I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

the Forty Fourth Story

The Mushroom story: (this one's good! it has a punchline! it's worth reading to the end)I lived in one apartment for almost the entire time I was at Massart, but during that time, lots of folks moved in and out. After I'd been there for six months, everyone but me left, and Svea, Tom, and Sonia all moved in. This was ideal. Everyone got along, everyone had similar ideas of personal space, things were great. Svea moved out and Tyrell moved in. Things were still great.  Sonia moved out and Amber moved in. It still worked. Then Amber decided we needed a chore schedule. This pissed off everyone, and everyone, without talking about, decided they were only doing chores as they were assigned, but mostly still only did the chores that they had been doing before the schedule. Previously, Tom pretty much didn't clean, but he regularly made chilli and cheese cakes, and that was a fine balance, as far as I was concerned. I kept the bathroom and counters cleaned. Everybody did their dishes (including Tom). Sonia had done most of the neatening, and I admit, we were collectively falling behind in that department with her gone. One month, on Amber's bathroom cleaning turn, she made everything in there REALLY neat. Cleaned the mirror so it shone. Put the shampoo bottles in order by size. Looked great.
That night, Dustin was over. About three AM he got up to go to the bathroom. He shouted back "Kest, come here! You've got to see this!" There is, I thought, nothing I could need to see in my bathroom at three am. I shouted back a simple "no". He insisted. I put on a bathrobe and went out, bitching in my head. There, though, in the corner of the bathroom, were mushrooms. Sprouting right from the floor. They were aesthetically pleasing, and also absolutely hilarious, particularly after the scene Amber had made about how she was the only one who ever really got anything clean in the house. Dustin and I stood there and laughed for a while, I took a picture, and we went to bed. I left the mushrooms in place, knowing that Tom would enjoy them at least as much as I had.
In the morning, I got up and asked Tom if he'd seen the mushrooms. He hadn't, and I took him in to show him, but they were gone! We were both upset by this tragedy, and asked Amber if she knew anything about it. She was livid, and utterly unamused.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

The Forty Third Story

This story is from the first time I went to Thailand.  Across the street from the Grand Palace campus is Wat Pho. This temple is only just bigger than the Buddha it houses. There are two doors, one on each side of the head, such that you walk in, do a "u" around the feet of the Buddha, and walk out just about 20 feet from the entrance. There is no point where you are far enough away to see the whole Buddha- instead, one contemplates details. When we were there the first time, there were scaffolds set up to do some upkeep on the Buddha. We walked in and heard this metallic "tiktiktiktiktiktiktik". I assumed it was tiny hammers, associated with the repairs, but it was quickly evident that no one was working. When we finally made it around to the other side of the Buddha, we discovered the source of the sound. Hundreds of tiny metal bowls were set on stands, and, for luck, many folks were walking down the line, putting 1 baht coins in each of the bowls. Bowls had different tones based on their own make, as well as how much weight was in them. Monks came along and emptied the bowls at regular intervals, updating the sound

A photo of a small section of the Reclining Buddha

Monday, March 5, 2012

the Forty Second Story

When I dropped out of Oberlin, I called up my mother first. This decision was based soley on the fact that she, too, had taken the long route to graduation, so I figured she'd understand. I told her I had dropped out, she asked if I planned to go back, I said yes, and that was that. I didn't manage to get in touch with my dad till that night, and somehow, either through mom or my brother, he had heard before I got a chance to talk with him. I hadn't even said anything, and he was terribly upset- it sounded, over the phone, as though he might be crying. My dad doesn't cry. This was disturbing. We talked around in circles for a bit before he blurted out "But why did you have to elope? You could have told us, we would have supported you!" I was baffled. I had no idea what was going on. I assured my father that I was not married, nor was I knocked up. It wasn't until later that I made the connection that, progressive as he may be in his thoughts, in the world he was raised in those are the only reasons a woman drops out of school.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

The Forty First Story

Takes place during the one semester I spent at Kent State University. The parking for commuting students was quite far from campus, and in the beginning, I had to wait for a shuttle after class to take me back to my car. After a few weeks, I made friends with a fellow who for reasons I do not remember got to park right on campus, and on days when we got out at around the same time, he'd wait around and give me a ride. One afternoon, we dropped by the local camera shop - I think he had film to pick up from a recent vacation or something. In retrospect, I was probably supposed to ask to see the pictures, and then ooh and aah over them. Instead, we walked in and I immediately spotted a object which I had been coveting, and had been unable to find, for years. There it was- a perfect little 50mm fixed focal length macro lens for my old OM-1. I needed that lens. I didn't have my wallet. And, on the spot, I asked this fellow to borrow two hundred dollars. Poor kid, there's this gal who you don't know at all but you've been kinda trying to pick up, and she asks you for the equivalent to a full month's rent. He was so utterly shocked that he agreed. I did pay him back the next day, and he did keep giving me rides, but I think he stopped trying to flirt after that. win-win.