My Shitty Roommate

Back in 1787 Grigori Potemkin constructed hollow facades on the buildings in his village in order to fool Catherine II as to the value of her new conquests of the Crimean War, thus enhancing his standing in the empress's eyes.

My roommate similiarly puts up a false front to hide the fact that he is the worst roommate ever. No hyperbole. Worst, ever. Example: he subsrcibes to Esquire to learn how to dress "European" but when he buys a nice suit jacket he doesn't realize that the pockets are sewn shut and as a result believes that he has "fake pockets". He looks nice, but it's all window dressing. It turns out he's one of the least considerate people alive, and only does something if it will publically improve his standing.

Months ago when we first moved in together, I bought a 24-roll pack of toilet paper. It lasted for a while but inevitably we ran out. I noticed that we were on the last roll and in fear of running out, I bought a mini 4-pack. This supply runs out shortly thereafter, as it happens on a Friday. I go to Chicago on weekends so I figured we'd be restocked when I returned. No such luck. I had no intention of being the toilet paper lacky, so I got a couple rolls and kept them in my room, wondering how he could have gone three days without toilet paper. "Maybe he's been lucky and has gone at work or during errands," I think, "Or maybe he was at his girlfriend's all weekend."

A couple of weeks go by and the odds are certainly not in his favor any longer. I have my secret stash so maybe he does too. I do a brief check in his room, no paper products. The next week A, who lives a floor below and knows of this conundrum, is going to have a big going-away party for a friend and my roommate offers our apartment to her (of course, not checking with me). My roommate's girlfiend pulls A aside, takes napkins out of her purse and says, "Here you'll need these, they aren't buying any toilet paper." You'll obviously note the incorrect pronoun usage there, but I'm past that. A. laughs out loud and my roommate must have been embarrassed enough because shortly after we have T.P. again. A four pack of one-ply, but it's better than nothing.

I respond once that runs out with another 4-pack and that lasted up until last Thursday. Easter vacation hits and I head up to Chicago for the weekend. I have now returned to a bare cardboard roll and the beginning of the Second Great War. It like looks the reserves are going to get called up again.

There's Something About Riding a Bike Down a Country Road in a Nice Blue Suit

James Taylor; oh boy, can that man sing.

Yesterday my parents and I went to the Embassy Theater and saw James Taylor. You know that dream you have when you purchase tickets to a great singer-songwriter and you hope that maybe they'll just show up alone with their guitar and play. However, when you get to the concert they've brought a whole big band and the aspects that you were hoping for (voice, guitar, lyrics) are overshadowed by the "big show" hoopla?

Not tonight.

Stage left: one piano
Stage right: a large screen
Center Stage: James Taylor, guitar

James put on a great show, not just because his voice has somehow gotten better with age but because he brought pictures. Sometimes before a song he would put pictures up on the screen and explain how the song came into being. Pictures of his parents, old girlfriends, old cars, Richard Nixon, Mediterranean Islands. He was extremely funny, quipping at one point when he realized his explanation was a little long, "You probably didn't realize that you were paying to sit in the dark to look at old photos." Or when he was explaining a song, "So, that's the first and last verse, the rest is just filler. All that middle stuff? Filler." When he was describing Richard Nixon's resignation, "And he walked down that long hallway and out through the French doors, or rather, what we would call Freedom doors nowadays."

If a chorus was needed in a song, on the screen would be the choir from his hometown filmed singing the chorus in his recording studio/barn. It was awesome seeing an ordinary choir, ordinary faces, ordinary people sing along to their friend's songs.

It's times like this when your hometown becomes a little less quaint and a little more cozy. When you can run into your dentist at a concert and he'll ask you about your life, or when the elderly ushers who have worked so hard to hold onto and maintain such a magnificent theatre crack a large grin when James Taylor compliments their preservation efforts.

After being so down on concerts a month ago, James has reminded me how powerful live music can be by making it personal and really seeming to care that each person in that audience connects with the show and the music.

Your Time Confuses Me

This year I had to deal with daylight savings time. For the first time. Ever since I could tell time, I have lived in one of those few states that doesn't observe daylight savings time. This always gave me a cool feeling when I could check Eastern (Indiana) as my Time Zone option. I guess as long as the crops get their sunlight, it don't matter what hour we call it out here in the sticks. Well, our governor grabbed the bull by the horns on his last campaign and decided that all of Indiana should be on the same time zone instead of three different ones. Well after much debate, we now observe Eastern Standard Time unless you don't, so we still have three time zones but now instead of not changing clocks, we do. Whatever.

However, this year for my first daylight savings celebration I was in Chicago, so it wasn't a big deal to everyone because they've been doing it for years. Of course, K and I forgot and sprung forward about 7 hours later than everyone else. Indiana was already one hour ahead of Chicago when I arrived so I didn't actually have to change my computer or watch.

Well a week goes by and I arrive back in Indiana assuming that all of my clocks are in order. On Sunday night, as I am getting ready for bed I realize it's not actually midnight but instead 1:00 a.m. There goes my good night's sleep; Daylight Savings Time pulled a fast one on me, albeit one week late.

I Wish I Knew How to Quit You

After a great beginning portion to my Spring Break in Chicago, K and I ventured SW to help her grandma move and to pick up my car. The carless experiment is over. After a $300 drop for a new starter, I reclaimed my car. My first stop: Target. About 15 miles down the road, the "Check Engine" light begins blinking. Using my excellent mechanic knowledge, I deduce a plan of action. I'll call its bluff. I've known people that have driven with that light on before, it'll stop, I tell myself. Besides, if it doesn't stop, I'm screwed.

Well, the Neon carries us around Ottawa and back to Chicago safely. On the drive back to Fort Wayne, I stopped to get gas. Shortly afterward the "Check Engine" light turns off. The possibilities:

1) The engine was rejecting the transplant of a new starter.
2) The car was allergic to old gas.
3) The car realized that I didn't care.
4) The car is still in dire straits but the "Check Engine" light is now also broken.

A Playful Weekend

Yesterday night, after driving to Chicago with my sis and her boyfriend, K and I went to see Romance by David Mamet. It is a foul-mouthed, hilarious comedy that tries to restore peace in the middle east through spine-alignment in the large picture and peace in the bedroom through the airing of the grievances. It was standard Mamet dialogue; that is, sparse and great. The thing I liked best about this play is that between scenes they would dim the lights and you could see the actors move the props and set around while this cool synth, drum beat played. The actors would set themselves, the lights would go off, then when the lights came back on the actors would be in different positions.

Today, we went to see Macbeth at the Navy Pier. It was well-done with great scene transitions with some weird gothic/street tough leather style costumes; I think the acting in the Mamet was better, but that's Shakespeare theater for you. Immediately afterwards, the actors sat on the stage and answered questions about the play, and since it was kids day matinee the kiddies got to ask most of the questions. I was impressed that 1) many 8 year olds sat through Shakespeare play and 2) they had formed interesting questions about the play. The actors answered ably and didn't dumb down their responses. I felt like even I learned something. At the end of the play when Macbeth is killed (sorry to ruin it for you), they made the choice to have Macbeth grab Macduff's dagger help in the stabbing. It showed that Macbeth was responsible for his choices even though his path had been predicted by the witches. It was a great touch, though something I would have missed or dismissed if the actor hadn't pointed it out.

Big City theatre; it's hard to top the quality of the everyone involved the process.