Monthly Archives: August 2008

a sinner’s impression of sin city

Posted by lorie on 8/31/2008 5 comments

I’ve been going through old emails and files this weekend and purging things, and while I was doing it I ran across this email I sent to someone shortly after my first (and so far, only) trip to Las Vegas in early 2006. It’s a little bit of a change of pace, and I kind of like it, so I thought I’d post it here.

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I learned quickly and well that the only thing to do in Vegas is spend your money – preferably all of it, but most of it will do. Vegas goes out of its way to assist you in this endeavor. It’s odd. It’s kind of gross. By the second day I was totally over it.

The symposium I was sent to attend had some repetitive stuff, and I made the command decision on the first afternoon to ditch the late sessions and strike out on my own. This is what I do in any new city – grab the camera, and maybe the iPod, and head out walking.

I was fascinated by and nervous about the guys who stood three deep on the Strip, with handfuls of cards of some kind that they slapped in rhythm. I’ve spent half my life in marching bands (dork alert) and find it impossible to ignore a cadence, so before I knew it my footsteps were matched to their hands. Slap, slap; step, step. I put on my Panhandler and Religious Literature Avoidance Face and my moviestar sunglasses and hoped they wouldn’t approach me – but then, as I walked blocks in time with their hands, I started to get kind of pissed that not a single one of them tried to hand me a thing. Perhaps my P&RLAF was too stern. Maybe my moviestar sunglasses were too cool. Maybe I was gross. Was that it? Was I gross? Why weren’t those sons of bitches trying to force their cards on me?

Out of nowhere I became insecure and found myself looking down at the ground as I walked. Then I finally noticed that the ground was littered with the cards the guys were handing out to, it seemed, everyone on the damn Strip but me. Cards for strippers, and/or ‘personal escorts.’ I didn’t really need a stripper or a personal escort that day or any other day, so I am guessing they gauged their audience (or lack thereof) correctly, at least in my case.

In my mind I kept comparing Las Vegas to New Orleans, where I traveled just about a year ago. In New Orleans I could not walk three steps without being approached by someone wanting to pull me into a bar, or shine my shoes, or read my palm, or sell me a painting or a flower or a string of beads. For some reason that bothered me less than Vegas did – Vegas is full of big generic machines and stores and such with solid, arrogant conviction that people will flock to them like sheep and throw their dollars in. New Orleans, on the other hand, was much more organic – a more personal hustle, if such a thing exists. I don’t know if that makes a lick of sense to anyone outside my head, but it’s the best way I can get it out through my hands right now.

I adored the weather, sunny and warm and beautifully DRY (compared to the mid-Atlantic humidity that I can never get used to, no matter how long I live here), and I was very yokel-assed touristy and in love with the palm trees, which feel like a vacation to me even when the weather’s bad.

sunshine daydreams

Posted by lorie on 8/26/2008 5 comments

So, here’s the thing. I’m supporting Barack Obama, which should be a surprise to exactly none of you. But I really want to tell you why, even though you can read everyone else’s why on everyone else’s blogs. I want to tell you my why.

I want to be someone who surrounds myself with people who challenge and inspire me, in the hopes that I can learn to challenge and inspire others. I want to be the kind of person who accomplishes great things through vision and persistence and creativity and integrity, and I want to learn to be that kind of leader by following others who already have all those qualities.

I’ve never truly been excited about a candidate for any political office before, though I have been pretty consistently voting for Democrats. I voted for Mark Warner and Tim Kaine and John Kerry and Jim Webb. I liked them all well enough. I hoped they would win. I thought they’d all do a good job. Of the four, Mark Warner comes closest to exciting me, and I really do think he’ll make a fine President one day, should he choose that route. But I am really, really excited about the possibilities of a country led by Barack Obama.

Throughout my life I’ve frequently found myself to be the youngest or least experienced member of the crowd. The biggest obstacle I’ve had to overcome in my career so far is my age. I used to get really frustrated when I’d hear that people really thought I was great but just wished I were a few years older. Though I get down on myself an awful lot, especially lately, I know logically that I have accomplished far more in my 28 years than some others have in their lives, and I’d like to believe my best is still to come. So age and experience? Feh. They mean something, but they don’t mean everything.

The leader I’ll follow does not have to be the most senior in the room, either by age or experience. The leader I’ll follow has to be wise and resourceful enough to look to experience where he is lacking, and to be open and willing to learn. At the very tippity top of the ladder, I believe the very best leaders know how to motivate those under them to be their best, and they surround themselves with experience where it’s needed.

Barack Obama makes me feel hopeful about my own future and the future of my country in a way I haven’t felt for a very long time. I truly believe that our circumstances can improve, that it’s entirely possible for us to look back on these years later and say, “Those were really good years.” I believe that we can do more than we thought possible, and that the right person will guide us to do exactly that. I don’t feel anything of the sort when I think about a country led by John McCain. I’m not afraid or horrified at the thought, but I just think, “…oh.”

In 1961, John F. Kennedy emerged from his greatest public failure to make a bold statement: that we would put a man on the moon by the end of the decade. People thought he was nuts. Even though he wouldn’t live to see it happen, we made it happen because he said we could. He was not a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination, and he wasn’t a perfect President. But he challenged and inspired us, and we’re better off for it.

The people we respect and love the most through history are the ones who dream big, who take risks, who are willing to fall on their faces in pursuit of an ideal. Those are the people who make great things happen. I believe Barack Obama can be one of those people, and I want to see him try. Really, what do we have to lose?

please oh please oh please

Posted by lorie on 8/22/2008 3 comments

I have been on hold with my doctor’s office for several minutes now. I am trying to convince them that it is time for my annual exam. The woman on the phone doesn’t believe me and is pulling my chart to ensure that I had one last year. I’m like lady, my pills are running out, you guys prescribed them, you won’t give them to me unless I have the exam, and besides, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t ask for multiple exams in a year. It’s not exactly a comfortable experience.

I never thought I’d have to beg for a cooch check before.

all this for cheap housewares

Posted by lorie on 8/21/2008 1 comments

I had to drive to Atlanta this past weekend for a work-related meeting. They’d strongly encouraged us to drive to avoid having to reimburse us for expensive airfares, and I said I’d drive unless I got a great last-minute fare on Delta. I did, in fact, get a great last-minute fare on Delta, but I got all twitchy and booked my flight for the wrong day. By the time I convinced Delta to give me a refund and went back to rebook, the flight was sold out. So I’d be driving.

Computer drama kept me in Lynchburg until nearly 8pm on Friday, and so that night I drove just past Spartanburg, SC, and got a room and slept for a few hours. I woke up early on Saturday morning and finished the trip with no trouble, then spent the next ten hours in meetings and events with the committee. I tell you all this so you know that when I left the Hyatt on Sunday morning, I was damn tired.

I decided that since I had to drive to Atlanta and back in one weekend, I’d reward myself with a trip to IKEA before I came back to Virginia. I’d been all responsible and plugged the address into GPS the night before so I’d be sure to make it there with minimal drama.

Problem: I-75 and I-85 in downtown Atlanta are all torn up and under construction, and some streets had been detoured and rerouted to accommodate the situation. It seemed okay, though. GPS guided me toward the edge of downtown and then told me to turn right. I was turning onto a street that had been rerouted, and the three far lanes were going left. The near lane was empty, and that’s the one I turned into.

Problem: THE NEAR LANE WAS ALSO GOING LEFT, as I learned when I’d fully committed to the turn and was greeted by a hundred blaring horns and a car headed right at me.

I didn’t think. I threw the Mazda into reverse and flew backwards around the corner, back to where I’d been before. Luckily, nothing had come up behind me while I was inadvertently risking my life and someone else’s. I was completely rattled and horrified and embarrassed, and literally sat at the light with my head in my hands until I heard a knock at my passenger-side window. I looked up. A homeless dude with a sign had watched the whole situation unfold.

“Where you tryin’ to go?” he said.

“I-I-I-I-KEEEEEE-A,” I managed to choke out. He told me I couldn’t go that way. I told him I’d figured that much out. He told me where to go to get straightened out again, and then asked me for some money to help the homeless.

I’ve been asked for money by homeless people dozens of times in my life, and usually handle it smoothly and quickly. On rare occasions I’ll give them money, but most often I’ll apologize and say that I don’t have cash (which is nearly always true, anyway) and then I’ll be on my way. That is not how I reacted this time.

This time, being asked for money launched me into a full-on, hysterical sobbing, snot-dripping, choking, gasping meltdown. I was crying so hard I couldn’t even form words to answer the guy. I just sat there and freaked completely the hell out.

And the homeless guy with the sign, apparently convinced I was bugfuck crazy, apologized, blessed me, and backed away from my car very, very slowly.

It’s an interesting day when you convince the homeless guy with the sign that YOU are the crazy one.

getting the hookup

Posted by lorie on 8/19/2008 1 comments

I can’t think of a time in my life when knowing the right people helped me get my hands on something coveted. Usually, if I manage to end up with something rare and popular, such as a spot on the front row at a Coldplay concert, it happens through sheer dumb luck and nothing else – not inside knowledge, not sound strategy, and certainly not political savvy.

And yet, today I’m sitting with two tickets to Obama’s visit to Lynchburg in my purse, precisely because this one time, when it really counted, I happened to know the right person.

A close friend’s mother is very well-connected in Virginia’s Democratic circles, and she put the word out yesterday that Obama was rumored to be adding a Lynchburg stop to his travels on Wednesday. We all waited around anxiously all day until we got the call shortly after 5. Go downtown, she said. Go now. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. So I called Sammi and literally grabbed my stuff and bolted out the door. We got in a short line and had tickets by 6pm. The email from Obama for America went out at 6:18, and by 7 they were long gone.

It’s no secret that my summer has been pretty much thoroughly horrible and sucky. I still have to tell you about my brand-new Dell computer that has been sitting with a dead motherboard for two weeks, and about how I almost got into a head-on collision in downtown Atlanta this weekend, and blah dee blah blah. But hey, on Wednesday afternoon I’ll be with 999 of my closest friends hearing our future president speak. So there’s that.