In which I battle PennDOT

Image via WikipediaImage via Wikipedia Image via WikipediaI don't drive.

No, I should be honest here. I can't drive.

I got my permit at 16, took driver's ed, and just never took the test. My permit expired. Between carpools and and mass transit, it never got urgent.

But since I don't actually know where I'll be living a year from now, I can't depend on trains and subways and buses being readily available. So I need to learn to drive. Again.

On October 4, I gathered up my ID info and my forms and took the bus to the PennDOT center in town. I signed in, took a number, sat down in the waiting area.

I then proceeded to pull out my things, so I could present them easily. As I checked against the form, it turned out something was missing.

It never occurred to me to see what the requirements to prove state residency are. I have a PennDOT-issues state ID. It never occurred to me that it wouldn't count.

So of course it doesn't. So I left, got back on the bus, went home. I dug up some tax forms and ate lunch, then headed back into town.

I signed in, took another number, organized my things again, and was called up to the counter. The guy behind the counter asked if I had my birth certificate.

Now, the form says I need my birth certificate or two of the other forms of ID listed. I really wasn't interested in dragging my Social Security card and my birth certificate around all day, so I had opted for "two other forms."

The PennDOT guy pointed to a sign on the wall and said that the requirements had changed. That said, I could still take the permit test, and if I passed I could bring my birth certificate in another day and they would issue the actual permit.

Fine. Whatever. I had made the trip (twice) and might as well take the test.

I passed easily, took my eye test, and had my form signed so that next time, they could just give me the permit.

On October 11, I re-gathered all my things, including my birth certificate, and got back on the bus to take get my permit. I fully expected them to make me re-take the test, but I could deal with that.

So I got to the PennDOT center, and... they were closed.

Confused, I looked carefully and noticed a very small sign that explains that, due to the Columbus Day holiday, the PennDOT center is closed on Saturday.

So: still no permit. Maybe some higher power is telling me I'm not supposed to drive?

The good

Well... at least I passed my permit test.

Update

10/18/2008 -- Success at last. I showed my documents, wrote my check, and left with me permit. Any PA drivers want to barter for driving lessons?

In which I attempt to get fit

Image via WikipediaImage via WikipediaImage via WikipediaImage via WikipediaImage via Wikipedia

So Chris and I decided to do the One Hundred Push Up Project.

When we did our initial assessments, Chris managed to do 50 push ups in his trial.  He's right on the borderline of the Project being completely useless.

I did... 3.  Well, if I'm allowed to cheat and do knee push ups, I can do 12, but that's still pretty sad.  And Chris won't let me cheat... and since he's only doing it to keep me motivated (since he obviously doesn't need to), I guess I can't.

"That's not pathetic," he said.  "I'm just stronger than you."

"Well, sure... but 20 times stronger?"

"It's not 20 times."

"Fine.  Just under 20 times stronger."

"...Yes."

For the sake of accuracy, it's 16 2/3.

So I'm pretty sure this 6-week program is going to end up taking most of a year, and that's assuming I don't plateau out.  But either way, wish me luck, and I'll keep you posted.

The Good

I don't exercise nearly enough.  Even though Chris doesn't need to do this, I'm glad he is to encourage me.

Update

9/21/08

So I'm now legitimately up to 12 push ups as my max.  It's four times my original max, which is good.  It's not enough to pass the week 2 test, though, so I'm currently repeating week 2.  Sigh.

10/8/08

After a few false starts, I'm chugging along through week 3.  I can do 16 push ups in a row -- barely.

10/28/2008

Yeah, so I failed the post-week-4 endurance test, so I'm repeating week 4.

Also, Chris wants to use the formula to start doing sit ups on our "off" days.  Since we haven't been spectacular on our every-other-day routine, I'm not sure how this will work out, but we'll see.

1/10/2009

And once again, I fail, this time in the face of the post-week-5 test (yes, it took me that long to repeat week 4 and do week 5). I can do 45 in a row, so go me. I need to do 46 to go on to week 6. Bah.

In which I visit the Tribute WTC Visitor Center

Image via Wikipedia

A scale model of the World Trade Center greets visitors.  Playing on a television screen on the wall, and projected onto the white plastic scale-model buildings stretching overhead, is a video about the culture and community of the World Trade Center: two people in Twin Towers costumes dance for children a la Mickey Mouse at Disney World; happy couples dine at Windows on the World; shoppers head underground to buy everything but groceries; parents bring their children to work, so that they can enjoy concerts festivals, and puppet shows; office workers hear live music through their windows.

The World Trade Center is referred to as both a city unto itself and a second home.

A panel keeps the pleasant nostaliga seperate.

This panel tells the tale of the 1993 bombing in the underground garage of the north Tower, which killed six people, including a pregnant woman, and injured over a thousand.

The back wall of the center is a bright sky blue, broken up by pictures of "Missing" flyers, first one, then a few, until the wall is more black-and-white that blue and the flyers overlap.  An older woman calls, "Here he is!" and her companions gather around one man's picture.

Across from this wall is another, exhibiting artificats of Septermber 11, 2001: a piece of airplane, parts of a building, cell phones and wallets, a souvenir stuffed lamb and guns.  Between the two walls, more panels feture quotes from survivors and audio or rescue calls.  One firefighter's mangled coat and helmet stand in a display case next to a television screen playing the story of the rescue and recovery efforts.

There are two memorial lists around the corner.  One is an alphabetical list of those killed in the 1993 and 2001 attacks.  The other is a projection, listing the same people and their ages, organized by affiliation: firehouse, business, police station, airplane.  The walls around these lists are actually display cases full of photographs and mementoes donated by family members. Visitors choke back tears, or give up and cry openly.  The Tribute Center is prepared for this: on every bench sits at least one box of tissues, and volunteers rush to offer tissues to weeping visitors in other parts of the Center.

Visitors go down a flight of stairs to the final gallery, a white room ringed with images and quotes of the world offering its sympathy and good wishes.  Stories told by survivors and family members play through earphones, and slips of paper decorate the walls in what becomes a mural-like guest book, offering visitors' names and hometowns as well as their thoughts and prayers.  Many of the displayed sheets show not paragraphs, but pictures drawn by young children, who label them, "I miss you, Daddy."

The good

You know, this really is a phenomenal museum and memorial.  I only hope the official memorial center they're building will be jsut as nice -- and I'm sure it will be.

Linky goodness

I really don't want to get into detail about why right now, but I highly recommend this series on metal illness by Dave at The Prodigal.  I want to applaud Dave both on the candidness of his writing and the thoroughness of his research.

In which I do things before I die

Image via WikipediI've had a list of things to do before I die for a while now -- at least a year and a half or two years ago. The last few years, I have made it a New Year's Resolution to do at least one item off the list, and I also use the list to keep my 43things in line. But I've never made the whole list public.

Then, I read this post and liked the idea of talking about this sort of thing, telling people what I hope to do and finding out what their plans are. So, for the first time:

• Take dance lessons (finite or ongoing) -- IN PROGRESS
• Take shooting lessons (finite)
• Take Spanish lessons (ongoing)
• Take yoga lessons (ongoing)
• Take a wine tasting course (finite)
• Write poetry
• Join a poetry group (ongoing)
• Do NaNoWriMo
• Write a non-NaNoWriMo novel
• Publish a short story
• Write more letters
• Go on a writers’ retreat
• Join a choir that’s actually worth joining (min 4 parts – ongoing)
• Get a solo and not freak out about it
• Join a book club (ongoing)
• See the Baltimore Aquarium. Not puke.
• See Jerusalem.
• See Egypt
  
• See Stratford-on-Avon
• Take high tea the proper British way
• Take part in a proper Japanese tea ceremony
• See Walden Pond
  
  
• See the Louvre
• See the Vatican --
  
• See the ruins of Pompeii  -- 
• See South America  (esp Indian ruins)
  
• See Australia
  
• See New Zealand
  
• See a kiwi (the bird. Zoos acceptable)
• See a panda
• See a koala
• See Hong Kong
  
• See Los Angeles
  
• See Alcatraz
  
• See Seattle
  
• See the Mississippi river (not from a gambling boat)
• See the Grand Canyon
  
• See Ellis Island immigration center
  
  
• See the birthplace of Girl Scouting
• See Hawaii (including active volcano)
• See the northern lights
• Cruise to Alaska
• See a desert
• See a concentration camp ( internment camp ok)
• See part of the Underground Railroad
• See all 100 of AFI’s top movies
• Read Ulysses. -- IN PROGRESS
• Read The Lord of the Rings
• Read The Sandman
• Read the apocrypha -- IN PROGRESS
• Fast
• Adopt a dog
• Learn to drive -- IN PROGRESS
• Learn to juggle
• Make sushi
• Make sangria
• Perfect my mother’s brownie frosting
• Grow a vegetable garden
• Grow an herb garden
• Grow a butterfly garden
• Volunteer
• Give blood
  
  
• Attend the Olympics (opening or closing ceremony preferred)
• See a taping of a TV show
• Take a ghost tour (a real one, not halloween bullshit)
  
  
• See U2 in concert
• Get a museum membership. Attend regularly

Note: There's been a lot going on lately, and there's even more to come. As a result, I'd like to open a call for guest posters. In return, I'd be happy to return the favor in the next few weeks. Reply in the comments and we'll talk.

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In which I am happy

Image via Wikipedia

It's been a hectic week, and an off month due to some personal stuff (if you need to know, you probably already do). So what I'm going to do here is an exercise that was recommended by Trent at The Simple Dollar.

Just try this little experiment tomorrow.

From the very start of the day, keep a little notepad with you and jot down everything that makes you feel genuinely happy inside. Don’t worry about whether it’s something big or something small - if you feel a twinge of happiness, jot it down.

Then, a day or two later, do it again. Make four or five little lists of the things that made you feel happiness during a given day - the things that made you feel good.

By now, you’ll have a few nice little lists. Go through them and eliminate any good feelings that make you feel bad when you look back on them, like silly frivolous purchases that were a rush when you made them but now feel like a waste to you.

The items remaining are a collection of the good things in your life. These are the things that bring you joy on a regular basis and provide the fuel for you to keep going.

So instead of a normal anecdote, I'm going to make this page an ongoing exercise. I'll update you from time to time. In return, what makes you happy? (Let's all keep it PG, please.)

• Dancing with Chris to a really good song
• Famous Dave's smoked salmon spread
• Realizing I have 5 more minutes left of break time than I planned for
• Positive feedback for my team newsletter at work
• Dreams that can be made into actual stories.
• Kayaking
• Waking up and feeling well-rested.
• Hearing a song so obscure I forgot it existed on the real, actual radio, and remembering how much I like it.
• Being held at the end of a long day
• Getting a hole-in-one in mini-golf
• Good hymns, sung properly
• Receiving validation from an authority figure I respect (I know it shouldn't, but there you are)
• Getting lots of varied friends together and seeing them all get along
• Devising a solid contingency plan to address an issue that worries me
• John Harvard's lobster bisque
• Soldiers coming home and being greeted by their dogs 
• The "Where the Hell is Matt?" videos 
• This video: songs that use the same four chords. 
• Getting the Christmas tree set up
• When everyone likes my baked brie

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In which I visit the Laundromat

Image via WikipediaAt first, the room looks blue.

 

The walls aren't blue.  They're white, with green tile trim.  The sporadically cracked tile on the floor isn't blue, either, but rather the pink-brown of fake sandstone.  A bright bank of gumball machines stands guard at the front door, and deep green potted plants and bright framed posters of flowers and line the walls.  But the heavy curtains blocking out the bright mid-afternoon sun are the same dirty-robin's-egg as the veneer of the washing machines, and the bluish shadows color the whole room.

 

The wall of blue is crenelated with alternating washing machines: double loader, triple loader.  The detergent wells do not all snap shut completely, so detergent bottles and watering cans sit on top of them, keeping sudsy water from escaping.  A tall potted plant sits on top of a washer.  Its upper branches splay against the mostly-white ceiling, which is marred by water stains, and bulges worryingly behind the ceiling fan.  A big-screen TV perched above the the machines, silent and dark, surveys the room.  Nearby, a scale stands under a yellow sign announcing, "Drop off service 1/2 LB to 10 LB Minimum $5."  a pile of neatly folded white blankets waits nearby on a wooden table, next to bulging duffel, laundry, and garbage bags.

 

 A matching table stands between banks of dryers.  It is surrounded by chairs: green and white metal folding chairs, and a white molded-plastic chair.  The tables are made of a yellow-brown wood that clashes with the dingy dryers and the pinkish floor tiles.

 

Near this table, laundry carts sit.  Black-brown rust peeks through their dingy, flaking paint.

 

Is dingy a color?  The dryers and carts might have been white once, or perhaps cream or pale yellow.  It's impossible to tell, though.  Now, they're just dingy, faded, aged.

 

A yellow sign reads:

We Are Not Responsible

Of Your Property

Watch Your Own

Property

 

In the back, fenced-off area, a sign warns, "No Admittance."  Behind the fence, garment bags hang from hangers on a rack, and laundry detergent -- $.50 a load -- lines a shelf.

 

At 3:00 the Laundromat is nearly empty, and the air is filled with the mixed scents of mildew and fabric softener.  By 4:00, a handful of customers sit, stare at their spinning clothes, and chat.  Sweet scents leak out of nearby bakeries and into the Laundromat.  Neighbors wander in an out, calling through the open door in English, Spanish, Yiddish.

 

The good

This was another assignment that I've never done anything with.  Not only am I pleased with the result, so was my professor.  This isn't quite the kind of thing you can pitch, though, is it? 

 

I hope you enjoyed it.