Day Five back on the ranch
The background picture I have up amuses me. The man sitting down just looks so darn happy. I'm working on figuring out the Arabic translation.
Last night I went with Michelle to Jazz in June, otherwise known as the easiest way to find most of the people I went to high school with in one place. It was relatively painless, slightly weird, but nice overall. It was great to see Audrey again - and less nice to remember what a backwoods place Lincoln is when it comes to certain values and beliefs. Grow up, Lincoln - stop being so damn unaccepting. I was oh-so-pleasantly reminded I reside in a red state when the Cold Stone franchisee asked about my summer research and asked accusingly, "oh, you're a Democrat?" He laughed and brushed it off, telling me they didn't hire based upon political beliefs. I should have known better, talking to a man in a Knolls shirt who spent his college years in Texas and was raised in Red Nebraska. Welcome home.
Atlas Shrugged is quickly becoming quite interesting as the characters' inter-relationships are revealed. Only 1,000 more pages. Hank Rearden seems like an empty loser, but I still don't like the planning behind his back.
Before the end of the week, I'm to expect a phone call from Theodore Sorensen, the man whose memoirs I am doing research for and President Kennedy's righthand man. What do you say to someone who has seen that much power? "My parents went to your high school!" Probably not. Maybe, "Can I call you Ted?" Maybe not. I'll make a great Washington reporter - "You're amazing! I've seen you on C-Span all the time!" If nothing else, this project will help me learn how to talk to people whose power I could only dream of attaining.
I need to get working so I can get a car - I rode my bike around yesterday, underestimating my athleticism and the distance between places in town. I probably covered a good 12 miles and realized I have no future as a bike messenger. None. Anyone selling a car? One with wheels that will go places? For $500-$700? Those are my only requirements.
Summer may pan out ok after all. Once my jobs start rolling on Saturday, I should be pretty busy and less poor. Researching will be awesome and the missing of Northwestern has simmered for now. However, I have weird dreams here - I woke up scared that I was in a group in Zimbabewe that was being chased by extremists who wanted to kill us. They were steamrolling people who then turned into piles of dust and I clearly remember a woman running around with her head on fire. At some point, I began running around the surrounding jungleside with a notebook in camo fatigues, scribbling notes and avoiding death.
I think I'll turn down any offers to cover Zimbabwe.
All in all, Nebraska seems quirky, with the usually eccentricities - this weekend is the Testicle Festival in Ashland. If you don't know what Rocky Mountain Oysters are, I'll give you a hint: female cows are not involved. Should be an entertaining time. I think we win the "Best Festival Ever" contest. I love rednecks.
xoxo
Last night I went with Michelle to Jazz in June, otherwise known as the easiest way to find most of the people I went to high school with in one place. It was relatively painless, slightly weird, but nice overall. It was great to see Audrey again - and less nice to remember what a backwoods place Lincoln is when it comes to certain values and beliefs. Grow up, Lincoln - stop being so damn unaccepting. I was oh-so-pleasantly reminded I reside in a red state when the Cold Stone franchisee asked about my summer research and asked accusingly, "oh, you're a Democrat?" He laughed and brushed it off, telling me they didn't hire based upon political beliefs. I should have known better, talking to a man in a Knolls shirt who spent his college years in Texas and was raised in Red Nebraska. Welcome home.
Atlas Shrugged is quickly becoming quite interesting as the characters' inter-relationships are revealed. Only 1,000 more pages. Hank Rearden seems like an empty loser, but I still don't like the planning behind his back.
Before the end of the week, I'm to expect a phone call from Theodore Sorensen, the man whose memoirs I am doing research for and President Kennedy's righthand man. What do you say to someone who has seen that much power? "My parents went to your high school!" Probably not. Maybe, "Can I call you Ted?" Maybe not. I'll make a great Washington reporter - "You're amazing! I've seen you on C-Span all the time!" If nothing else, this project will help me learn how to talk to people whose power I could only dream of attaining.
I need to get working so I can get a car - I rode my bike around yesterday, underestimating my athleticism and the distance between places in town. I probably covered a good 12 miles and realized I have no future as a bike messenger. None. Anyone selling a car? One with wheels that will go places? For $500-$700? Those are my only requirements.
Summer may pan out ok after all. Once my jobs start rolling on Saturday, I should be pretty busy and less poor. Researching will be awesome and the missing of Northwestern has simmered for now. However, I have weird dreams here - I woke up scared that I was in a group in Zimbabewe that was being chased by extremists who wanted to kill us. They were steamrolling people who then turned into piles of dust and I clearly remember a woman running around with her head on fire. At some point, I began running around the surrounding jungleside with a notebook in camo fatigues, scribbling notes and avoiding death.
I think I'll turn down any offers to cover Zimbabwe.
All in all, Nebraska seems quirky, with the usually eccentricities - this weekend is the Testicle Festival in Ashland. If you don't know what Rocky Mountain Oysters are, I'll give you a hint: female cows are not involved. Should be an entertaining time. I think we win the "Best Festival Ever" contest. I love rednecks.
xoxo