New Bike

IMG_3702, originally uploaded by Jacob D.

Hells yeah, first road bike. I love this thing. I ordered a new saddle though - this one is a bit chewed up. And got some mini lights for night time city rides. There is enough light that I don't need my own.

IMG_3546

IMG_3546, originally uploaded by Jacob D.

Finished putting up the wall stickers, hellz yeah

A test to see if I feel I can still write

When I ride I feel the wind and the breeze on my face. In the winter I can't help but feel it. I always feel the breeze on my lower leg where the wind catches the open flap of my jean bottoms and the uncovered leg above my low cut socks. Even in the early parts of spring do I have to wear enough clothes that the sharp northern torrents freeze me, the ones Chicago is notorious for. I think that is why spring is so special. We hide so long from the wind, covering ourselves that we can't really let ourselves just be. We are cooped up in our apartments and houses sheltered from life, from the spring air. At least, this is how it is in the Midwest. In the temperate zones of the world. We embrace spring in a full open arms kind of way. Arms outstretched in t-shirts and shorts before we really should. It is a fever really. Spring fever - how quaint. The people of California, only the parts those who don't live in California or near by thing of when someone mentions California, must be miserable. They have to think we are sad, with our snow and cold weather. We bear it. We know spring is coming.

I rode my bike through winter, all but the month of December and a few days here and there in November. I had thought it too cold to ride. Fed up with wasting thirty more minutes of my day waiting, I tried riding again.

The first thing you notice when riding your bike in January, is that in fact you are riding your bike in January. The grid street system of Chicago lends itself to what I like to describe as 'tunnel wind'. I don't really ever describe it as this, I just say 'the damn wind' or something. But I felt the need to say it this way here. No matter. From the years spent in front of the TV and even watching the Weather Channel a bunch, I found out that the jet stream makes a pattern down from the farthest reaches of frozen Canada and shoot straight for Chicago and pulls itself back north over lake Michigan. So it's cold. You get used to it, it is the wind - the force of wind so strong you question if walking would get you there faster.

A co-worker of mine describe it perfectly as though it was Jello outside. I couldn't help but see her, me, everyone in a world of livable Jello. Moving slow, not like in slow-mo replay where we know we can return to regulation time, but a place where we know it isn't supposed to be this slow. Everything tinted in a red or yellow. Just a big block of it maybe existing in an area where no one could avoid it. It would more of an annoyance than a hazard. The sounds of the radio muffled and distant on the inside. A smooth low hum over it all. People would live in it, just because they were different, or poor, or artistic, or just wanted to give it a run. Nothing would change, no damage to electric lines, we just move and live in it.

I've been thinking of a way I could dictate on my bike - something about motion makes me want to write. Trains, cars, planes - these are the places I want to write. Now I've got  the bug on my bike and I'm getting things, little snippets of things that are like wisps of dreams that I'd like to capture. Talk to my phone to jot it all down. Just a thought I guess.

New Mouse

IMG_0064, originally uploaded by Jacob D.

thank god, my finger was getting raw

@ work again

So I'm sitting at work, not so much board but distracted. I'm not sure why I can't just push these damn blogs out. Even when writing for school I guess I had this same problem.

I stumbled upon this pretty damn awesome podcast (that might be dead): http://alifewellwasted.com/ its a podcast about video games that is kinda like 'this American life' but with video games. Great, amazingly well done.

New website design coming for SPG&C. Pushing the blog. I guess I'll be writing more. Travel journey writing should be pretty cool too. More camera action - got to take pictures for the media (e-mail/blog/fb).

Not sure how much longer twitter will be around, I think we should focus on the blog and facebook. I sent 481 friend invites with one quick clickity click. I'm doing my job with small steps, marginally impressing my boss. I could do shit loads more but I'd like to keep my 'getting shit done' side for when I have to get something done.

My mother, grandmother, grandfather, great aunt, are all on facebook now, and I still have trouble keeping up with all the new fancy shit on there.

Doing a tasting of my Giard tomorrow. Not so much worried, but I'm not sure how much I'm going to sell nor how interested people are going to be in it. Self doubt is great.

Working a lot still, reading books off and on, reading rss a shit load, writing for myself almost never. I guess I was never meant to be a short story writer.

No boss, no direction

Ever wonder how you got the job you have? Yeah, me neither. There is usually a clear path to get where you are. My problem is direction. I guess I could be doing something right now other than writing this. But what? I know I could write some kind of blog post, maybe, on our site - about one of the 'new' products. But eh. My boss isn't here to say I should be doing something, not that I have to have someone looking over my shoulder telling me what to do, but I just need tasks that take longer than 2 min.

I've twittered, facebooks a bit this morning. I e-mail vendors for tastings. I just wish I was at home playing video games, well a particular video game - Just Cause 2. That game is very bad ass. It's a lot like GTA only you have a hook system to murder what I can only assume are North Koreans.

But I digress. I could be home right now, not wasting her money and my time. Should I feel obligated to sit here and wait till she comes back to say that I'm going home? Probably. Oh, I just remembered something I was supposed to do...

An Open Letter to NBC

To those who buy the Olympics and mishandle them. I write this to you because I'd like to draw your attention to the other 200 plus other American Olympians that are competing in this year's winter games. The coverage of Lindsy Vonn alone is enough to make anyone tired. The worst of her particular coverage is people doing better than her seem to only see a slice of the limelight.

I feel major disappointment for those who aren't getting any coverage because they aren't Ohno, Vonn, or White. Seems like you all put the faces who you seem to think will sell the most ad space. I understand that this is necessary, but after the "big win" of US over Canada there wasn't an interview of any of the US male hockey team - who did you interview on the Today show? Vonn. Oh yes, her again. Let us not forget what seems to be a love affair between Matt Lauer and Linsey Vonn. After "her first big win" Matt's first question in the interview was a sigh of release - as if it was he on the mountain. I was also quite upset about the almost blind eye turned to J.R. Celski. Never a word about his placement right behind Ohno. What about the first cross country skier in US history to medal at the Olympics? A blurb.

I know you all need filler, and not every Olympian wants to be interviewed or maybe has the time. And yes, we all need heroes. Heroes to shine a light on and follow and fall in love with as a nation. There is a line between hero and media whore. I feel you had made the mistake of covering - what I call - the big three, too much. There are others at the games, giving all they have and I think you are acting like a small child and their first love - can't let go of the easy ones.

Well hello

Come in, share a seat and take a knee, in the most depressing month of the year - February. Luckily it is the shortest month in the year because lets face it, it's awful. I'm not single, but I can only hark back the emotions that being single on Valentine's day is like. It's near the end of winter and in Chicago it's snowing and not changing to Spring fast enough. February is the month that reminds us that Winter's clutches reach much farther than we remember or even wish to remember.

I've been breaking my ass to get out this new Cupcake Truffle bidness as well as finishing off this gauntlet of '8 weeks of winter.' What was worse is sticking it out and working Friday threw Wednesday, from retail to marketing. My job is pretty nice though.

Went to the goon meet, it was pretty fun. Lots of fat and awkward, but overall a pretty fun time.

flash update

Still working doing marketing, making 'giard,' and waiting tables.

Will write something with more "significance" tomorrow.

Quick update

I haven't posted in nearly two years - I think - and someone asked me recently what I've been up to. I couldn't think of anything. I hadn't talked to this person is a while and he pointed me to his blog - which he keeps up with - and what was going on with him was all there for anyone to pick up and read. Well, this made a whole lot of scene to me. Not that I'd want people I don't know reading what I'm doing, but to have people I know read it without having me explain it or miss something.

So here is what I've been up to 'in recent history.'

I got promoted - kind of - at work doing Twitter/facebook, newsletter work. I am the marketing department for the store. I'm not going to link it for reasons withheld. I'm sitting in meetings with the owner and my two cents both matter and help business - which feels pretty great. Liz and I live in Uptown/Andersonville now, with our two cats, in a two bedroom apartment. We put up our tree about three weeks ago together; another nice perk of the promotion is I get a weekend day off.  I got a Droid - I only say this because it is one of the nicest things I've gotten in my life, and I got it on my money. I'm reading more - way more than I ever was in college - and I'm enjoying it. So I've got a job writing (kind of), a home, and I'm pretty satisfied with my lady and cats.

I'm sure there is more but I think that is fair for now.

Things to remeber

• Making candles in class (pioneer days)
  
• fluoride cart
• getting gold in "Olympics"/sex ed
• only guy in 7th and 8th grade chorus
• trumpet
• Joesph and the coat

Early summer

On the warmer early summer late spring days you can feel it. You can feel what the day will be like in the morning or how you'll feel about the day. The latter is true in this time because with the humidity and the breeze you can give a rough estimate to how you are going to feel about the rest of your day. The thing about this time of the year is that people are more cranky than usual. It might be the heat or the stress about long term summer goals, but people are on edge. I should restate that by saying grownups are on edge. The kids don't really care about long term summer goals, they are just glad that school is out and they can see their friends. As for the rest of us, summer means sweating on your way to work, or laying on the cold floor because it's the only place that is cool enough that doesn't make you feel like you have a slow leak on your forehead.

The Movies.

When you watch movies that remind you of how much you love someone its kind of something special really. These are the same type of movies that when I try not to get moved when the main character goes to her friend in need. I roll my eyes and pretend that I don't care that much. But these aren't really the moments. Guys try and not admit to themselves that we really don't agree with the "feelings" or "emotions" that come with so called Chick Flicks. We all know these moments. When you really know that the girl is going to get back with the guy (or in some cases the guy with the girl). We all know what is going to happen. Yet we are still moved deep inside us somewhere and we feel happy that they are hugging. Is it that crescendo in the sound track, is it that we keep trying to remove ourselves from the film so much that we really do feel for them, or is it the fact that we know these same emotions. We want to feel that same way, and we do sometimes. We see our loved ones for the first time in a long time and they smile and you smile. The times when you roll over and kiss them and try to feel that moment. Maybe that is what is so special about movies. They don't really have to live the moments between the ones with ones with a soundtrack background.

But those are the moments we live for. The ones where we wish we were on that screen, holding someone we love with the music and the people watching smiling. But I don't really think it's about those. It's the ones between the small looks. When they look at you and it strikes you, knowing that they really do love you, and that you love them. These are never on the movies. The look of happiness that both of you know.

Blue Sheet

It lays on top of us every night and holds a blanket that keeps us down with soft clouds of cotton.
It's a blue, but a kind of strange blue that looks like the ocean on a white sand beach. I makes me feel comfortable even just looking at it. It reminds me of all the times I wanted to get close to my lady, or the times when I didn't feel well and the only place you want to be is bed. It makes me feel like I'll wake up without much of any problems. It's not so much a security blanket as much as it's my bed room blanket. I think I've just not really had the right blanket or something. I used to sleep on the front room couch for a large part of my "growing up" preteen years. This, I think, is when you pretty much develop your concepts of what feels right. My next blanket was a black and gray patterned cotton comforter. It lasted all through high school, I really liked it. After four years though, it was getting those small balls of rolled up cotton that happens when you wash something too much. I moved "throw away" blankets after that. They were made from weird nylon cotton mix, at least that is how they felt. They were great for early undergrad because they were light enough in the hot dorms and heavy enough to cuddle up with in my lonely cell of a room. When I finally moved out I brought the black blanket from high school. It has stayed at my room waiting for me lonely in a dark bedroom. It always reminded me at home. Maybe thats what a good blanket does, it reminds you of home. Once I moved in with Liz it was out with that blanket. I was upset at first but our new blanket was amazing. I had never had a duvet set before. It's like his sheet (which I love) wrapped around a blanket. The one we have is a this soft cotton - and now it feels close to a nice T-shirt - and a checked pattern on the top. You brush you hands across the top and it feels like this warm warp. I wish I had some profound thing to say about my blanket but I don't. Simply stated: I like it.

In the morning

When I sit out on the desk its not hard to see why people love the city. It's not really about the fresh air, because as my sister tells it - it smells like burning tires and garbage. Now I'm not sure if I agree with that, but I do think there are some places a stench so horrendously bad that it has to push through the concrete. But the mornings are something else. It's mid spring and the sun feels like a warm bath, its not like the summer sun that forces you to seek shelter. The wind is smooth and cool, but not so cool that it makes you shiver. It's the type of cool that brushes off some of the hot sun and sooths you.
The city has a strange feeling in the morning too though. Maybe its just a Sunday, but it's like there is something resting and relaxed about it. Now I'm sure there are some people having a fire or got shot or something somewhere in the millions of people living here, but I don't think they can ignore the feeling. That might just pile on top of their anxieties, knowing full well that there are people like me sitting around typing stupid nonsense like this out.
It's nice, and I think this is the "just right" place for me.

Missing

Is it that you are actually missing someone or is it that you miss the way they make you feel about yourself? Are those two mutually exclusive? I myself am not sure. When I miss someone it's first about how I'm going to feel. The initial feeling that you know will come sooner or later when you are alone sitting and thinking: "well it would be nice if they were here." Then later you are laughing really hard at the TV, and want to turn to that person and get a response - they aren't there. Later when you go to sleep and you lie and have that moment right before you go to lay down and know they won't be there. Or that single moment right before you drift off to sleep and you dwell on them, you think about what they might be doing, if they are thinking the same about you. Sometimes you forget about them being gone, and you hear something funny or want to ask them a question, but they aren't there to hear it. Missing someone isn't about them really, it's about yourself in a way. The missing puzzle piece like in those lawyer commercials late at night, or the drug adds about Alzheimer's, or autism ads, they are gone from your life. They, usually, feel the same way. Maybe that is what missing someone is really about. The mutually shared emotion of felling helpless with out each other. That you feel like your day could not possibly go on with out them. It does, and so does theirs. Missing a person is like forgetting to set the clock on the VCR. You don't really know what the feeling is until you have it, yet everyone knows what it's like. Everyone forgets about it at times in their day, but its somehow still there glaring, blinking to tell you to fix it.

You try and live the memories of them though. The way they look when they laugh, or the way they roll their eyes when you say stupid things. It makes everything worthwhile when you see them again, in that one moment everything is forgotten when reunited.

Groggy and rolled over.

When I woke up this morning, a single white cloud floated by my window.

Columbia

God damn, just tell me where to send my graduation info, please.

Gaming

There is this weird connection that I get when playing online. It's not really of true friendship, nor is it a distant aquantence that you nod to on the street. 95% of the people that I talk to on a daily basis online I would never know if I saw them on the street. Only a hand full I may notice because I've seen pictures but nothing that I could tell a sketch artist.

I don't sit in a random chat room talking to strangers. These are people that I have, in a way, gotten to know over a full year period. The strangest thing is I'm not sure I would have enjoyed my last year in college as much without them. I confided in a few, and even would tell them things I wouldn't tell a best friend (and didn't). Maybe there is something that could be said about the faceless disconnection and how I fell like I can say anything to a person that way.

Dive Bar

It wasn't the smell of old smoke and the fresh air rushing in, it was the smell of everything. It combined and rolled into this growing feeling of sadness. The ceiling was dropped so low I could run my hand across the blackened tiles. I'm sure they used to be bright shinny silver that reflected light into the now dark dust covered corners. The guy's bathroom was a hallway with a toilet at the end of it and a smudged mirror from waist high up on the left side. It was positioned in such a way that if someone came barging in they could catch your eye and see what you were holding in a glance. I tried to situate myself so all they saw was my back, but exposed myself on the right side to a quick glance down the tunnel of piss. I only call it this because only twenty minutes after getting there pee was covering the floor. Stickers coverd the far wall too, white squares with a picture of unraveled TP saying something about poopoo and food. A green sticker used to be on the inside of the door, streaks of lime green show the direction at the attempted removal. There was a room next door full of smelly people that when the door the sweat stink of that kid from middle school's armpit would waft into the bar.