I stole this from a friend, but I thought it was so comically accurate that I could not resist posting it here. Because I've been wrapped up in football for the past several weeks, I thought it was only fitting. Enjoy, and ROLL TIDE!
Planning for the fall football season in the South is radically different from up North. For those who may be planning a football trip south, here are some helpful hints.
Women's Accessories:
NORTH: Chap Stick in back pocket and a $20 bill in the front pocket.
SOUTH: Louis Vuitton duffel with two lipsticks, waterproof mascara, and a fifth of bourbon. Money not necessary - that's what dates are for.
Stadium Size:
NORTH: College football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
SOUTH: High school football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
Fathers:
NORTH: Expect their daughters to understand Sylvia Plath.
SOUTH: Expect their daughters to understand pass interference.
Campus Decor:
NORTH: Statues of founding fathers.
SOUTH: Statues of Heisman Trophy winners (or National Championship-winning coaches).
Homecoming Queen:
NORTH: Also a physics major.
SOUTH: Also Miss America.
Heroes:
NORTH: Rudy Giuliani or JFK
SOUTH: Paul "Bear" Bryant or Archie & Peyton Manning
Getting Tickets:
NORTH: 5 days before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus.
SOUTH: 5 months before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus, make a large financial contribution, and put your name on a waiting list for tickets.
Friday Classes After a Thursday Night Game:
NORTH: Students and teachers are not sure they're going to the game because they have classes on Friday.
SOUTH: Teachers cancel Friday classes because they don't want to see the few hungover students who might actually make it to class.
Parking:
NORTH: An hour before game time, the University opens the campus for game parking.
SOUTH: RVs sporting their school flags begin arriving on Wednesday for the weekend festivities. The really faithful arrive on Tuesday.
ESPN College Game Day Live:
NORTH: A few students party in the dorm and watch ESPN on TV.
SOUTH: Every student wakes up, has a beer for breakfast, and rushes over to where ESPN is broadcasting Game Day Live to get on camera and wave to the idiots up north who wonder why Game Day Live is never broadcast from their campus.
Tailgating:
NORTH: Raw meat on a grill, beer with lime in it, listening to local radio station with truck tailgate down.
SOUTH: 30-foot custom pig-shaped smoker fires up a dawn. Cooking accompanied by live performance from the Dave Matthews Band (who came over during breaks to ask for a hit off the bottle of bourbon).
Getting to the Stadium:
NORTH: You ask, "Where's the stadium?" When you find it, you walk right in.
SOUTH: When you're near it, you'll hear it. On game day, the stadium itself is the state's third largest city.
Concessions:
NORTH: Drinks are served in a paper cup filled to the top with soda.
SOUTH: Drinks are served in a plastic souvenir cup filled less than halfway with soda to ensure enough room for the bourbon.
Shakers:
NORTH: If you have one, you use it sparingly after touchdowns to show your team spirit.
SOUTH: You have one, and you alternate between shaking it every play or so and using it to stir the bourbon into the soda.
When the National Anthem is Played:
NORTH: Stands are less than half full, and less than half of those in attendance stand up.
SOUTH: 100,000 fans, all standing, sing along in perfect four-part harmony. You may expect a military jet flyover or parachute landing.
The Smell in the Air After the First Score:
NORTH: Nothing changes.
SOUTH: Fireworks, Gunpowder (from the cannon in the end zone), with a touch of bourbon.
Fan Commentary (Male):
NORTH: "Nice play."
SOUTH: "Dammit, you slow sumbitch! Tackle him and break his legs!"
Fan Commentary (Female):
NORTH: "My, this is certainly a violent sport."
SOUTH: "Dammit, you slow sumbitch! Tackle him and break his legs!"
Announcers:
NORTH: Neutral and paid.
SOUTH: Announcer harmonizes with the crowd in the fight song, with a tear in his eye because he is so proud of his team.
After the Game:
NORTH: The stadium is empty way before the game ends.
SOUTH: Another rack of ribs goes on the smoker, while somebody goes to the nearest package store for more bourbon, and planning begins for next week's game.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions
I graduated from Cordova High School in 1999. By rule of logic, that means this year marks what should have been our 10-year class reunion. However the 55 living classmates have never, as a collective, exactly been experts in logical reasoning. Nor have we been experts in things like punctuality, thoughtfulness, negotiation, or responsibility. I had assumed these things might have changed as people matured. I certainly like to think I'm a better person now than I was at the age of 18, and I like to think I'll be a better person at 38 than I am now. There are those in my class who would say the same things about themselves, including the people who pitched in to plan what would have been a lovely event last weekend and the people who readily gave a response of "I'll be there" or "I won't be able to attend." I'm not here to write about those people, though: I'm here to write about the rest of the story.
A couple of months ago, a group of our classmates began planning our reunion. After vetting potential venues, food options, dates and times, activities, and other considerations, debating the issue of whether to make this a bring-your-kids or a don't-bring-your-kids event, tracking down and contacting as many of our classmates as feasible, and trying to fairly weigh feedback about the plans, it turns out that we will not, in fact, be able to have our reunion. Why not? Well, what we planned (and by "we," I should really say that mostly I mean Julie, Jenny, Nikki, and Tammy, and not myself) was was to have a reserved night at Black Rock Bistro with heavy hors d'ouvres (priced at $25 per person with a cash bar) so that we could just have a nice evening to catch up with each other. We thought that was reasonable, easy, and free-form enough to suit the collective personality of our class. The catch was that in order to hold the reservation at that price, we needed 40 people. Now, as I said earlier, there are 55 of us remaining, and many of our classmates are also in relationships. If half of our class had committed, and half of those had brought dates, we'd have had 41. I didn't personally think that was too ambitious a goal. Brother, was I wrong.
We set an RSVP (and pay-your-money) deadline one week before the scheduled event. We ended up with about 29 commitments. Just shoot me. 29? Seriously? I realize that we couldn't find a few people. I realize that a few people live outside the area, that a few people have to work, and that a few people have other obligations (meaning they're in rehab or jail - yeah, I said it). I also realize that there were a few people we were disinclined to invite for various reasons (like our drug addicts, drug manufacturers, known troubled alcoholics, and domestic violence offenders - yeah, I said that, too). What I can't figure out is why the remaining majority of the class couldn't get their act together and give us a simple "yes" or "no." It's not even the people who just said "no" who bother me. You don't want to come? Fine. Thanks for telling me. No hard feelings. If you don't want to come and don't tell us or if you do want to come and don't give us an answer and expect to just show up the day of the event thinking you can pay at the door or even pay us back later, that seriously bothers me.
We did have a response that bothered me, but it was from one of the people I mentioned before in that whole "disinclined to invite" category. It said that we shouldn't try to have something nice because our class had never been civilized and wouldn't attend anything short of a drunken throwdown in a cow pasture. (Believe me, that's the abridged version.) I responded to that with a simple statement that if anyone wanted to have such a party, they could knock themselves out, but that I was not white trash. Still, I say if anyone wants to have such a party, you go right ahead. I'm not coming. The original planners have given up. We will be attending the homecoming football game Friday, and if we see classmates, that's great. If our classmates want to hang out somewhere after the game, that's also great.
In conclusion, I'd like to say that for some of us, this whole process has been, understandably, extremely frustrating and disappointing. My only hope is that we have better luck in 10 more years.
A couple of months ago, a group of our classmates began planning our reunion. After vetting potential venues, food options, dates and times, activities, and other considerations, debating the issue of whether to make this a bring-your-kids or a don't-bring-your-kids event, tracking down and contacting as many of our classmates as feasible, and trying to fairly weigh feedback about the plans, it turns out that we will not, in fact, be able to have our reunion. Why not? Well, what we planned (and by "we," I should really say that mostly I mean Julie, Jenny, Nikki, and Tammy, and not myself) was was to have a reserved night at Black Rock Bistro with heavy hors d'ouvres (priced at $25 per person with a cash bar) so that we could just have a nice evening to catch up with each other. We thought that was reasonable, easy, and free-form enough to suit the collective personality of our class. The catch was that in order to hold the reservation at that price, we needed 40 people. Now, as I said earlier, there are 55 of us remaining, and many of our classmates are also in relationships. If half of our class had committed, and half of those had brought dates, we'd have had 41. I didn't personally think that was too ambitious a goal. Brother, was I wrong.
We set an RSVP (and pay-your-money) deadline one week before the scheduled event. We ended up with about 29 commitments. Just shoot me. 29? Seriously? I realize that we couldn't find a few people. I realize that a few people live outside the area, that a few people have to work, and that a few people have other obligations (meaning they're in rehab or jail - yeah, I said it). I also realize that there were a few people we were disinclined to invite for various reasons (like our drug addicts, drug manufacturers, known troubled alcoholics, and domestic violence offenders - yeah, I said that, too). What I can't figure out is why the remaining majority of the class couldn't get their act together and give us a simple "yes" or "no." It's not even the people who just said "no" who bother me. You don't want to come? Fine. Thanks for telling me. No hard feelings. If you don't want to come and don't tell us or if you do want to come and don't give us an answer and expect to just show up the day of the event thinking you can pay at the door or even pay us back later, that seriously bothers me.
We did have a response that bothered me, but it was from one of the people I mentioned before in that whole "disinclined to invite" category. It said that we shouldn't try to have something nice because our class had never been civilized and wouldn't attend anything short of a drunken throwdown in a cow pasture. (Believe me, that's the abridged version.) I responded to that with a simple statement that if anyone wanted to have such a party, they could knock themselves out, but that I was not white trash. Still, I say if anyone wants to have such a party, you go right ahead. I'm not coming. The original planners have given up. We will be attending the homecoming football game Friday, and if we see classmates, that's great. If our classmates want to hang out somewhere after the game, that's also great.
In conclusion, I'd like to say that for some of us, this whole process has been, understandably, extremely frustrating and disappointing. My only hope is that we have better luck in 10 more years.
Monday, October 5, 2009
A Rooneyesque Rant
So just in case you're keeping track, it's currently National Mental Illness Awareness Week, World Space Week, Fire Prevention Week, Nuclear Medicine Week, Great Books Week, National 4-H Week, IFAW's Animal Action Week, National Newspaper Week, and Media Literacy Week. It's also Energy Awareness Month, Celiac Disease Awareness Month, Cyber Security Awareness Month, Spina Bifida Awareness Month, Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Down Syndrome Awareness Month, National Disability Employment Awareness Month, and Domestic Violence Awareness Month. It's also the month selected to become (more) aware of SIDS, brain injuy, lupus, and liver disease. It's Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual History Month as well as Adopt-a-Dog Month. It's also UNICEF Month, and it all kicked off Thursday with World Vegetarian Day. We're all very aware right now, aren't we?
It's not that I have a problem with any one of these causes. I think each of them probably merits a time of focused campaign attention and deserves some time in the national spotlight. I'm not sure, however, that lumping them all together like this does any good at all for any of the causes individually. I didn't know about most of these until I started looking into it. I knew Domestic Violence Awareness Month for somewhat obvious reasons, and I knew Breast Cancer Awareness Month because, well, everyone is onboard with saving the boobs. I vaguely remember something about Media Literacy Week from graduate school, and I'm fairly certain that I'd heard of National 4-H Week before. World Space Week interests me as it may influence my TV viewing habits. (For those of you who don't know, I'm addicted to the Science Channel and everything on TV related to space and physics.) I was totally unaware however, of most of these awareness periods.
For example, I had no idea that celiac disease had its own month in the calendar. It's a bad thing, for sure, but is the inability to digest wheat gluten really on par with Down Syndrome and breast cancer? Why do some things get the whole month while others only get a week or even a day? What makes vegetarianism any less warranted of seven days than the rapidly-dying newspaper industry? Why does cyber security merit an entire month when mental illness awareness merits only a week? Who decides these things? It seems that some of them come from Congressional resolutions. I don't suppose anyone in Congress can be bothered with looking at the calendar and deciding that October is an awfully crowded time of the year to try to increase awareness about anything else.
If you're involved in any cause that doesn't yet have a day, week, or month of awareness or observation, when your organization goes to pick that special time of year, do us all a favor and leave October out of it. I think we have all we can manage. Besides, if we're so busy learning about all these issues, when do we get to have Halloween?
It's not that I have a problem with any one of these causes. I think each of them probably merits a time of focused campaign attention and deserves some time in the national spotlight. I'm not sure, however, that lumping them all together like this does any good at all for any of the causes individually. I didn't know about most of these until I started looking into it. I knew Domestic Violence Awareness Month for somewhat obvious reasons, and I knew Breast Cancer Awareness Month because, well, everyone is onboard with saving the boobs. I vaguely remember something about Media Literacy Week from graduate school, and I'm fairly certain that I'd heard of National 4-H Week before. World Space Week interests me as it may influence my TV viewing habits. (For those of you who don't know, I'm addicted to the Science Channel and everything on TV related to space and physics.) I was totally unaware however, of most of these awareness periods.
For example, I had no idea that celiac disease had its own month in the calendar. It's a bad thing, for sure, but is the inability to digest wheat gluten really on par with Down Syndrome and breast cancer? Why do some things get the whole month while others only get a week or even a day? What makes vegetarianism any less warranted of seven days than the rapidly-dying newspaper industry? Why does cyber security merit an entire month when mental illness awareness merits only a week? Who decides these things? It seems that some of them come from Congressional resolutions. I don't suppose anyone in Congress can be bothered with looking at the calendar and deciding that October is an awfully crowded time of the year to try to increase awareness about anything else.
If you're involved in any cause that doesn't yet have a day, week, or month of awareness or observation, when your organization goes to pick that special time of year, do us all a favor and leave October out of it. I think we have all we can manage. Besides, if we're so busy learning about all these issues, when do we get to have Halloween?
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Double Standard
From January of 2001 until January of 2009, I was berated as “unpatriotic,” “un-American,” and “mean” for making fun of the President of the United States. I was told that we have to cut him some slack, that he has the hardest job in the world, that he can’t make everyone happy, that everyone makes mistakes, and that no matter whether or not we agree with him, he’s the President, and we should respect him. In an effort to keep as many people as possible open to my views, I tried to hold my tongue at least publicly. I never once let loose in public and lambasted George W. Bush as an idiot, a war-monger, a liar, or a panderer, even though I believe he was every single one of those things. I refrained from exposing myself to ridicule from the neo-cons of the world because it seemed as though unwavering support for the highest office in the land was the only way to convince everyone I wasn’t a Palestinian-sympathizing Commie terrorist in cahoots with the North Koreans AND Al-Qaeda. Now, it seems, the tables have turned.
Now, when I log onto Facebook, my homepage is filled with anti-Obama posts calling the President of the United States everything from a propagandist to a foreign-born Islamic jihadist. I’m not amused. How is it that the same people who demanded my respect for the Office of the President (and by association, the man holding it) so easily turn their backs when the shoe is on the other foot? Did you suddenly become unpatriotic, as you called me? Are you just now a mean-spirited person who can’t understand that political differences of opinion are what make our system work? When I voiced my opinion about Bush, I was a bad guy. I was evil. I should move to Canada, you said. Even worse, I should move to *gasp* Europe, you said. If I didn’t like it, I could leave it. If I didn’t agree with every fart noise that moron made, I should be locked up in Gitmo without a trial for the rest of my life. But you dare to say the most vicious and vile things about the new occupant of the Oval Office, and I’m expected to agree with you? I’m expected to support you when you tear down the things in which I believe, but I wasn’t allowed to do it to the things in which you believed for the past eight years? No, I say.
I don’t do double standards. If you want to say the things you’re saying about Obama, it’s a free country. I want dialogue. I want bipartisanship. I know Obama’s not perfect. I know no politician is perfect. I know that no person on Earth is perfect. The system isn’t perfect. The legislation isn’t perfect. We have differences of opinion, and that’s wonderful. However, don’t expect me to jump on your bandwagon because of the way I was shamed and repressed during the Bush years. I’m a liberal living in the most conservative state in the nation, and that’s not easy, because everyone assumes I have the same political beliefs as most everyone else. I’m also a Christian, and that makes a lot of people’s heads want to explode because they can’t reconcile “Christian” with “liberal” because of the moral majority garbage they’ve been fed about what makes a fine, upstanding American. I’m tired of being the bad guy for all of you. I believe what I believe, and I’m proud of my morals and values. They may not be the same as yours, but we’re all Americans, and we’re all in this together. If you can’t agree with that, then maybe you’re the one who should get out.
Now, when I log onto Facebook, my homepage is filled with anti-Obama posts calling the President of the United States everything from a propagandist to a foreign-born Islamic jihadist. I’m not amused. How is it that the same people who demanded my respect for the Office of the President (and by association, the man holding it) so easily turn their backs when the shoe is on the other foot? Did you suddenly become unpatriotic, as you called me? Are you just now a mean-spirited person who can’t understand that political differences of opinion are what make our system work? When I voiced my opinion about Bush, I was a bad guy. I was evil. I should move to Canada, you said. Even worse, I should move to *gasp* Europe, you said. If I didn’t like it, I could leave it. If I didn’t agree with every fart noise that moron made, I should be locked up in Gitmo without a trial for the rest of my life. But you dare to say the most vicious and vile things about the new occupant of the Oval Office, and I’m expected to agree with you? I’m expected to support you when you tear down the things in which I believe, but I wasn’t allowed to do it to the things in which you believed for the past eight years? No, I say.
I don’t do double standards. If you want to say the things you’re saying about Obama, it’s a free country. I want dialogue. I want bipartisanship. I know Obama’s not perfect. I know no politician is perfect. I know that no person on Earth is perfect. The system isn’t perfect. The legislation isn’t perfect. We have differences of opinion, and that’s wonderful. However, don’t expect me to jump on your bandwagon because of the way I was shamed and repressed during the Bush years. I’m a liberal living in the most conservative state in the nation, and that’s not easy, because everyone assumes I have the same political beliefs as most everyone else. I’m also a Christian, and that makes a lot of people’s heads want to explode because they can’t reconcile “Christian” with “liberal” because of the moral majority garbage they’ve been fed about what makes a fine, upstanding American. I’m tired of being the bad guy for all of you. I believe what I believe, and I’m proud of my morals and values. They may not be the same as yours, but we’re all Americans, and we’re all in this together. If you can’t agree with that, then maybe you’re the one who should get out.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
My Top 3 Moments of Musical Euphoria
3.) First Listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble’s cover of “Little Wing”
I was about 16 by the time I discovered Stevie Ray Vaughan thanks to VH1’s Legends series. It was like Behind the Music, but for performers of a more celebrated status. I immediately picked up Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble’s Greatest Hits (the first volume), and decided that indeed, Stevie Ray was “a black man trapped in a white man’s body,” as had been stated in the TV show, and that I had found my new thing. My Britpop obsession had not exactly run its course, but it had reached its plateau, and musically, I needed something in which to sink my teeth. By the time I reached “Little Wing,” a six-minute instrumental cover of a Jimi Hendrix classic, I was pretty well hooked anyway. “Little Wing,” however, was a totally transcendental experience of guitar blues-rock genius, and if I’ve ever become one with a piece of music at all, it happened then. No lyrics, just soul. And hey, it continues to assure me that yes, good things CAN come out of Texas.
2.) First Concert Ever
Mom took me to see Alabama when I was 7. I don’t remember much about it, except that I had gotten my first cowboy hat to wear to the show, and that I was totally fascinated by live music from then on. I also remember that Alabama put on a great show in the mid-80’s, which probably contributed to their winning Artist of the Decade from the Academy of Country Music.
1.) First Oasis Concert
I’ve found that most rock fans have one band with whom they bond musically. The first time I saw the “Wonderwall” video, I knew I had found my band. It was the first time I had heard Oasis, and from everything I saw, it was everything I could ever love. They weren’t terribly attractive (unibrows to boot), but they were obviously obsessed with The Beatles, my own fixation at the time, and were going to serve as my bridge to all things Britpop. I listened to (What's the Story) Morning Glory? every single day of the summer of 1997. I bought each album the day it came out. I dubbed them to cassettes to listen in my car. I bought VHS tapes, then DVDs. I bought t-shirts, posters, anything I could find. I waited for a concert. And I waited. And I waited. Through high school and its miseries, through college and its joys, until graduate school, I waited. Finally, they were coming to Atlanta, and I was old enough to go. I bought tickets; I counted days. By the time the show finally got there, I was so excited that I shook the whole way through Kasabian and Jet. From the time Oasis took the stage until they wrapped with a cover of “My Generation,” I was in a state of sublime bliss. I screamed, danced, sang, clapped, stomped, and did everything else a wacko 15-year-old fangirl does at a concert, except for the fact that I was almost 24. I’ve never had so much fun or ridden such a high. It was perfection. My obsession continues to this day. I even own the Lord Don't Slow Me Down DVD in Region 2 format, even though I can't watch it. If anybody's looking for a gift for me, a region-free DVD player would be nice.
I was about 16 by the time I discovered Stevie Ray Vaughan thanks to VH1’s Legends series. It was like Behind the Music, but for performers of a more celebrated status. I immediately picked up Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble’s Greatest Hits (the first volume), and decided that indeed, Stevie Ray was “a black man trapped in a white man’s body,” as had been stated in the TV show, and that I had found my new thing. My Britpop obsession had not exactly run its course, but it had reached its plateau, and musically, I needed something in which to sink my teeth. By the time I reached “Little Wing,” a six-minute instrumental cover of a Jimi Hendrix classic, I was pretty well hooked anyway. “Little Wing,” however, was a totally transcendental experience of guitar blues-rock genius, and if I’ve ever become one with a piece of music at all, it happened then. No lyrics, just soul. And hey, it continues to assure me that yes, good things CAN come out of Texas.
2.) First Concert Ever
Mom took me to see Alabama when I was 7. I don’t remember much about it, except that I had gotten my first cowboy hat to wear to the show, and that I was totally fascinated by live music from then on. I also remember that Alabama put on a great show in the mid-80’s, which probably contributed to their winning Artist of the Decade from the Academy of Country Music.
1.) First Oasis Concert
I’ve found that most rock fans have one band with whom they bond musically. The first time I saw the “Wonderwall” video, I knew I had found my band. It was the first time I had heard Oasis, and from everything I saw, it was everything I could ever love. They weren’t terribly attractive (unibrows to boot), but they were obviously obsessed with The Beatles, my own fixation at the time, and were going to serve as my bridge to all things Britpop. I listened to (What's the Story) Morning Glory? every single day of the summer of 1997. I bought each album the day it came out. I dubbed them to cassettes to listen in my car. I bought VHS tapes, then DVDs. I bought t-shirts, posters, anything I could find. I waited for a concert. And I waited. And I waited. Through high school and its miseries, through college and its joys, until graduate school, I waited. Finally, they were coming to Atlanta, and I was old enough to go. I bought tickets; I counted days. By the time the show finally got there, I was so excited that I shook the whole way through Kasabian and Jet. From the time Oasis took the stage until they wrapped with a cover of “My Generation,” I was in a state of sublime bliss. I screamed, danced, sang, clapped, stomped, and did everything else a wacko 15-year-old fangirl does at a concert, except for the fact that I was almost 24. I’ve never had so much fun or ridden such a high. It was perfection. My obsession continues to this day. I even own the Lord Don't Slow Me Down DVD in Region 2 format, even though I can't watch it. If anybody's looking for a gift for me, a region-free DVD player would be nice.
Friday, August 7, 2009
What have I done?
Yes, I did it. I caved. I have a blog. Why? I'll be wondering that for the rest of the day, I'm sure.
I'm going to have to figure this whole thing out. It may take me a little while to get the hang of it, but I hope to be creating something very interesting and at least a little bit entertaining before long.
So what's up with the title, anyway? I had trouble getting inspired, and I realized that "Between the [Something]" always worked well for me. I love the title of that children's show Between the Lions, and I think the phrases "read between the lines" and "something between the ears" are kind of cool. I then had to find something to get between. I settled on atoms partly because I've never seen between atoms, and in all probability, neither have you. I also thought about how if we get hung up on all the tiny things in life, we miss the big picture, but at the same time, it's the little things that can be so fascinating and pleasurable.
I'll probably hate this title in 10 minutes, the same as I do all the other titles I've ever written. Maybe not. Either way, it's too late now.
I'm going to have to figure this whole thing out. It may take me a little while to get the hang of it, but I hope to be creating something very interesting and at least a little bit entertaining before long.
So what's up with the title, anyway? I had trouble getting inspired, and I realized that "Between the [Something]" always worked well for me. I love the title of that children's show Between the Lions, and I think the phrases "read between the lines" and "something between the ears" are kind of cool. I then had to find something to get between. I settled on atoms partly because I've never seen between atoms, and in all probability, neither have you. I also thought about how if we get hung up on all the tiny things in life, we miss the big picture, but at the same time, it's the little things that can be so fascinating and pleasurable.
I'll probably hate this title in 10 minutes, the same as I do all the other titles I've ever written. Maybe not. Either way, it's too late now.
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