On Guamalee Salad And Other Rants

I've been out of the blogging mode for quite some time, and have had a rather hot-cold relationship with the Peace Train as of late. Perhaps it's my social schedule that is keeping me from the blog or perhaps my lethargic and empathetic attitude toward just about everything except procrastination and alcohol. Either way, I need to snap out of it, and fast. I've decided to start yet another photo segment to my blog. I will be posting the first picture that appears on a Google image search to a word that sticks in my head or funny phrase. (Please feel free to contribute search ideas). I think these posts my prove to be quite interesting.

On a side note, on my way home from work everyday I pass an electronic announcement billboard which is placed there to alert of any upcoming roadwork or detours. However, as everyone in, near or remotely associated with the city is suffering from a Penguins victory hangover, the sign reads today "LET'S GO PEN'S!". This grammatical error magnified to 10 feet of flashing LCD lights is about to peak my annoyance meter. If it's not fixed by mid-week I'm calling PenDot.

The Jackson Cookout extravaganza was again a smashing sucess, replete with the surprise appearance of a man who was my roommate my sophomore year of high school in a summer camp. Youth Scholars Camp to be exact (insert "NEEERD" comment here Jen-nay). I had not seen this guy since then, and am actually quite surprised I made the connection enough to remember that we were in fact acquaintances.

Things I learned at the cookout:

• Pre-packaged hamburger patties contain beef hearts.
  
• In an underground version of "Friend/Fondle/Fuck/Watersports" I get watersports every time.
• Everyone in China has a name that ends in "N". (No formal evidence to back this one up yet.)
• Moms can still get down. (I plan on eating poppies with Mrs. J to get a buzz)
• Ina Garten's recipes are perfect for easy-breezy East Hampton dinner parties AND keg parties.
• Don't wear Magenta. Ever.
  
• The difference between "STOOOORIIIES!" and "stoories = ( "
  

Ummm, Drewby...

Could you commit to something, please?

I have, in the past month, began and read the first 2 chapters (or so) of exactly five books. All of which have been sitting on my bookshelves. I have full intention of finishing them someday. When the time is right. Maybe this summer. Yes that's right, when I'm free in the summer, and can enjoy my books. Or was that my plan for these books last summer? No, it was the summer before, and I just haven't gotten around to it. Point is, I commit to nothing and procrastinate everything.

"But they're only books, Drewby" you might say. But, you see, it's much more than that. The books are only a catalyst to a bigger problem. As time goes on, I'm slowly learning more and more about myself, and lately I've discovered I'm a completely noncommittal person. (Except of course for my vices which I have absolutely no problem committing to). Take for example my love affair with studying and playing music. For a period in my life, I could think of nothing but playing music. I ate, slept and breathed playing Chopin nocturnes and thought I would do it for the rest of my life. Fast forward seven years and now I don't touch a keyboard unless it has the alphabet printed on it. I thought I would revive my music flare with the guitar, and although I haven't given up on it, there it sits, lonely and unplayed in the corner of my living room. My Italian classes started off with a bang, but fizzled somewhere in between ...due, tre, quattro... and Quanto costa un biglietto? Oh yeah, and that workout plan I devised and the exercise regime tapped to my spare room door? I'll be working on that. Just as soon as I get my bathroom scale fixed...

All of this boils down to two of the traits I detest most about myself: procrastination tinged with a little bit of laziness (O.K. a lot of laziness sometimes). I think as another summer rolls around, I need to implement a late, or mid-year resolution: to finish what I start and commit to at least one damn thing. Who's with me?