Thursday, June 9, 2011

Idle Time

There is something that I've never quite understood since I've moved to the East Coast. Idling. Like idling one's engine for an extended period of time. And I'm not talking in the winter, because that would make sense; you want to make sure your engine is warm before you demand its complete obedience in the snowy months.

No, I'm talking about spring and summer and fall. I'm talking about sitting in one's driveway after returning home at 10, 11, 12 at night and letting the motor run for, say, half an hour. Sometimes it's 2am. I've been woken from a dead sleep by an idling engine. I'm sorry, but what the hell is that about?

It's not like I've never lived in a city and I just can't handle the noise. I've lived in the French Quarter, smack across the street from the cop shop that liked to wait to turn on their sirens at 4am until they were right in the middle of the intersection outside my bedroom window. I've lived in Denver and San Diego, for chrissakes. I can handle a little ambient city noise.

But for some reason, the one thing I cannot stand is an idling engine. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the anticipation. You keep waiting for the rev, for the eventual takeoff that follows the drone. And it never comes. Like a stifled yawn, you're left irritatingly unsatisfied.

My neighbors, of course, are the worst offenders. The ones to the right (with the driveway right outside my bedroom window) will arrive at 1am in the warmer months, turn up their ridiculously tuned stereos, and let the music and the engines blare for a good hour or more, while they talk and drink and smoke and sell drugs and god knows what. (This is the same building whose tenants will take to sledding down their personal, 2-foot-wide ice floe at 3 or 4 in the morning, laughing and shouting and whooping it up far too early on a wintry weekday...)

To my left (or, more technically, right behind my kitchen wall), are the motorcycle enthusiasts. Oh, how I loathe them. Princess Pink and Mr. Green. Yes, these nicknames refer directly to their choices of cycle and matching gear color. Of course, to be accurate, it should really be Mr. Neon Green. I'm sorry, do I sound bitter and judgmental?

Hmm, perhaps it's due to the fact that I have to listen to them idle in our building's driveway for a solid half-hour every time they return home. Um, what the hell? You warm the engine up before you go for a ride, not after. (But then, you don't warm it up at all in this heat...) What, pray tell, is the purpose? And must you blast that godawful southern rap while you do it?

I've never been a fan of motorcycles. True, I own a moped. But I only work on it during daylight hours and I kill the engine the moment I reach the driveway. There is no needless revving of motors, no irritating idle. I have more respect for my neighbors than that. 

And maybe that's what it all comes down to. Maybe, having grown up in the west, where the expansion was vast and the crowding of the metropolitan areas was slow, I feel bad about encroaching on my neighbors' auditory space. And maybe, having been crowded into the tiny sardine can of the original 13 for well over a century, Easterners just don't give a shit anymore.

Or maybe I'm just getting old...

Friday, February 4, 2011

Better Late Than Never

Another year, another attempt at producing some form of creative expression on a (somewhat) regular basis. And, of course, now that I've opened this lovely new blog post, I am drawing a complete blank. Figures.

So, I'll start with the boring basic stats. A mental tallying of my assets (or deficits), if you will.

I am, at this moment, thirty (and a half) years old. I have a sweet apartment in the middle of nowheresville where I live a peaceful existence with my cat. I work for an awesome safari company where I've recently been promoted to Information Administrator.

I have an AA and a BA under my belt (although what specific good they've done me I'm not entirely sure). And at some indeterminate point in the future I have a tenuous plan to return for my MA. However, as the idea of writing even one more academic paper still makes me queasy, that may happen later rather than sooner.

I have a close circle of friends in town with whom I have ridiculous, drunken adventures. And I have an extended family of friends that practically circumnavigates the globe. Not to mention the fact that my blood relatives and extended family are some of the most supportive and loving people on earth.

It seems I have arrived in that mystical, independent future of which I dreamed so feverishly in high school. I have my own place, I have a great job, I pay my bills (most of the time), no one tells me when to go to bed.

So... now what? Now that I'm a "grown-up," what do I do with the rest of my life?

I guess that's what this blog is going to help me figure out.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Crocheted Android

So you want to crochet your own Android figure? - http://pulsene.ws/Xlyb

Friday, January 28, 2011

Lost & Found

Seek Droid Is the Simplest Way to Find Your Lost Android Phone [Downloads] - http://pulsene.ws/Tr4b