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How to Lose At Doing Dishes

A Short Story by Andrew Albers

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In other news, grading papers (as a T.A.) can get to be monotonous after a while. Every once in a while, though, you find an answer that breaks the monotony, such as having a student list “probable liver failure” after “tuition” and “opportunity cost of not having a job” as a “cost” of attending college.

I found another particularly good one this afternoon. When asked to “provide a description of what the apartment market will be like as a result of the price ceiling,” most students responded something like “there will be a housing shortage” or “the quantity of apartments demanded will be greater than apartments supplied.” One student, however, wrote that “the market will be crazy & one huge fight between people looking & waiting for an apartment.“

Boy, if that’s not a perfect description of a market shortage– I don’t know what is. =)

In high school, we used to facetiously talk about the weather, any time it was a little cold and we didn’t feel like going outside, by saying “No way, man. I’m not going out. It’s like … two, outside.” Usually, this meant that it was about 45° F and windy. Or that we simply preferred the creature comforts of our gas-fired, forced-air heated houses.

It’s a beautiful and sunny morning, in Bozeman. Sitting in my room, the sun sparkles brilliently off a thousand white surfaces, covered yesterday in another three inches of fresh snow.

Yesterday was cold. Really cold. And today? Well … it’s two. No “like” about it. It’s two degrees Fahrenheit, with a two-day expected high of 20° F.

But, I don’t mind. I’ll bundle up a little more, this morning, and set my shoulder against the cold. I think I’ll walk to school, rather than ride my bike.

This is the beginning of a beautiful day.

That settles it. I’m pretty much dead. I just want to sleep… but I have lots of stuff I need to do … it’s not even stuff I’ve been putting off–it’s stuff I just haven’t had the time to do. Like prepare for my Business Law final this afternoon. Kinda wish maybe I had spend a little more than, oh, say, a half-hour feverishly preparing.

God, I made a douche of myself.

It’s Thursday afternoon and … I’ve clocked 48 hours of work in service of the Procrastinator Theatre since Monday. I’ve gone to like three classes this week… spent less time sleeping than in class.

What do I have to show for it? Well… I have a long, meticulously researched document about Digital Cinema and non-theatrical venues that no one, in their right mind, would possibly want to read. To prove my point, I’ll post a copy. Knock yourselves out:
Due Consideration – Digital Cinema & The Procrastinator Theatre.

Actually, I think there’s some hope. Tom Stump sees the necessity of a 35mm projector in the new theater, and is working on getting a cost estimate to expand the projection booth. Oh? You’re interested in that, too? Here: I’ll upload the requirements synopsis that I put together this morning, instead of going to accounting of my euro history class. 2007.11.29 Projection Booth Requirements.pdf

Microsoft Word does this thing where it gives its new documents sequential numbers every time you open a new copy– as in “New Document 3”, “New Document 5”, etc. This sequential counter closes when you close all windows of Word. The last new document that I created was “New Document 81”. That’s ridiculous.

I nearly went crazy, last night. I was on campus at 10:00 am yesterday and finished classes at 11:00 am. At 10:00 pm, after the show at the Procrastinator had finished (some student-run presentation on Uganda … I was just there to unlock the theater and teach the presenter how to use the LCD Projector. I could have left, once it started, but somehow I sat down–revising for the sixth time in four days the research document I linked above ..) I hadn’t eaten since noon, and had only slept for two or three hours, on the couch, the night before (and the night before that had been similarly short).

So there I am, at the Procrastinator at 10:00 pm. Instead of going home, I rode my bike up to the SUB to go visit the new theater. When I last visited, two days before, there was just a vast, empty room where the Pro and a lounge will eventually be. But when I arrived last night, a series of aluminum studs of one wall bisected the space… I don’t think I broke out in a cold sweat … but that’s how I’ll probably remember it.

Somehow, in the back of my mind, I’d be entertaining this mad dream that we could still convert the ticket booth in to a concessions stand. But I failed to act on that dream … probably intimidated by the staggering amount of effort required to alter the momentum of the construction machine. Well, there was my dream–with aluminum studs driven right through it. Where a counter could have, would have been.

I can’t describe the feeling–terror, mostly. It was too late. They were building, and they were building wrong. They were spending hundreds of thousands of student dollars, to build the wrong thing.

I panicked. The construction HAD to stop … just for a two days … just until Friday afternoon, when the STUDENTS would finally get a chance to properly discuss the arbitrary decision, made three years ago, to switch to digital projection and eliminate the projection booth in the new Procrastinator Theatre.

For a few minutes, as I wandered between piles of waiting aluminum studs, or pawed listlessly through the available blueprints … I could only think of sabotage. How could I stop the clock? How could I buy two more days for the students? I thought of stealing all the blueprints and burning them (they’re wrong, anyway…). I thought of chaining myself to the aluminum studs…

Eventually, I left. I found Scott in the ASMSU office and ranted for a while … then eventually headed home, where I raged and screamed for another two hours. I must have used more profanities last night than any three nights drinking combined.

But, eventually, that too subsided. At midnight, I finally ate some dinner. By 2:00 am, I was tired… and needed to be up at 6:30 am to find Tom Stump, first thing in the morning.

And then things started to look up. I found Tom in his office, on his way to the SUB. We talked on our way over. I explained that situation … that we would be unable to use digital projection in the new theater, and briefly explained the reasons. And then, greatly to my surprise, he turned to me and asked what it would take to get a 35mm projector installed. By noon today, MSU’s architects had received a request for a price estimate of the modification. I was buoyant.

Around 1:00 pm, I started working on my bus 361 “final”. It needed probably 3 hours of work. I gave it about 45 minutes.

And then I went to class, and looked like a staggering douche.

Then the bubble burst. The balloon popped. Something gave out … gave in. I was gone.

And now? I’ve never been so depressed. I really don’t think I have. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so crippled by lethargy–been so keenly aware of a chemical imbalance in my brain that’s stopping me from acting like a normal person…

I don’t think I’ve ever worked at something so hard or with such tenacity as I have these last four days. And then, when I sat down after giving my pathetic speech in 361… that was the end. Everything was done. The class… everything I can do for the Procrastinator…

I think it’s the new medication. It’s a wild ride. I’ve been wondering when all the chemicals in my brain were going to collide… it’s absolutely wild. I’ve barely eaten, and I’ve barely slept. Yet I’m not hungry, and I’m not tired. I don’t feel healthy, but I don’t feel sick.

I’m going to click “submit” now.

(The following is completely inappropriate and out of decorum. Please do not read it.)

we’re getting SCREWED on the SUB (our Student Union Building). Admittedly, the University is paying 9m of the 27m renovation costs, but even that number doesn’t seem fair, in terms of what the students are paying and what they get in return. If the students didn’t pay to renovate the SUB, sooner or later the University would have no choice other than to pay for renovation itself.

In a broad sense, the University gains as much from all of the renovation improvements as the students. Though it’s the students who will get to enjoy the much of the “improved” facilities, the university needs these improvements more than we do, in terms of recruitment. Having a beautiful, up-to-date H&PE center or a good looking Student Union Building is essential for recruitment. Every improvement to a student facility makes MSU a more attractive university for perspective students. It’s difficult to quantify– but if our SUB was an outdated dump, enrollment would drop. The ability of the President’s Office to get alumni support and millions of dollars of private donations is greatly enhanced by having good looking facilities available for the courting of donors. Gamble’s goal to collect $100m in private funding for MSU over the next five years is laudable–and certainly aided by the improvements that the students are funding.

But here’s where the students are getting screwed:
The H&PE complex is big, looks nice on the outside, but it going to feel awful empty for a few years until its filled with equipment to use. And, a big lobby with a fireplace? I’m sure it’ll look nice, but really– when was the last time you wanted to sit down by a fireplace after a hard work out? How many more students would have rather had a real climbing wall, instead?

And our Black Box Theatre? Folding chairs?

But it’s the SUB that really put me on this train of thought. I know that a lot of money dog-eared for the SUB was used to help complete the H&PE and Black Box on time– but the resulting cuts from the SUB were almost all STUDENT areas. The update to the Union Market is nice– but Auxilary Services controls most of that area. A few years ago UWyo significantly updated their student union building. They contracted their food vending out to private business which means 1) significant revenue generation in the form of rent 2) better (not to say healthier) food. Does anyone really LIKE the Union Market? It’s all mediocre food. We eat it because we’re student, we’re on campus all day, and we’re hungry.

But then glance at the blueprints and see how much expansion there is in kitchen space! It’s huge! Food service, again, wins big from this “renovation.” Students don’t benefit at all, really, from an additional 10,000 feet of kitchen space. But we’re helping pay for it. How much of the KITCHEN was truncated to help offset increasing construction costs?

And then … there’s The Procrastinator. First, they tried to cut the theater. And then, in a grand show of listening to student outcry, they relented. But, it wasn’t quite the same, way it? No, they removed the concessions stand–just placing wall where, previously, there had been counter space. When I talked to Tom, he indicated that the concessions stand was cut because the Films Chair didn’t want to deal with concessions. PI remembers it differently: the Films Chair didn’t really participate in that decision. It was Food Service that proposed eliminating the concessions stand. Talking to Tom, he said that he hoped traffic to the Procrastinator would help keep Avogadro’s open later. Yeah, it makes sense.

And there was something else missing, too, wasn’t there? Yeah– the projection booth had been removed to squeeze a few more seats in to the “theatre”. Patty tells me that the discussion of switching to digital lasted about 10 minutes during a three hour meeting. Someone suggested that the theatre could use digital projection–based on a standard that didn’t exist–and that was it. More seats!

Wait? Can that be right? Did they really remove the concessions stand and the PROJECTION BOOTH from what was once upon going to be a MOVIE THEATER?

What kind of MOVIE THEATER doesn’t have a concessions stand or projection booth? The kind that looks suspiciously-a-whole-lot-like a PRESENTATION ROOM? Oh, they were so magnanimous is listening to the student outcry to have the Procrastinator back.

But to hear Tom talk about the potential for other uses for the Procrastinator … a great venue of Gamble’s yearly address, a huge source of revenue in the summer for conferences that need a lecture auditorium? I recall that part of the conversation with Tom well. All these different groups want to use MSU’s facilities, but there’s no place with tiered seating , a good sound system, and a big projector. Frankly, I’m half surprised that they didn’t try to pull the screen, too– except for the fact that, inevitably, presenters would want to give power-point presentations on a beautiful 47′ screen.

Each of us is paying a LOT of money to fund this renovation. Students graduating this spring will have paid eight semesters worth of fees for the renovation, without getting to enjoy ANY of the benefits– aside from the nice looking wooden chairs in the Union Market.

It ALL smacks of LIES and perfidy!

Headed home for Thanksgiving … and a great cause for thanks-giving that is!

I’m looking forward to seeing family and friends. And … looking forward to getting away from MSU and Bozeman for a few days. And … strangely, looking forward to the LONG, snowy drive from here to there, and back again. It seems like a long time since I’ve been home…

Really, I nhts … get back ay. Some time to collect my thoughts … get back on the horse again, so to speak. I’ve rather been off it, these last few weeks. Yeah. Really off it.

And … I’m looking forward to a long and beautiful nap … with respect to the fact that it’s 5:19 am and we’re supposed to leave at 9:00 am. It’s ok– I’m doing important stuff. (See: burning CDs to update the music library in my car … what could be more important? Packing? psh … I’ll get to that soon enough.)

Wish me safe travels!

Paris, Je T’aime: Small Neighborhood Romances

(**** / *****)

Paris, Je T’aime is an experiment: a compilation of short films, each written and directed by a different director, with a common theme: Paris.

It’s rare for a film to maintain well crafted, consistent quality from opening shot to closing credits. For that film to be a collaboration of eighteen wildly varied directors–is at once mind-boggling and deeply impressive. Or, perhaps it’s not–given the experience and renown that each director brings to her or his respective short.

Montmarte. Relieved to find a parking spot, a man sits in his car and reflects, wistfully, “No one is single. Not one.” He watches. A laughing couple approaches and, in the mirror, walks away. A woman, visibly pregnant (and proud) walks towards us, then down the street, in the mirror.

Another woman walks toward us. Our gaze returns to the mirror and waits … She doesn’t appear. Out of the car, he finds her on the sidewalk, collapsed. A crowd gathers, offers prosaic advice, helps move her into the rear seat of his car.

He closes the door and sits in the passenger seat. She wakes, says “thank you.” She takes his hand, and they talk. They talk … nonsense, really. About the EMT course he took, or–her shoes–she’s had them since she was fourteen. He offers to drive her to her appointment. She protests, then accepts. The scene cuts to an idyllic street corner, as his car drives by.

Cut. The screen bursts–overflowing with a stunning panorama of Paris, dwarfed by the Sacre Coeur Basilica. We see a small title–“Quais de Seine. Gurider Chadra”–and the music changes. Three students sit on the riverfront. The Seine sparkles–a vibrant Hitchcock-esque rearscreen. They laugh, making light-hearted catcalls at the women who pass. One stops, sneers, flies them the birdie.

A young Muslim woman walks past, trips and falls. Leaving his friends, one rushes up to help her. He awkwardly tries to help her replace her hajib (head scarf), and they share a moment to themselves–and a bit of unexpected connection. Shot in intimate close-ups, her delicate features of her face fill the frame. Then, she continues on her way.

The scene changes. Another title appears. The story isn’t closed–there’s nothing fulfilled, consummated. But, as viewers, we feel we’ve been a part of something.

Paris is in a vein similar to that of the great transnational collaborations of the late 1960’s and early 70’s (vis., The Passenger, Blow-Up, James Bond). Too often, star-heavy movies flop under their own weight (viz., All The King’s Men, Red Dragon, The Good Shepherd). Paris has more than a dozen Academy Award nominees, but nevertheless holds its weight admirably.

Multi-lingual and panethnic, Paris soars on its diverse cast–a triumphant collaboration of international talent. Its directors come from four continents and twice again as many cultural traditions. Each director’s style is distinct–identifiable–yet consistent and flowing into Parisian mosaic, painted in broad strokes.

A brief sketch of the film’s contributing writer-directors is eye-popping: Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run); Christopher Doyle (cinematographer for Hero, The Quiet American); Vincenzo Natali (Cube). Gus Van Saint (Good Will Hunting); Joel and Ethan Coen, Alfanso Cuaron (Y To Mama Tambien, Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban); Alexander Payne (About Schmidt, Sideways), as is its list of acting talent: Gerard Depardieu, Steve Buscemi, Emily Mortimer, Elijah Wood, and Maggie Gyllanhall, to name a few.

Amid so much critically acclaimed contributors, it might be easy to loose track of the film’s more obscure gems, like Isabel Coixet and Nobuhiro Suwa. But not so–each director’s contribution is integral to the flow and composition of Paris, lending it variety and levity.

Full of surprises and bursting with color, the film evokes a dramatically dreamlike quality–reminiscent of Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams.

And perhaps it’s that dream-like quality that allows the film to speak to us directly, leaving us with a feeling, rather than a verdict or reaction. Or, perhaps it’s the film’s exceptional humanity: its scenes and scenarios that, 4,900 miles physically displaced, we readily relate to.

More than the sum of its parts, Paris succeeds in conjuring Paris: beautiful, pastoral, foreign, familiar, haunting, meditative. Unpretentious, alternatively baffling and poignant, Paris is a joy to watch and leaves you hungry for more.

A PDF copy of this review is available at:
http://www.eateggs.com/files/parisjetaime_review.pdf

SNOWING!!! About FREAKING time. It’s only the 11th of November– and we’re already getting our second snow. And by “it’s only”, I mean we should have been buried waist-deep in snow for weeks already. But oh– it’s snowing. No– better! It’s BLIZZARDING! The storm arrived quite suddenly–beautiful day, sunshine, etc–and then CLOUDS and WIND and blowing leaves… and then SNOW FLAKES and wind and more snow flakes … mmm. Coming down in thick torrents. Thick, swirling, angry torrents of piling snow.

(Outside. A few minutes ago.)
Laugh with me: Bovard’s playing the piano … wearing just his towel. In fact, he’s been playing the piano, in just his towel, for about 45 minutes now. He woke up, as I take it, around, 3:00 pm and came upstairs, in his towel, to take a shower. Unfortunately, Ben was already in the bathroom– taking a shower. Then, just as Ben was getting out, Andrew comes home and decides that its time to clean the bathroom (hurray!). Bovard protested:

Andrew: “Ooh! I’m going to clean the bathroom now.”
Bovard: “No. Wait. Let me take a shower first. I’ve been waiting.”
Andrew: “Nope! I’m going to clean it now. If you want the bathroom clean, you’re going to have to wait.”
Bovard: “No! This is ridiculous. I’m wearing a towel. It’ll take me 5 minutes to shower.”
…
And then Andrew went into the bathroom and poured Comet all over everything.

Now, 45 minutes later, Bovard is still sitting at the piano, in his towel. Meanwhile, Andrew is in the bathroom, scrubbing off Comet, talking jovially to himself.

Ben: “Bovard, why are you sitting out here, wearing only a towel?”
Bovard: “Well, I was going to take a shower, but then Andrew decided to clean the bathroom.”

And it’s SNOWING! Goodbye, green lawn (so recently robbed of your leafy carpeting). Hello, white lawn. Goodbye blue Jeep. Hello, white mound of snow in a Jeep-like shape. Goodbye, last lingering leaves on the trees. The snow will pull you down. It will OWN you. And it will be GLORIOUS.

—

4:31 pm – Edit:
[Bovard gets up and leaves the room … after finishing ALL of the new, interesting videos on YouTube.]
Ben: “So are you going to give up, finally?”
Bovard: “NO! I’m not giving up. I’m going to take a shower!”
Andrew: “What?!”
Ben: “Oh, I just asked Bovard if he was going to go put some pants on.”
[Bovard makes a sandwich, in the kitchen, in his towel.]

4:35 pm
Ben: “So you’re finally done?”
Andrew: “Yeah. It’s so clean! It’s sparkling! No one use the bathroom!”
Ben: “Sweet. I need to take a crap.”
Bovard: “No!! What the HELL?!”
[Ben proceeds to take over the bathroom.]

Strangely, this afternoon I’ve felt rather … drunk? Sleep deprived? I can’t quite put my finger on it. Probably, I just need some food. I don’t usually skip meals but when I woke up this morning at 11:05 a.m. for my 11:00 a.m. class, there wasn’t much time for breakfast. And lunchtime … was spent in a flurry of propaganda activity (namely… printing and posting LIME GREEN (and other vibrant fluorescent colored) posters for Sunshine (in attention-grabbing grids of four. BAM! COLORS! Sans-Serif fonts! Bold statements! BOO-YA!). So I haven’t eaten anything today. Maybe it’s related.

Actually, Sunshine is a bit of an experiment– it’s a solid film, but didn’t receive much (if any) of a promotional campaign from Fox Searchlight Pictures. But I’m convinced that it’s a film that a lot of students at MSU would really enjoy. So the experiment is: can I promote the hell out of a film that no-one has heard of, and get a good turn-out at the Procrastinator? Only this weekend will tell…

This sunset tonight was mind blowing. I’ve seen skies equally filled with brilliant oranges and reds … but never a sky with so much texture in the clouds. It was radiant. Absolutely spectacular.

This evening brought another of life’s firsts: raking leaves off my lawn. Heck, it’s a first to HAVE leaves in the yard– growing up in the rural area surrounding Cheyenne didn’t privilege me to mounds and piles of leaves… wonderful, crunchy, colorful leaves. Piles of leaves that you can dive in to– without fear of hurting yourself. Unless you count the piles of tumble-weeds that would collect on the corral fence, that is…

So yeah. Seeing that the neighbor had left his leaf-rake out, I grabbed it and proceeded to pull back the brown-ing carpet of leaves to reveal a surprisingly still-green lawn.

And somehow, just that action of raking leaves … felt wonderfully wholesome. I can’t describe it. But tonight, I have another new definition of happiness: raking leaves off my lawn in the darkening light of a crisp November evening.

Somebody loan me some TRUTH!

Somebody loan me some focus .. some singularity of vision!

Some help, here. Somebody. Anybody…

(really. there’s nothing interesting here. i’m just posting this for my own sake. of course, if you’ve already read everything else interesting on the intarwebnets today, read on…)

Bozeman is SO beautiful. Our long fall continues…

It seems the beautiful days in the fall are especially so– made more beautiful by the contrast of days of rain, of cold, by the quickly (but oh-so-slowly) baring trees…

So when we have days like today, I’m reminded that I owe it to myself to get outside and enjoy. To eat lunch outside, on a favorite patch of green grass by Linfield Hall … to take a walk, or go for a run…

It being a BEAUTIFUL evening (the sun set around 7:00, but it was still at least 55 degrees when I got home around 7:15), I was compelled to go run. Had to. Nothing could haev stopped me. Plus, there was a full moon last night, so there should be plenty of light– or so I thought.

Eschewing my typical Peet’s Hill route (for whatever reason) I headed south, merging on to Bozeman’s vast (but labyrinthine) trail system near the Museum of the Rockies. I took an East fork, ran through a few quiet blocks of subdivisions (it’s funny– I don’t know any college students that live south of Kagy… “it’s where Bozeman lives,” I thought as I ran through the dark and quiet streets…)

(One of my favorite things about Bozeman is the scarcity of light pollution. Most of Bozeman’s neighborhoods south of campus don’t have street lights, except on major intersections. So … it’s DARK at night. And SO quiet.)

Soon, I was back on a trail, again heading south in the dark. I should mention that it was dark–profoundly dark– the sun having gone down an hour before, and the moon being no where in sight.

It struck me, for the two-hundredth time, how beautiful Bozeman is. On a perfectly still evening, in the darkening sky, I could barely make out the blueish silhouettes of the Gallatin Mountains, in the southern sky, keeping watch…

I meant to turn off the trail on to the golf course (I’d been down this trail once before … in the daylight), but when I got to where the “turn off” was before (not an official turn off), it was so dark I couldn’t find it. I didn’t much feel like crossing the marsh in the dark, so I just kept running on the trail down path I’d never been on before … in to the great unknown.

The trail soon turned into dense and dark(er) woods. At first, I swatted imaginary branches (eager to poke out an eye, I was sure). Soon, though, I began to ride the adrenaline rush of running down a narrow trail, through thick woods, in near pitch darkness. Scared of tripping, of a branch I couldn’t see, of SOMETHING, I forced myself to run faster. And faster. Down unknown, twisting, turning, dropping and inclining trail.

And GOD, it was FUN.

The trail forked, and I suddenly found myself thinking “gee, this looks familiar”. I realized that it was a trail Kimbree and I had been down at some point, this summer, on a similarly dark night. Which meant that I was way south of town.

Sure enough, twists, turns, briers and brambles later, the trail suddenly dumped out on a pavement cross-street– Goldenstein. Well south of Bozeman. I went with it. I ran east, wondering where Goldenstein led … and ended up on south Church. I ran on Church–a narrow and busy road– for what seemed an interminable distance. Eventually, I found myself somewhere familiar, and took a short-cut on to the golf course.

Running across the golf course–running straight toward the low-hung Big Dipper–I was treated to two phenomenal meteors. Obviously, running, I was watching in front of me but both were so bright I noticed them in time to see their long, brilliant streaks across the night sky– two of the most spectacular meteors I’ve ever seen.

I ran across the Centennial Mall (on campus) and screamed like a maniac as I passed Montana Hall–perhaps the first time I’ve ever really felt a “runner’s high”.

And now I’m home, showered, fed and beered. I’m reminded, once again, how privileged I am to live in Bozeman– and how much disservice I do myself, every day I don’t spend an hour or more outside…