Where's Brian?

Answer: On a lot of trains.



"Your grandparents will never understand," my mother told me flatly during one argument.

Most of my extended family met JP at Jenn's wedding many years later. His hair was long then and always fell in his eyes; Becky called it "the Rihanna haircut." We had breakfast in the hotel the day after the wedding. My grandmother, who met JP the day before, stood behind him as we lingered around the table. She used her hand to sweep his hair over and out of his face.

That gesture told me not to underestimate anyone's understanding. It made me wonder about all the things that she has seen that I have not and never will.



I was sick with a cough in elementary school, and my mom took me to the doctor. On the way home, she drove us to Fort Nonsense nearby, and she said that on clear days you could see the World Trade Center. That was cool.


Rolling In The Deep

Based on her YouTube views, Adele doesn't need any help from me. But this song is so good!



Today I had an "undergrad" kind of day: a bubble tea at lunch and visit to the book store after work.


Catch Phrase

Overheard during a game of Catch Phrase with the DGMC:

Hint: "Oh! Gays love this...it's on the ceiling...all in a line..."

Answer, shouted by a bunch of people: "TRACK LIGHTING!!!!"

I didn't know.


L.A. Song

Becky is visiting this week, and I know she appreciates this song as much as I do. I totally need to try this at karaoke.

Also, the best voicemail I ever got.


Another Quote of the Day

"My feelings about politics and literature and mathematics and the rest of life’s minutiae can only be described through a labyrinthine of six-sided questions, but everything that actually matters can be explained by Lindsey fucking Buckingham and Stevie fucking Nicks in four fucking minutes." --Chuck Klosterman, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs



One afternoon when I was sixteen I lay down on the floor, at the foot of the piano, among the heaps of unfolded laundry, and repeated the only three prayers I knew to pray she wasn't pregnant. The room wasn't redone yet. The carpet was scratchy against my face.


Quote of the Day

"The question should not be 'What would Jesus do?' but rather, more dangerously, 'What would Jesus have me do?' The onus is not on Jesus but on us, for Jesus did not come to ask semidivine human beings to do impossible things. He came to ask human beings to live up to their full humanity; he wants us to live in the full implication of our human gifts, and that is far more demanding." --Rev. Peter J. Gomes



That month was a mountain. Raina always said it was the hardest. Did some calendar-maker recognize this fact and make it the shortest?

Assess the validity of these statements:

1) In most of those years, I was attracted to self-confident women and men uncomfortable in their own skin.

2) I always found a way to insult everyone.

3) “Every kind of love, or at least my kind of love, must be an imaginary love to start with.”

4) I walk faster than everyone in Denver but run slower.

Bob ignored my request for address. Screw the digital age; I still want to write letters.

In January I looked for Danielle’s Strawberry Shortcake story and found the goals we had to write down during our sophomore year in high school. Short-term, medium-term, long-term goals that we stuck in a self-addressed envelope and our teacher mailed to us later. Go to the Shore after prom with my friends. That was one of my short-term goals. Ski in the Rockies, that was a long-term one. Most of the goals were about traveling, things I wanted to see. I don’t know if there were any that were about accomplishing something. I would have written him about that, if I had his address.

I had two crappy poems in our school’s annual “literary magazine.” Her Shortcake story was good. I thought these poems were dramatically different, one romantic, one ominous, and then Mrs. Doll said she read them and thought it interesting that they were both about forgetting. I didn’t know I was writing about forgetting until my gym teacher pointed it out.

I loved how Eulynn wrote under a pseudonym.

It was a month where I felt disconnected.

We went to the top of Breckenridge and fell into a trail called George’s Thumb. It was a whiteout. Maryann and I got dizzy, and people were only gray shapes. We couldn’t tell which way was up or down, and I clung to the only two things I know about avalanches. Don’t panic. Spit to determine which direction to dig out: if the spit lands in your face you can tell which way is up, I guess. That morning was the first time I heard the dynamite setting off controlled avalanches.

I felt like visiting Pittsburgh.

I read The Hunger Games trilogy and questioned the strength of my instinct for self-preservation. February will do that to you.