal + MD state + MD local = -$420
Hopefully PA looks better. It should.

Judging a Book

We all know better than to judge a book by its cover. A much better way to judge a book, in my opinion, is by its jacket. There’s a blurb of the book; a biography of the author; reviews of the book. And sometimes this jacket also has it’s collar popped.

You’d see him coming every day. Not that you needed to see him, seeing as he was nearly as predictable as clockwork. He and an older gentleman (who turns out to be his father) ordered the same thing every day: 2 doppio espressos for here. Talk about predictable: they wore practically the same thing every day, to get the same drink at the same time.

We poor the doppios and hand them off. They glare.

We called him doppio, though truth be told he was often called “The Doppio Bastard.”

Then, one day, he came in and got a frappucino. Briefly, he talked to me, telling me that he was slightly hung over. Fruppucinos aren’t what most people choose to drink when they’re hung over (on New Year’s Day we sold mostly black coffee), but those two sentences were the most I’d ever heard him say.

Then it happened again: I come in around noon, and Tony says to me, “I don’t know what happened, but we had a conversation with Doppio.”

No. Not true. No one has a conversation with Doppio. He’s Doppio. He doesn’t want to talk to you. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone who didn’t pay way too much for their clothes. He’s pretentious and rude.

It happens again and again and again. But it’s unpredictable: one day he talks and laughs and is the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. The next day you barely get a nod.

Then one day last week (Tuesday or Wednesday) I was working with Liz. As usual, Doppio comes in. Today his father isn’t there. Liz asks him what he’s listening to on his iPod. He tells us. Turns out he’s all about reggae. We talk. And we talk. Five minutes in, we ask him his name: Justin. He’s still Doppio, but now he’s Justin. Justin.

Liz and I are doing something called Mixt exchange, where everyone brings a mix CD and they are exchanged. It’s the mix CD gift exchange. Officially, we hadn’t announced it yet. But I went for it. I invited Justin. Liz and I are probably going to hang out with Justin at the end of the month. What???

Turns out Justin is a person. Justin has emotions. Justin is unique and interesting. Justin has thoughts. Justin has value. How’s that for lesson of the week?

Recently there have been a few experiences that have given me a new perspective on life. Hopefully I’ll write more of them down soon. But the one that I can’t stop thinking about now is Doppio. I mean, Justin.