Watch what happens

I want the remote control from Click. Ridiculous and predictable movie plots aside, it seems like the right moments are over in a flash while the long ones stretch out interminably. If we have 70-90 years average on this earth, I think we should be able to spend more of that time how we want to.

I would spend more of my time listening to Michael Buble. His smooth baritone reminds me of Frank and Dean, my two favorite men. My musical tastes are all over the board, but there's something about MB that keeps me in a romantic mood all day -- dreaming of simpler times and kick-ass fashion, smoky lounges and dancing on Friday nights. Or maybe just a candlelight dinner for two...(ooh. There's an idea.)

Then there would be the writing. I love this little blog, and the personal journal I keep at home, but I have scraps of stories and the shell of a play that I've started so many times over the years, and when I finally pull it out I end up staring at the page for ten minutes before I decide to pursue something that just doesn't ask as much of my soul. I don't know if it's fear of failure, or fear of success, or just a fear of what I may find if I look more closely.

I would spin out that one-week vacation or weekend getaway until I couldn't stand it anymore. Why wouldn't you extend time in a new environment so you could overload your senses with new sights, smells, and tastes? What would an exploration be without the heightened tension of "so much to see, so little time"? I don't want to choose between parasailing and visiting historic sites -- let me do it all.

Most of all, I would spread out the summer. Languid, lazy mornings...sun-soaked afternoons...breezy nights on a beach lit by stars. It's so close I can taste it; when I look out the window at work I'm teased by the glow.

Of course, I don't have that remote. I don't think I ever will, though Sarah would criticize that line of thinking as being needlessly negative. :) What I do have is time wasted that I could be putting more toward the things that will make me feel whole. Work is a necessity, and I enjoy being productive. But what about the time I spend angry? What about the minutes and seconds I waste trying to find the right way to say something instead of just letting it out? And what the hell am I doing with all of this worry?

It's time to turn off Michael Buble, and turn on Lady Gaga -- she helps me get things done.

Let me see if you can ride it...

Friends...

This morning I got an email from the Chevy Riders in Cleveland. I signed up about two weeks ago on their Web site to be considered for a 2010 Chevy Rider position -- to be one of those people who drives the newest model to concerts and events around the city -- and now I'm a finalist!


There are two rounds of voting, and I need your help. If you go to www.chevy-riders.com/cleveland starting tomorrow, you can cast your vote to make me a Rider!

Tell your friends, tell your family, tell that annoying guy who sits next to you at work...hell, shout it out to the girl in the Chevy that's in front of you at the red light!

Love and thanks!

The music of my heart

This morning on Elvis Duran, they began a discussion about music that reminds us of different events in our life. For intern Loren, Darude's "Sandstorm" reminds her of a car accident she was in while the song was playing. Elvis, meanwhile, loves the good vibes of B.O.B.'s "Beautiful Girls". 

That got me thinking, and I realized that I use music to define my life on a much deeper level than it would appear. Of course, my post titles are nearly always song lyrics; beyond that, though, whenever I listen to particular types of music I can call to mind the event or season that made the music significant. 

When I hear Stadium Arcadium, I remember the Thursday of finals week 2006. After breakfast with the president of LCC Chris asked me if I wanted to get lunch. We went to the Subway on Mentor Avenue, then newly constructed, after which he asked if we could stop at the record store to pick up the CD. It released on Tuesday, he told me, and he was absolutely in love with RHCP.

Shortly after that we began dating, and I have a mental "relationship soundtrack" for each stage of the 9 months or so that we were together. Stadium Arcadium was the spring...and Fischerspooner's Odyssey was the summer. I get flashbacks whenever I hear that electropop on the radio, and whenever I put the CD in my car stereo I'm thrown back to what was one of the most exciting summers of my life.

We parted ways briefly right after I left for OWU, and when we got back together in October the album de la saison was Incubus's Morning View. "The Warning" still puts me in mind of fall, no matter what time of year it really is.

There is one song on my iTunes that's been there since 2005. I bought the entire album after hearing one song, and no matter where life took me between then and now I never forgot it. Newsong's More Life has a particular track, number 8, "When God Made You". Brian and I were discovering how deep our connection then was, and falling in love with each other. Even then I think we both knew that this was it, we were meant to spend forever together. When we broke up I refused to listen to the song; if I caught a glimpse of the title in my iTunes library the sadness would linger for the rest of the day. And when we got back together in January, it was the first song that came into my head.

It's the song that will play at our wedding, for our first dance.

There are so many more songs that bring back memories, both happy and sad: "As If We Never Said Goodbye" from Sunset Boulevard... Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody"... Hell, even "Graduation" by Vitamin C (remember that one?) It's almost ridiculous.

So, what songs tell your life story?

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...

Hooray for going green! Last night, after a harrowing adventure that led to one of my best life decisions ever, I became the proud owner of a Diamondback Lustre One -- it's pretty, it's pink, it's 21-speed, and thanks to the team at Dick's Sporting Goods I got a great deal and an even better experience.

And now, for my life lesson: I will never, never, NEVER shop at Wal-Mart again. (Notice that I'm not linking them, either; I won't be an accessory to your shopping experience.) I've heard the hype about what a ghetto-awful place it is, and I know about their tendency to union-bust and commit other questionable hiring practices, but hey -- I'm a broke college grad who has to stretch a penny as far as it will go, and for a long time the best way to do that was to shop at the store from hell. Last night, however, was just too far.


I went to the Wal-Mart Web site to check out a bike I was interested in purchasing. Even with the sale price on my beloved new DB, I was in the market to spend at least $75 less. I found the bike, a Next Power Climber, for quite a reasonable price and called the closest store to me to see if they did, in fact, have it in stock.

That phone call should have been my first warning sign.

First, it took them more than five minutes to even get somebody to take my call. This may not seem like a long time, but when you're waiting on the line that means you aren't doing other valuable things with your time. In that time I could have been to my car and well on my way to the store myself -- calling is supposed to save time. I decided to overlook it, though, when the associate who finally answered my call said that yes, they have one or two assembled floor models available. I planned to go in after dinner.

Fast-forward to 6:30 pm. I'm at the store, in the bike section...and there are no Power Climbers. This in itself is frustrating, but what is more frustrating is that we've been standing in the same aisle looking at the other models for nearly ten minutes and we've been ignored by the only associate to walk by. Oh well, maybe they have another model in the back. We stroll over to the "Site to Store" area (formerly layaway, of course) and press the button for assistance. While we're waiting, I see a Power Climber sitting there -- oh excitement! Until I look closer, that is, and realize that it's been tagged for repair.

Three associates walk out of the back room, taking no notice of the two customers standing there waiting. The fourth drags himself over. "You guys waiting for something?" I calmly explain that we'd like some assistance with the bicycles, particularly backstock. "[Name redacted] should be over here...oh [name], where are you..." If you're hearing a singsongy voice, you're hearing it right. A few minutes go by, and we walk back over to the bikes. Meanwhile, they've paged the associate in question, who walks right past us to see what they want. We hear snippets of the conversation -- the snippets in which said associate directs someone else to help us, he's doing something.

I feel sorry for the kid who came over. He was new (which we didn't know for sure at the time, but was pretty obvious), and when I told him what I wanted the expression on his face was akin to that of livestock just before the slaughter. Still, he was a trooper. He looked over the defective model and disappeared into the back to see what they had available. A few minutes later he walks back out: "Just a minute, ma'am." I can tell where this is going.

Yes, yes, I was right! Ten more minutes of waiting, during which time a Customer Service Manager approaches and asks if we're being helped. I told her what had transpired; satisfied that we weren't totally ignored, she walked away. Sadly, after that point we were in fact totally ignored and, as you can tell from the beginning of the story, we walked out without buying the bike. We did not walk out, however, before telling the management team about our terrible experience and that no, we will not be shopping at Wal-Mart again.

Good products at reasonable prices are only part of the battle, no matter where you go. What makes a shopping experience worthwhile is the level of service you are provided, especially when you seek out that assistance. I don't blame the new associate for being thrown into an unfamiliar situation; still, it's unacceptable to show such blatant disregard for the people who are willing to drop a considerable amount of money in your store.

Will my refusal to patronise Wal-Mart cause their demise? I doubt it. But it will make a difference to those around me, who have seen and heard about my trouble, and it may cause them to think twice about where they choose to spend their money.