Sunday, June 7, 2009
Saturday, March 22, 2008
More Museums (#4)
Nothing exciting to report like last time. Although, this really annoying guy started ranting at me on the bus in tongues. He was going to chase me off the bus, I think, but I threw these rocks I found in my pocket at him.
LA County Natural History Museum (#3)
Sorry, it's been a while. I've been doing a lot of reading since my visits to the museums of LA.
Easily the most interesting museum I visited was the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. I was exploring the exhibits (I highly recommend it!) when I came across a door that was marked 'Employees Only.' Of course, who wouldn't find it all the more tempting to see what's on the other side? Well, maybe most people wouldn't just dash in like when nobody was looking and then march around like you owned the place, but I couldn't help myself.
In this one room, I found a lot of oddly shaped rocks laid out on a table. A few of them looked a little like chicken bones, but that was a vast minority. I quickly determined that this collection of worthless pebbles amongst the worth while bones must have been brought in because they came from the same place, likely to make sure nothing was missed when they were initially gathered. I took a good look at a few of the smaller rocks, made sure they were nothing special, and separated them into my hand. It felt great, helping out these scientists!
That's when one of the employees (The kind referred to on the sign, most likely) walked in. That's when I realized what it would looked like. In panic, I pocketed the pebbles. After a decently lengthy blank stare, the guy asked who I was. Before I could stop myself, I replied that I was the intern. Museums can have interns, right? Luckily, it must have made sense, because after some more blank stare he informed me that I didn't look like their intern. Naturally, I replied that I was the 'replacement intern,' for which I was granted even more of that ever present blank stare. Sensing that it was time to get out of there, I informed him that I would be right back. I was lying, turns out.
On my way out, I passed two more employees who were too wrapped up in their conversation to even notice me. Something about 'meta-carpals' and proof of a link between 'modern avians' and 'theropods.' Sounded interesting, I wish I could have stayed longer to find out more. Oh well.
In hindsight it's a good thing I didn't stay. As I was leaving, they went into the room I just came out of. Someone must have spilled their coffee, they way one of them was yelling. They'd probably ask me to get more, since I was the intern and all.
Easily the most interesting museum I visited was the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. I was exploring the exhibits (I highly recommend it!) when I came across a door that was marked 'Employees Only.' Of course, who wouldn't find it all the more tempting to see what's on the other side? Well, maybe most people wouldn't just dash in like when nobody was looking and then march around like you owned the place, but I couldn't help myself.
In this one room, I found a lot of oddly shaped rocks laid out on a table. A few of them looked a little like chicken bones, but that was a vast minority. I quickly determined that this collection of worthless pebbles amongst the worth while bones must have been brought in because they came from the same place, likely to make sure nothing was missed when they were initially gathered. I took a good look at a few of the smaller rocks, made sure they were nothing special, and separated them into my hand. It felt great, helping out these scientists!
That's when one of the employees (The kind referred to on the sign, most likely) walked in. That's when I realized what it would looked like. In panic, I pocketed the pebbles. After a decently lengthy blank stare, the guy asked who I was. Before I could stop myself, I replied that I was the intern. Museums can have interns, right? Luckily, it must have made sense, because after some more blank stare he informed me that I didn't look like their intern. Naturally, I replied that I was the 'replacement intern,' for which I was granted even more of that ever present blank stare. Sensing that it was time to get out of there, I informed him that I would be right back. I was lying, turns out.
On my way out, I passed two more employees who were too wrapped up in their conversation to even notice me. Something about 'meta-carpals' and proof of a link between 'modern avians' and 'theropods.' Sounded interesting, I wish I could have stayed longer to find out more. Oh well.
In hindsight it's a good thing I didn't stay. As I was leaving, they went into the room I just came out of. Someone must have spilled their coffee, they way one of them was yelling. They'd probably ask me to get more, since I was the intern and all.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
2. Slogging
So I was doing the rounds today and got to thinking. What am I doing? Sure, mud is cool and all, but what am I getting out of this?
I've actually had this conversation with myself quite a few times over the past years. I've been all over the place, to hundreds of bogs of verying properties, and eventually it all starts to get oi old. Once in a while I stumble on an odd example of flora or fauna that entertains me for a while, but it in the end it's just another entry in the log. The interminable log. Line after painstaking line of scientificly formatted data, bereft of life and feeling. I've tried injecting a little humor before but that's always frowned upon. I don't want to put my paycheck at risj risk.
Don't get me started on my social life. At first I enjoyed the solitude. I reveled in the seeming connection with the mists, the primordial contact of my boots dragging throug h the silt; but then I realized that this job isn't exactly a beacon of welcoming. People are put off by the smell (as I've mentioned before) as well as my ideas of society as described in muddy metaphors. I haven't gone on a date in at least 3 years... my memories have gone a bit muddy. Damnit there I go again. The same old words pervading my sentences, dragged from the mire of my wanderings.
I know there must be a purpose to all of this. Tomorrow I'm heading out to some place in Canada to check out some bog in a subarctic region. I can't imagine what the hell I'm supposed to find there, except more of the same. Just a little colder. I'd better pack some fleeces.
-- Scott Sluggwood-Graymire
I've actually had this conversation with myself quite a few times over the past years. I've been all over the place, to hundreds of bogs of verying properties, and eventually it all starts to get oi old. Once in a while I stumble on an odd example of flora or fauna that entertains me for a while, but it in the end it's just another entry in the log. The interminable log. Line after painstaking line of scientificly formatted data, bereft of life and feeling. I've tried injecting a little humor before but that's always frowned upon. I don't want to put my paycheck at risj risk.
Don't get me started on my social life. At first I enjoyed the solitude. I reveled in the seeming connection with the mists, the primordial contact of my boots dragging throug h the silt; but then I realized that this job isn't exactly a beacon of welcoming. People are put off by the smell (as I've mentioned before) as well as my ideas of society as described in muddy metaphors. I haven't gone on a date in at least 3 years... my memories have gone a bit muddy. Damnit there I go again. The same old words pervading my sentences, dragged from the mire of my wanderings.
I know there must be a purpose to all of this. Tomorrow I'm heading out to some place in Canada to check out some bog in a subarctic region. I can't imagine what the hell I'm supposed to find there, except more of the same. Just a little colder. I'd better pack some fleeces.
-- Scott Sluggwood-Graymire
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Tracking Our Progress - #2
I haven't posted in a couple days, I've been a bit preoccupied with things. Still looking for my grandfather's fountain pen, if you're wondering. I'm discouraged by my luck so far and I think I'll have to widen my search area. You know how they say a butterfly can flap its wings here and cause a hurricane in Asia? Small things can travel a long way sometimes. Those two things really aren't that similar. I'm not even sure why I tried to make that comparison. I guess it's not that bad, though.
So, something happened to me earlier tonight. I walked out of the apartment and was headed down the street to the convenience store to pick up some milk. There's this cute girl who works there, and I usually go out of my way to do milk runs when I know she's working. I forget her name, and I know she really doesn't notice me, but she's nice. Anyway, she usually works late, so that's when I go. Usually I get my errands done without much incident, but before I got far at all, I got accosted by a homeless man. There isn't a big problem in Rochester as long as you stay out of the abandoned subway, but they're around. I'd seen him before, and he seemed harmless, so I didn't think it would be a problem to ignore his solicitations. That didn't turn out to be correct.
He took a swing at me with his "will work for food" sign. Ironic, because it was the most actual effort I'd ever seen him make for a reward. He hit me, but since it was cardboard, that didn't bother me too much. He started chanting something, I don't remember what it was. It sounded like Latin. It actually sounded kinda creepy, thinking about it. Although it could just be my crappy memory enhancing it. I was trying to fend him off, but then he pulled out this weird looking knife and I got a little scared. I took several quick steps back, and lucky too, because it was then that a big rig came flying by and totally creamed the homeless guy. The driver stopped, about five seconds too late, and an ambulance came afterward and peeled him off the truck's grill. After they left, I looked around for the knife, but it was dark and I couldn't find it. After that I got the milk, failed to muster up the courage to talk to that girl, and went home.
Oh yeah! I almost forgot about the reason I named the post the way I did. Earlier today, before the whole hobo thing, I was thinking about the blog and thought of a great way to keep track of everything that happens to us. Google Maps! You probably know about it, they have satellite pictures of the whole planet pretty much, with roads and businesses marked and everything. You can even make your own landmarks and stuff, and I created a map for the blog! I don't know if the other two can add to it as well, but if they can't I'll take care of it. I like working with maps. Here's the link, and I'll add it to the sidebar permanently, too.
So, something happened to me earlier tonight. I walked out of the apartment and was headed down the street to the convenience store to pick up some milk. There's this cute girl who works there, and I usually go out of my way to do milk runs when I know she's working. I forget her name, and I know she really doesn't notice me, but she's nice. Anyway, she usually works late, so that's when I go. Usually I get my errands done without much incident, but before I got far at all, I got accosted by a homeless man. There isn't a big problem in Rochester as long as you stay out of the abandoned subway, but they're around. I'd seen him before, and he seemed harmless, so I didn't think it would be a problem to ignore his solicitations. That didn't turn out to be correct.
He took a swing at me with his "will work for food" sign. Ironic, because it was the most actual effort I'd ever seen him make for a reward. He hit me, but since it was cardboard, that didn't bother me too much. He started chanting something, I don't remember what it was. It sounded like Latin. It actually sounded kinda creepy, thinking about it. Although it could just be my crappy memory enhancing it. I was trying to fend him off, but then he pulled out this weird looking knife and I got a little scared. I took several quick steps back, and lucky too, because it was then that a big rig came flying by and totally creamed the homeless guy. The driver stopped, about five seconds too late, and an ambulance came afterward and peeled him off the truck's grill. After they left, I looked around for the knife, but it was dark and I couldn't find it. After that I got the milk, failed to muster up the courage to talk to that girl, and went home.
Oh yeah! I almost forgot about the reason I named the post the way I did. Earlier today, before the whole hobo thing, I was thinking about the blog and thought of a great way to keep track of everything that happens to us. Google Maps! You probably know about it, they have satellite pictures of the whole planet pretty much, with roads and businesses marked and everything. You can even make your own landmarks and stuff, and I created a map for the blog! I don't know if the other two can add to it as well, but if they can't I'll take care of it. I like working with maps. Here's the link, and I'll add it to the sidebar permanently, too.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Arrived in CA (#2)
Sorry for the delays, my flight got delayed twice. I should have taken a bus the entire way. At any rate, I'm finally in Los Angeles! The first thing I'll do tomorrow is go museum hopping. Tonight I'll ask around for popular restaurants and get a bite to eat.
During my ever so long wait, I read several spy novels. Good stuff! Especially the under-cover spies, getting essential intelligence directly from the enemy. What a fun thought. It makes sense, though. People tell you things if you get them to trust you, and what better way to quickly earn someone's trust than by convincing them you're on their side?
Anyway, I'm tired, so this post will have to be pretty short. Thanks, guys, for actually using my blog! If we're lucky, we'll get to hear from you again sometime.
Edit: Anybody know what mud-out is?
During my ever so long wait, I read several spy novels. Good stuff! Especially the under-cover spies, getting essential intelligence directly from the enemy. What a fun thought. It makes sense, though. People tell you things if you get them to trust you, and what better way to quickly earn someone's trust than by convincing them you're on their side?
Anyway, I'm tired, so this post will have to be pretty short. Thanks, guys, for actually using my blog! If we're lucky, we'll get to hear from you again sometime.
Edit: Anybody know what mud-out is?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
My Grandfather's Fountain Pen - #1
So I was riding the bus today when I met a couple interesting guys, one of whom invited me and the other one to post on his new blog about adventuring. I'm not sure if looking for your grandfather's fountain pen counts as an adventure, but I thought it could be fun so I agreed. I don't remember his name though... Stan? Started with an s. The other guy had a weird last name. You ever read Sluggy Freelance? It was kinda like that. His first name was Scott, I think. I remember because of the cleaning products, although it was obvious from the smell he doesn't use them. My name's Matt, by the way. I forgot to mention that.
I don't remember where they were going. I was headed to this place that sells used items. I was looking for my grandfather's fountain pen. I don't know why it would be there, I just know it hasn't been anywhere else I've looked, so I might as well try. It's a really nice pen. He (my grandfather) gave it to me when I was 12, and I've always really liked it. It has a nice, intricate carving in the handle, and I almost never wrote with it because it was so cool. He (my grandfather) had it for a long time before he gave it to me, and I'm so ashamed of misplacing it that I haven't even told him yet, even though he's not doing too well. I really hope I can find it before anything happens. He hasn't asked about it or anything, and I'm not even sure what I'll do if I find it since I don't write by hand that much, I just want to get it back.
Man, I love that pen.
I'll continue to post about my quest to find my grandfather's fountain pen until I find it, and maybe even after if I find I really like to.
I don't remember where they were going. I was headed to this place that sells used items. I was looking for my grandfather's fountain pen. I don't know why it would be there, I just know it hasn't been anywhere else I've looked, so I might as well try. It's a really nice pen. He (my grandfather) gave it to me when I was 12, and I've always really liked it. It has a nice, intricate carving in the handle, and I almost never wrote with it because it was so cool. He (my grandfather) had it for a long time before he gave it to me, and I'm so ashamed of misplacing it that I haven't even told him yet, even though he's not doing too well. I really hope I can find it before anything happens. He hasn't asked about it or anything, and I'm not even sure what I'll do if I find it since I don't write by hand that much, I just want to get it back.
Man, I love that pen.
I'll continue to post about my quest to find my grandfather's fountain pen until I find it, and maybe even after if I find I really like to.
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