kanga
Originally uploaded by ekissam.
the kangaroo and wallabee walkabout.
11.23.2005
orangutans1
orangutans1
Originally uploaded by ekissam.
what's better than being an orangutan? being an orangutan with a blankee that provides you, as well as onlookers, with much amusement. what problems could there be?
orangutans3
orangutans3
Originally uploaded by ekissam.
problem #2, the guy that took your blankee is REALLY big.
orangutans4
orangutans4
Originally uploaded by ekissam.
i watched this bit for about a half hour. skipping to the end, the little guy got his blankee back.
11.22.2005
w. . . . . t. . . . . . f. . . ?!
this may be one for the books. i think i’ve mentioned my early morning dreams and how they tend to be of a caliber more bizarre then any thing else. my 5am work wake up doesn’t usually give me enough time to dream in such a way, but this morning proved different.
it starts out with me attending a grade school football game. i remember distinctly that the kids seemed to be made top heavy by their large helmets and overbearing shoulder pads. during the game i made small talk with duane schuler, (one of our lighting designers) and his wife. -i think i should apologize for bringing them into my dreams. . . it’s not that it’s dirty, it’s just so weird! there was a very young girl whining next to me about how tired she was. she must’ve been about 3. she kept sticking her head between the bars of the stands and whimpering that she wanted to go to bed. i felt bad that she was dragged to the game by her parents, who seemed to be unconcerned that she was up so late. duane, his wife, and i chatted about the game, and i remember thinking that if i had the chance i’d like to ask him his thoughts about next season, in the hopes that i could gauge whether or not i would miss it if i weren’t to return to the electrics department this summer. (ha, even my subconscious is trying to get a decent reading on the situation)
then there came, what i assumed to be the half-time show. suddenly the stands had split and there was a 90 degree angle between my seat and duane’s. a group of people marched out in front of us. i had passed them earlier in the dream, on my way to my seat. i was wondering why they were all gathered in a group. they didn’t actually have on uniforms or anything, but each of them tried to wear something sheer. . . gossamer like. but like i said, nothing matched. then they all started singing. there was an ill performed jazz hands routine that went along with what they sang. and that guy, from the ‘naked food,’ ‘naked chef’. . . whatever that show was called, the baby faced brit was a part of the group, and i thought i saw people like wolfgang puck as well. so then i figured that the singing group was all made of chefs.
here’s where it gets really funky. i remembered the lyrics to the chorus of the song, ‘your polonaise is outta space.’
now, as i interpret it upon waking. i thought polonaise was a type of sauce, like hollandaise. and by saying it’s ‘outta space,’ meant it was ‘outta sight’ (and you can add a double snap/ and point, because that’s what i do whenever i think of the saying, ‘outta sight.’)
however, upon researching, i discovered that polonaise has nothing to do with a culinary liquid, and the more i think about it, ‘outta space’ mean less and less.
polonaise, if you were wondering, according to http://dictionary.reference.com/ mean. . .
1. A stately, marchlike Polish dance, primarily a promenade by couples.
2. Music for or based on the traditional rhythm of this dance, having triple meter.
3. A woman's dress of the 18th century, having a fitted bodice and draped cutaway skirt, worn over an elaborate underskirt.
uh huh. . . so now what am i supposed to think?
11.20.2005
to shower or not to shower:
that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageously greasy hair,
Or to take deodorant to my arms. . . .
or something like that. yeah. . . i just got back from a week and a half in florida yesterday afternoon. i’ve got a ton to write about. . LDI, a day at universal and islands of adventure, half a day at the big cat reserve, half a day at MOSI, half a day at the lowry park zoo. . . time spent with friends and family. . . some friends from a long time ago, some just from this summer, and one that blew me off. . .
ray, by the way, i have your mom on the phone, she says, “ YOU SUCK!”
really. . . . you. really. suck.
other than that, there was a lot of walking, and a lot of visiting. . . and it was totally fun. . . but today, i just wanted to lounge. and i did.
i had intended to shower, and maybe even go out to get an oil change, alas, it was not so. i watched some tv that my roommates taped in my absence. . . watched a movie, cooked, did a ton of laundry, and a little online work, but not much. and now it’s nearly time for bed.
i’ll have to import and upload the pictures and write the story some other time, but soon, because i’m taking off wednesday after work, up to phoenix for thanksgiving. whew. . .
till later. . .
11.09.2005
hypothetically. . . .
we’ve all been there. the bathroom at work. (well, maybe i haven’t been to yours and you haven’t been to mine. . . or, maybe you have!. . . anyway) it’s not the most comfortable set up, usually. unless you happen to be one of those ‘important people’ who gets their own can as part of their office. usually one takes great care, thought, and deliberation in choosing which toilet to use, especially when one needs to take a crap.
perhaps there’s the one toilet that’s a little to small and close to coworkers, and one doesn’t want to be heard, suspected of, timed, smelled, and then blamed for the results of one’s trip to the bathroom. or perhaps one needs to time it correctly in order to miss the rush of coworkers in order to enjoy and relish in the alone time that most like to have in the bathroom.
i could relate my personal feelings that there is a conspiracy against me, personally, having the comfort, time, and peace that i prefer when ‘going a #2’ at my own work. how coworkers appear from nowhere to interrupt, and how i have to be wary of the costume shop schedule- nearly 60 women work there, and they all take their break at the same time (heaven help you if you need to pee or anything at that point). . . or how suspiciously when i need to go, that bathroom -no matter which one i choose at any time- needs to be cleaned, and i’m infringed upon by maintenance workers and their wheeled cart of disinfectant and cleaners. then, there’ the female one room/stall that’s right next to the male one room/stall. they share an air duct. i just find it impossible to perform when i can hear one of my coworkers, usually my boss, with the runs right next to me.
anyway, let’s say, hypothetically. that you are in the stall. everything is going smoothly, but you know you’ll be there for about 7 minutes, and you’ve taken out your phone to do some quality text messaging. you do so because your phone hides in your pocket and carrying a magazine or newspaper would be WAY to obvious. . . plus, you no longer have any good games on your phone since you’ve switched service. again, there you are, text messaging. someone else enters the bathroom and occupies a stall. there’s that immediate flurry in your mind . . . you wonder how long they will be staying. if they are going to be there for a long time as well, then it would be slightly creepy for you to never make a sound, so perhaps you should finish up. . . or blow your nose, tap your feet. . . something. if their stay is going to be really short, then you can just sit there, and make your presence known. . . or not. hypothetically, you were about to go for the nose blowing, but then you heard the other person pull from the toilet paper roll, dress themselves and flush. you are in the clear, so you sit quietly for them to leave. they wash their hands, you can hear the door open, and then something unexpected happens. they turn off the light. and instead of yelping out, you sit there, first in complete shock, then secondly in complete amusement, and thirdly. . . very slowly. . . you realize you are somewhat fucked. the screen of your phone is glowing, and since you figure-for the moment- there’s not much else you can do, you deliver the message and close the phone. then you REALLY realize exactly how pitch black dark it is. . . and there you are, a lighting technician without their flashlight. you theorize that you can finish the job by the light of your phone screen. but it requires more dexterity, and hands then you actually have, and the screen goes dim every minute or so. . . it’s too much of a pain.
here’s the question. do you attempt to finish out blind? figuring you were pretty much done anyway, and you’ll be able to turn on the light by the light of your phone in order to wash up. OR. . . do you quickly make your way penguin style (pants around ankles) out of the stall, again by the light of your phone, and make a mad dash to the light switch (in the great hopes that no one else casually strolls in and flips the light switch to be greeted by the sight of you with your pants around your ankles phone held at the ready in front of you like a weapon). . . and then head back to finish up? just hypothetically wondering. . . .
11.01.2005
halloween decoration
halloween decoration
Originally uploaded by ekissam.
katy and i went to visit michael and leilani and their kids at a halloween open house. i helped michael gather up some lighting equipment for the extravaganza he had planned. as you can see, OBVIOUSLY (hehe) there are pieces from turandot cut up like flames and lit appropriately.
10.30.2005
little to note
well, other than getting out to see SAW II, and carving some pumpkins, there’s little about this past week to mention. . . but since i feel the need to write. . . i’ll bore anyone that feels like checking in, with my latest bout of insomnia.
since i work such late hours during the summer, i rarely have trouble with sleep, other than not getting enough. yesterday i was sleepy around 9pm, but forced myself to stay awake till around 11pm. i picked up my book, did a little reading, then turned off my light and commenced to not sleep. usually if i have trouble drifting off, it’s because i’m mulling over some problem from work, but last night, my mind was wandering through my early teen summers spent at different summer camps. not as far back as any girl scout camps but mostly the basketball camps, and a little of the one music camp i attended.
i don’t know what i was looking for. . . or what my mind was looking for. but i had a feeling like i was trying to figure something out about my current life in accordance to my past. i had no revelations. i saw nothing new, or even gained new perspective on anything i already knew.
there was one evening at a basketball camp when i stayed for some after dinner events. we were in the field house at potsdam state maxi hall. i remember that there weren’t many people participating in the drills, but coach welch (sp?) was there.
coach welch was the potsdam bears basketball coach. throughout my preteen and early teen years i attended the bears basketball games. they were amazing for a number of years. the pep band was phenomenal. . . how could they not be with students from the crane school of music heading them up? the games were riotous. after winning the tip off, or sometimes the first points of the game, (which was almost inevitable) the crowd would break out into a chant of, ‘WARM UP THE BUS, WARM UP THE BUS.’ and a shower of toilet paper would stream across the court. (ps. . for those of you who are unaware of living in colder regions, sometimes vehicles need to be plugged in and ‘warmed up’ preemptively to someone driving or riding in it. this is sometimes a lengthy process because it can get DAMN cold in northern ny) perhaps now everyone gets the joke? it would become an especially low dig to a team if they got the, ‘warm up the bus’ chant after announcing their team roster. ahh, then there were the chants of, ‘hey opposing team member, we just got a call from your mom. she says, YOU SUCK!’ ahhhh, those were the days. there were kids in my high school who would argue about the st. lawrence saints vs. the clarkson knights (nearby college hockey teams) but i couldn’t be bothered with such drivel, the bears were winning.
but i digress.
there we were, just a few of us, and i may have been the only girl. . . something i’d gotten used to even by that point. i remember that there was another kid from my school there too. the challenge was to get as many points in a thirty second period as possible. lay ups were worth one point, outside the three second mark was two points, and so on. . . as i said, we were given 30 seconds to rack up as many points as possible. i don’t even remember if there were ribbons, certificates or anything on the line for winning. the other guy from my school went before me and kept shooting for the higher point range, but when he missed the ball would ricochet and he’d lose time retrieving it. before it was my turn i had made up my mind. . . what were all those lay up drills in practice for anyway? i stepped up to the basket and coach welch called to start. i don’t think i missed a single one. . . though that may be me romanticizing my own past. . . anyway, i made something like 20 lay ups. i ended up winning in my division. . . which ended up not mattering too much since they not only broke it up into age groups but also into boys and girls. so i was the only one in my division. i had won over the boys too, but that didn’t seem to matter.
so, the award wasn’t big, but coach welch walked back to the lounge area of the dorms with the group of us and wouldn’t shut up about it. he was telling all the other coaches and anyone else that i had fired off 20 lay ups during the drill. of course i enjoyed the praise a bit. . . but it got a little unnerving. then as he said it again, some kid came up to say that he had made something like 23 or 25 lay ups in the same time. even though coach welch had seemed all proud of me, he turned and said, ‘yeah, but you’re a guy and she’s a gal.’ nothing about the fact that he was several years older than me, or a good foot taller than me. . . nope, just that he was a guy. even then it got under my skin. so it’s not like i was able to look back on it now and say, ‘hey. . . that’s not cool.’ i just relive it, and then wonder a bit about how i decided to wear purple zinc oxide just below my eyes, like football players that entire summer. . . something that other people liked to poke fun at. . . i felt completely justified in it. it kept me from getting sunburned where i was most sensitive (my face) and it kept a bit of the glare out of my eyes while out in the outdoor courts. . . and how my favorite shirt was a hot pink number with cut off sleeves and ‘Toronto’ written across it. . . yeah. . i was the height of eighties fashion, even if no one around me agreed. kind of like that girl in your class who dressed a little too much like madonna or cyndi lauper. . . but not exactly. i forget who i was idolizing. . . surfers? the cast from breakin’? whatever. . .
so yeah, shit like this. . . constantly running through my mind. flashes of my roommates from camp. different concerts and contests. . . the terrible clothes i used to wear. . . . is it any surprise i couldn’t get to sleep?
oh, and that terrible girl from potsdam central who informed me that basketball was a ‘gay’ sport to play in the hallway of our dorm. . . to which i replied, ‘um, YOU play, and we’re at a basketball camp!’ she then retorted that it was a gay sport for boys to play. oh, right, that makes TOTAL sense! what a freak. it does help slightly that i ran into her at a grocery store, years later, when we were both in college, and for all seen purposes. . . i’d say she had a point so many years ago. . . . and perhaps it was her back-ass-wards way of coming out of the closet to us.
ohohoh, and how i ended up in both the concert band, and the jazz band at music camp. . . i played french horn, but had picked up the bass guitar for my high school’s jazz band. i decided to walk by the try outs for the jazz band with my bass in hand. . . just in case i got up the courage. . . and there was no one trying out for bass. i remember it gave me more of a chance to hang out with the cute trumpet player from the concert band, and i remember how i refused to play a solo even though everyone gave me grief for not doing it. . . i HATE solos. . . .and i’m no good at improv music. . . . and how there was a different kid that kind of liked me, but how i was too interested in the aforementioned trumpet player to even flirt with the other guy. . and the terrible girls in the french horn group who tried to oust me from everything, mostly because i was a commuter. . . ahh the politics of band camp. . . and more bad clothes. . . but not as bad. . .
. . . is it any surprise i couldn’t get to sleep?
i read some more. . . then put in a tape of muppets tonight. . . remember that show? the newer one from the 90’s about the muppets hosting a tv show? it was really good. . . and i fell asleep to it last night.
and yep. . . that’s all i’ve got. i could go on and on about details and humiliations and how much fun i had. . . .but, i gotta get to bed. . . and hopefully, i’ll get to sleep.
since i work such late hours during the summer, i rarely have trouble with sleep, other than not getting enough. yesterday i was sleepy around 9pm, but forced myself to stay awake till around 11pm. i picked up my book, did a little reading, then turned off my light and commenced to not sleep. usually if i have trouble drifting off, it’s because i’m mulling over some problem from work, but last night, my mind was wandering through my early teen summers spent at different summer camps. not as far back as any girl scout camps but mostly the basketball camps, and a little of the one music camp i attended.
i don’t know what i was looking for. . . or what my mind was looking for. but i had a feeling like i was trying to figure something out about my current life in accordance to my past. i had no revelations. i saw nothing new, or even gained new perspective on anything i already knew.
there was one evening at a basketball camp when i stayed for some after dinner events. we were in the field house at potsdam state maxi hall. i remember that there weren’t many people participating in the drills, but coach welch (sp?) was there.
coach welch was the potsdam bears basketball coach. throughout my preteen and early teen years i attended the bears basketball games. they were amazing for a number of years. the pep band was phenomenal. . . how could they not be with students from the crane school of music heading them up? the games were riotous. after winning the tip off, or sometimes the first points of the game, (which was almost inevitable) the crowd would break out into a chant of, ‘WARM UP THE BUS, WARM UP THE BUS.’ and a shower of toilet paper would stream across the court. (ps. . for those of you who are unaware of living in colder regions, sometimes vehicles need to be plugged in and ‘warmed up’ preemptively to someone driving or riding in it. this is sometimes a lengthy process because it can get DAMN cold in northern ny) perhaps now everyone gets the joke? it would become an especially low dig to a team if they got the, ‘warm up the bus’ chant after announcing their team roster. ahh, then there were the chants of, ‘hey opposing team member, we just got a call from your mom. she says, YOU SUCK!’ ahhhh, those were the days. there were kids in my high school who would argue about the st. lawrence saints vs. the clarkson knights (nearby college hockey teams) but i couldn’t be bothered with such drivel, the bears were winning.
but i digress.
there we were, just a few of us, and i may have been the only girl. . . something i’d gotten used to even by that point. i remember that there was another kid from my school there too. the challenge was to get as many points in a thirty second period as possible. lay ups were worth one point, outside the three second mark was two points, and so on. . . as i said, we were given 30 seconds to rack up as many points as possible. i don’t even remember if there were ribbons, certificates or anything on the line for winning. the other guy from my school went before me and kept shooting for the higher point range, but when he missed the ball would ricochet and he’d lose time retrieving it. before it was my turn i had made up my mind. . . what were all those lay up drills in practice for anyway? i stepped up to the basket and coach welch called to start. i don’t think i missed a single one. . . though that may be me romanticizing my own past. . . anyway, i made something like 20 lay ups. i ended up winning in my division. . . which ended up not mattering too much since they not only broke it up into age groups but also into boys and girls. so i was the only one in my division. i had won over the boys too, but that didn’t seem to matter.
so, the award wasn’t big, but coach welch walked back to the lounge area of the dorms with the group of us and wouldn’t shut up about it. he was telling all the other coaches and anyone else that i had fired off 20 lay ups during the drill. of course i enjoyed the praise a bit. . . but it got a little unnerving. then as he said it again, some kid came up to say that he had made something like 23 or 25 lay ups in the same time. even though coach welch had seemed all proud of me, he turned and said, ‘yeah, but you’re a guy and she’s a gal.’ nothing about the fact that he was several years older than me, or a good foot taller than me. . . nope, just that he was a guy. even then it got under my skin. so it’s not like i was able to look back on it now and say, ‘hey. . . that’s not cool.’ i just relive it, and then wonder a bit about how i decided to wear purple zinc oxide just below my eyes, like football players that entire summer. . . something that other people liked to poke fun at. . . i felt completely justified in it. it kept me from getting sunburned where i was most sensitive (my face) and it kept a bit of the glare out of my eyes while out in the outdoor courts. . . and how my favorite shirt was a hot pink number with cut off sleeves and ‘Toronto’ written across it. . . yeah. . i was the height of eighties fashion, even if no one around me agreed. kind of like that girl in your class who dressed a little too much like madonna or cyndi lauper. . . but not exactly. i forget who i was idolizing. . . surfers? the cast from breakin’? whatever. . .
so yeah, shit like this. . . constantly running through my mind. flashes of my roommates from camp. different concerts and contests. . . the terrible clothes i used to wear. . . . is it any surprise i couldn’t get to sleep?
oh, and that terrible girl from potsdam central who informed me that basketball was a ‘gay’ sport to play in the hallway of our dorm. . . to which i replied, ‘um, YOU play, and we’re at a basketball camp!’ she then retorted that it was a gay sport for boys to play. oh, right, that makes TOTAL sense! what a freak. it does help slightly that i ran into her at a grocery store, years later, when we were both in college, and for all seen purposes. . . i’d say she had a point so many years ago. . . . and perhaps it was her back-ass-wards way of coming out of the closet to us.
ohohoh, and how i ended up in both the concert band, and the jazz band at music camp. . . i played french horn, but had picked up the bass guitar for my high school’s jazz band. i decided to walk by the try outs for the jazz band with my bass in hand. . . just in case i got up the courage. . . and there was no one trying out for bass. i remember it gave me more of a chance to hang out with the cute trumpet player from the concert band, and i remember how i refused to play a solo even though everyone gave me grief for not doing it. . . i HATE solos. . . .and i’m no good at improv music. . . . and how there was a different kid that kind of liked me, but how i was too interested in the aforementioned trumpet player to even flirt with the other guy. . and the terrible girls in the french horn group who tried to oust me from everything, mostly because i was a commuter. . . ahh the politics of band camp. . . and more bad clothes. . . but not as bad. . .
. . . is it any surprise i couldn’t get to sleep?
i read some more. . . then put in a tape of muppets tonight. . . remember that show? the newer one from the 90’s about the muppets hosting a tv show? it was really good. . . and i fell asleep to it last night.
and yep. . . that’s all i’ve got. i could go on and on about details and humiliations and how much fun i had. . . .but, i gotta get to bed. . . and hopefully, i’ll get to sleep.
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