No? Perhaps I should explain. This is a Tweet from Friday by Argentinean tennis player, Juan Monaco. Before I go further, allow me to free-associate for a moment. Juan Monaco was defeated in the Open this year by Peter Polansky who I then saw get beaten subsequently by James “yes, why not call it a comeback?” Blake. I was pondering this evening while watching Blake get hammered in yet the next round by Djokovic, how Ashe Stadium used to be James Blake’s house. So many times I’d leave the Open to the sight of Blake on the big screen in the evening feature. When he had his famous five-set night match against Agassi, I rooted for Agassi who didn’t really have that much time left in his own comeback. I figured Blake was young and had plenty of time. Oops. This year I saw the Blake match on Armstrong, which is where I saw him play for the first time, during the famous Lleyton Hewitt racial incident where Blake was so green, the extended length of the match caused him to throw up on court several times. Gutsy!

Anyway, enough with the memories. Juan Monaco’s Tweet says (I think!), “King David wins in three setsII! Now comes the match against Verdasco….” I’ve never heard Nalby called King David but I like it, even though the real King David was a womanizer who had Batsheva’s husband killed to hide the fact that he had knocked up another guy’s wife. On the other hand, the Psalms, which are my favorite part of the Bible, are mostly credited to him. I’m sure this was just the kind of analysis that Juan Monaco was hoping for, eh? But I was actually at the match where (the new) King David won in three, and it was delightful. I snagged a third row seat and was completely surrounded by young and fashionable Argentineans. It was just like Buenos Aires down to the fact that my money is worthless. Rimshot!

These days, I mostly tweet my photos and US Open commentary, thus saving you from endless tennis posts while simultaneously irritating my Twitter followers. It also means my pictures are taken by my BlackBerry whose zoom isn’t as good as the one on my actual camera. But then, my actual camera doesn’t have Twitter on it (if you want to see these photos, they are at http://twitpic.com/photos/magicjewball and can each be enlarged upon your click). But here’s one of Nalbandian at that match. By the way, speaking of Twitter, you can sort of tell that Juan Monaco is actually tweeting whereas Nalbandian’s account is clearly run by PR people. Which is sad but better than nothing. Nalbandian, as little as I know about him (I stay with the professional and not so much the personal) doesn’t seem at all the type to want to share his everyday thoughts on a social network.

(Surreal moment: I’m still watching the Saturday night session on delay and literally as I type this during the Kuznetsova-Kirilenko match, Martina Navratilova and Tracy Austin are discussing Twitter while calling the match for The Tennis Channel. Martina: “Every once in a while I have something interesting to say but I wouldn’t want the pressure of doing it on a daily basis. [pause] Tracy, do you Twitter?” Tracy: “I don’t.” Martina: “Are you going to?” Tracy: “Uh…. not anytime soon. I don’t think so.” So there you have it).

This next photo is from my phone and it’s my favorite, even though it’s from far away. It’s how I spent the final two hours of my last real night at the Open, high in the bleachers of Court 7 watching two Spanish guys you never heard of duke it out with incredibly motivated gusto to determine who will get decimated in the next round. It was literally the last match of the day other than the one on the main court, so everyone who was like me and left over from the day session, and who just could not bear to leave until the last point available had been played, was there. The crowd cheered the guy who was losing and I knew why: we just wanted the match to go on as long as possible – fifth set, fifth set! You can see the empty courts beyond. I was way high up in the last row, which was full because of the reason I sat there, too: it has a back. And man does your back hurt by the end of the day. And your knees. And your sunburn. On the first day, sunscreen dripped into my eyes and my vision was blurred for much of the day. It was awful. I kept flushing my eyes out with water from my water bottle and yellow stuff would come oozing out the corners. The woman next to me asked me if I was OK; she thought I had been crying. I was tempted to say, “I am – I just wanted Taylor Dent to win so much!” But I appreciated it. Strangers bond all the time at the Open, it’s one of its many charms. Except the couple behind me at the Schiavone match who answered my volunteered response to an overheard question with, “I was talking to my husband.” OK, well, do that at home, please. We’re all friends here. Bitch. But it was all worth it. I think I’d like to be buried between the Grandstand and Armstrong. Or Court 11, I’m flexible. But I just can’t bear to leave that place.

Right, so about the title question. The big match is not far away and I need you once again. You see, I have a family occasion tomorrow (well, now today – Sunday) and as per the Tweet, King David is scheduled to play Goliath, er, Verdasco on the Grandstand at 11am. So I need you to help Nalby with your MINDS. This will be a tough one. He may even need the part you usually devote to sexy thoughts and donuts. I’ll be expected to have my mind on the affair at hand, but I’m going to reserve the donut part for this too. If Nalby wins, we can all celebrate with donuts. By royal decree, donuts for all!

I read an article this week about an appearance by Agassi which you could buy tickets for, where he spoke about his life and book while being interviewed by a guy from Sports Illustrated. For some reason, it was held not immediately before the Open, but during the event. Who the hell would go to that when there’s tennis on? Well, for starters, the guy who bought a ticket for the Open because he thought the Agassi thing would be there. When he found out it wasn’t, he left and drove back to the city. He explained by saying, “For me, Andre is number one. The rest of the U.S. Open is number two.” Seriously? I simply don’t get that. When Nalbandian retires, or Fish or anyone I root for, tennis goes on, that’s where the love is. Because to me memories are great but the best part is ahora.

Title comes from:
The Smiths – How Soon Is Now?

Every time I walked from one office to another I passed lines of students waiting to be advised, or they were lost, walking three steps one way and then turning around. My school is incredibly confusing. It’s made up of six or seven buildings, all attached to each other, but seemingly unplanned and after the fact. Some paths between buildings land you between floors in other buildings. But I love all the buildings; they are old, from the nineteenth century, and look like a school of the period, with creaky wood-planked floors, vast high ceilings, and mahogany chair-rails. Today, I was in the elevator of the main building with several women who were clearly there for a workshop. They were much more nicely dressed than the students and were older. The conversation went like this:

Woman 1: But it’s so old and boring… the wood and everything…
Woman 2: What did you expect, marble?
Woman 1: [exasperated] Well, I don’t know… it’s [redacted institution]!

I redacted my school because the marketing is very good there and they search on it. I’d rather hide this blog from them, know what I mean? But it is the #1 or 2 school of its kind in the country, the gold standard. I guess we’re supposed to have marble. But of course, inside I laughed and laughed. The school is so beautiful and stately and noble. I bet that lady lives in a new-construction McMansion.

The building where I work has no elevator and I’m on the sixth floor. Soon I will have buns of steel. But I did wonder why this was. There are four secretaries in my department. Two are so unfriendly that I sometimes think my salary is being deducted from theirs. One of these seems to hate her job and the other just appears to not want to communicate with me specifically. One of the others is older and we discuss the weather. The fourth is new and hasn’t had time to realize she’s supposed to treat me like I am wallpaper. Ugly wallpaper. She has been there just a few months but she was the one who told me about the elevator.

Now, I have walked these stairs a million times in my year at my school. All around the wrought-iron hollow cage. I sometimes admire its beauty but it never, ever dawned on me that it’s exactly the right size for… an elevator. She showed me the closed up door areas and the vestigial push-buttons. I will take a picture of these for you at some point, both to reveal its mysterious coolness and to show you what a doofus I am for missing it all this time. Now I just get to wonder why they provided an elevatorectomy to the beautiful shaftway to the sky.

I never really noticed how dead it was all summer until I saw the students flooding the hallways today. I wanted to hug all of them. Until I had to wait on line behind them at the cafeteria. Stupid students. I also waited on line behind them to get my TB test, which I haven’t had since early grade school. It was a bit of an assembly line, sign form, stick out arm, etc. But you are required to do it to get cleared to student teach in a New York City public school, so as you can imagine, a lot of people in ed school need to have this done. But I was rewarded for this and the earlier fingerprinting with a letter of introduction from “It’s Redacted Institution!” to To Whom It May Concern. Here’s Becca, she won’t infect, or commit any felonious acts in, your school. Don’t mind the big bruise on her arm where an alleged “nurse” stuck her with TB syrum. But do check out those buns of steel.

Steely Dan – My Old School

I did have a day off on Thursday during which I spent some time at the qualifying round of the US Open. I love the quallies because it’s the US Open without all the irritating parts: the lines, the crowds, the having to wait for the break to enter a match. On the other hand, the stores are mostly closed and there’s a guy wading in the fountain. I kind of want to do this myself on really hot days, but without the boots.

Monday, the real US Open starts but so does my semester so it’s going to be hard to focus on either thing. But no matter what, there will be no wading in the fountain for me.

Have a good weekend, all!

Title comes from:
Depeche Mode – If You Want

It’s been a long time since I felt what the last day of summer felt like. When I was a kid, I loathed school, so much so that I ran away from Kindergarten and regularly played hooky from middle school to either hide in the woods or in the bathroom of my private school’s lower school building. In high school, I would go to the public library or to work at the record store (they never asked questions). Summer was the sweetest, most wonderful time of year. Not only did I have no school but I had my summer camp, where I had some of the best experiences of my life.

Nowadays, I love school. And, as I’ve said, I consider it a vacation from the real world, i.e. Monday through Friday, 9-5 work. The ability to stay up till the wee hours, get up late, handle the day exactly as I wish, and have no one to report to but myself has been like a dream. And well, at some point you have to wake up. I decided to stay in school another year partially because I couldn’t bear for that to end but in doing so, I knew that I’d need additional funding which meant work which means that in order to have that lifestyle, I have to not have that lifestyle. I know, it seems pointless. But there were other reasons I did it too, like getting more education and being better prepared for my new career. So here’s what this year will involve:

a. Part-time job, 3 days a week.
b. Fieldwork 1 day a week.
c. Special project 1 day a week.
d. Classes 2 evenings a week.
e. Thesis in any spare moment.

Yes, it’s going to be a challenge and the hardest part will certainly be the first one, which begins in a mere twelve hours (yikes). I am not good with bosses. I am terrible at doing things that other people tell me to do. Naturally, I did not bring this up in the interview. But I’m going to try my best because for a part-time job, it’s well-compensated. I know. I’m the first person ever to put up with a boss telling me what to do so I can pay my bills, right? But beyond that, I think I’m just going to miss my leisurely student life of getting up, puttering around making a hot breakfast, spending time playing on the Internet, reading for school in the quiet mid-afternoon, and then going off to class. Now I’ll have to fit those readings in when I can and go back to jumping out of bed via cranky alarm, scarfing something down, and running for the train, still half-asleep. I can hear you all playing tiny violins for me right now. I have a Facebook friend who works at a university and is off every summer. All summer long she posts about fun things she and her family are doing at their vacation home in the mountains. Then, in late August, she posts status messages whining about the end of her three-month vacation and I always roll my eyes. So I feel you if you’re rolling your eyes. But it’s been a lovely year, it really has.

Speaking of people complaining about lifestyles others envy, I’ve now had about five days without either school or work (kind of the vacation from my vacation) and finally had time to read the Agassi book (I’m not quite done… and I only have 12 hours left!). I remember when it came out last year there was lots of talk about the revelations: that he wore a hairpiece, that he never really loved Brooke Shields, that he used crystal meth and lied to the ATP about it. But for me, the biggest disillusionment was that he hated tennis. That was really hard for me to deal with. He says that he could never understand people who loved the beauty of the game. I suppose I am one of those people and watching the US Open series on TV these past few weeks has been wonderful. But now I kind of watch people play in a different way. Do they love the game as much as I do or did they feel it was the only thing they knew how to do?

It may be hard to believe, but I only became a tennis fan in the mid-90′s when my then-company gave me tickets to the US Open and I fell in love with both tennis and the story that a tournament is. The first match I ever saw Agassi play live is described in the book; it was during his comeback and the other player, Karol Kucera, was acting like a moron. I remember laughing when Agassi sarcastically reacted and in the book, Agassi mentions that the crowd laughed. This is just to tell you, hey, I’m in the Agassi book! But don’t get me wrong, it’s an amazing read and hard to put down. I suppose they’d frown on me reading at my desk at work, huh?

Also during my five days off from everything, I saw Tears For Fears. It was great to see a band I have loved for a long time and never experienced live, but the show failed my two criteria for excellent concerthood: decent view and good song selection. Being that it was at the Hammerstein Ballroom and I am not the tallest of women, I could occasionally glimpse bits of either member’s head but not often. Also, not enough from their two good albums and, naturally, no hint of my favorite song by them, since it wasn’t a hit. This is the sorry state of concerts today: other people hold up their cameras so that you can see even less and then you have to go to YouTube to watch shaky videos of the concert for which you paid.

Lastly, I got fingerprinted by the Department of Education, so that I could do my fieldwork, even though I don’t yet know if it will be in a public school. But my school makes you anyway, just in case. Everything you ever experienced with government bureaucracy (think of your last trip to the DMV) existed here: long lines, people who went on break just as they were about to take you, requirements sprung on you (duh, don’t you know that you get your school ID when you get fingerprinted and thus need your picture taken?) which lead to yet more lines with no one being taken, and lots of words spoken to you in a tone of voice which makes sure you understand that it is the thousandth time they have been spoken by that person this week. WelcometotheDOEpleasefollowthosearrowstooffice17takeanumberandsitdown.

Then I left and went to Ikea where I bought $40 worth of things I didn’t know I needed in the marketplace. Because once you’re at Borough Hall in Brooklyn, what else are you supposed to do? It was one of the last days I could just go to an office in the middle of the day and then go shopping. I will miss you, sweet unemployment.

Onward and upward.

Title comes from my second favorite Tears For Fears song, which they did, thankfully, play.
Tears For Fears – Pale Shelter

1. Enough memory to not see a spinning beach ball every time I want to do three things at once.
2. No sound of processor wheezing when I watch a video on YouTube.
3. An N key that says N (N is the key that advances my RSS reader… I appear to read a lot of feeds, as I have rubbed that sucker completely off).
4. No more burnt leg (the older Macbook batteries were removable and closer to my leg).
5. Pleasant crunch of new keyboard design (plus backlighting for typing in the dark).
6. CD/DVD drive which actually accepts said discs.
7. Right click with one touch (the old trackpad didn’t have that).
8. More stuff fits on the same size screen.
9. Actual portability since the battery lasts 6x times as long as the old one (which I stopped unplugging at all, really).
10. Works with my iPhone headphones with mic so I don’t have to look like I’m taking your order when I’m on a video conference or class.

No, the best thing is that I get to use all the new software that my old computer (the very first Macbook Pro from 2006) couldn’t handle! I just got so used to saying, “oh. I don’t have that operating system” or “oh. I don’t have that amount of RAM.” But now I do! In fact, I spent a while trying to remember all the things I had previously been refused, like Google Chrome and Kindle For Mac and Blackberry Desktop Software. Yes, I could have updated my old Macbook with all the latest software but first I waited for the bugs to be worked out and then it didn’t feel worth it because I kept thinking I’d upgrade the hardware. But there is something so exciting about saying, “why, yes, I’ll take the version for the very newest operating system, the version with all the neat things.”

My old Macbook was called Big Mac because it was larger than my previous Thinkpad and, well, it was a Mac and that was novel for me at the time. My Dad worked at IBM his entire career and so I had only ever had Thinkpads and PS/2′s. Not even Dell or Gateway. I had one of the first laptops IBM produced when I went to college. Now, I am not one for naming electronics but I always named my computers because you could. There was an area to put the name and so I did. Nowadays, you especially need to if you have a network, unless you can remember offhand that M7978V68423 is your Slingplayer. I always named my laptops after musicians until Big Mac (only North of the City will remember these names, I think). But now it’s time to return to that and thus I name mine after a musician I miss very much, and like Malcolm, it’s quirky, takes old things and makes them up to date, and keeps me connected to good things everywhere.

Click here to view the embedded video.

What else is there for me to say? Oh right, this. In my life, I have only seen David Nalbandian play in a final on TV three times (Wimbledon 2002, Shanghai Finals 2005, and yesterday’s Legg-Mason Classic in DC). This is both a function of the lack of tennis on American television and the dearth of championships in which Nalby has appeared. And it’s only the second time I have ever seen him win one. I’d try to explain how amazing it was to watch but instead, I’ll let the picture have its thousand words.

CNN: David Nalbandian wins Legg-Mason Classic title in Washington

Well, to make a long story short, it’s a pain and a half to get there for those of us on the Upper West Side, because anything that involves a crosstown bus in Harlem will inevitably take years off your life. Years spent on that bus. Or waiting for that bus. Or waiting to get on that bus. But it is the only game in town as far as bulk groceries, so I do what I have to do. Today, I headed over there primarily to try the new Target but also picked up a few things at the Costco. In the future, when I need something from Target, I’ll be going back to the one in the Bronx which is a direct shot by subway. Target has a temporary shuttle (it goes till 8/22, a month after they opened) to hype the place but it only took me 1/3 of the way across 116th street, whereupon I waited 20 minutes for a bus, which is crazy in New York, sorry.

But while I was there, I checked out the parking lot which was indeed mostly empty while both Target and Costco were quite busy (there are other stores, Best Buy, Marshall’s, Petco…. I don’t know if they’re all open yet as they were on higher floors and I don’t care about any of them). If you’re wondering, Big Box Stores who insisted on the parking garage, how people are shopping, let me describe the following sights which I witnessed today to you:

• The family filling a little red wagon covered in a blanket.
• The lady walking down 117th Street with a ham under her arm.
• The shuttle, chock full of downtown types.
• The woman looking over the average supermarket size carts at Target in wonder, who said to me, “look how huge these are! They really want you to shop, don’t they?” (hint, if your customer is a person who has never seen a regular grocery cart before, she does not have a car.)
• The large family with each member carrying one bag.
• The innumerable little hand carts.

This all leads me to my letter:

Dear Target,

I have a great idea for all those empty parking spots in your big ugly structure! Why not fill them with shuttles which will ferry us sans-automobiles across 116th St. to all our respective subway lines? It can be every 15 or 20 minutes; I realize 116th is crowded as it is. Then, at night, they can have that whole parking garage to themselves.

You may also want to think about selling little red wagons.

xo
Becca

As for you, lady with ham, I’ll see you on the shuttle.

But I forgot about that until this very moment when that wall post brought it all back in a flash. If this were TV you’d see me looking at my computer confusedly and then the picture would go all wavy to Young Me sitting in stunned indignation at the sabbath dinner table of the Kosher Dining Hall. And then we come back to me right here at my laptop gazing at my Facebook feed.

Here’s something I always remember about that ex, though (and I remember a lot of things, believe me). When he got his driver’s license, he drove on over to my house in his beat-up, so old it barely had seat belts, Dodge to show me he could drive, and promptly hit my parents’ car. That’s what bumpers are for! But he was just that kind of guy. Anyway, I went just now to look at the wife of my ex/sister of my friend’s page and what do you know? Her and my ex’s daughter just got her driver’s license this week. The post was “S_____ just passed her driving test! She’d better start saving for a car.” What, no unsafe-at-any-speed mobile to give her?

I refrained from telling the story about S____’s father’s big driver’s license moment in a comment. Particularly since I’ve never met this woman and how many people do I really want to freak out today? Besides you people, of course. But this, my friends, is why you do not need big round numbers to tell you that you are old. Also because the below event, which seemed to be way in the future when the episode came out, is today.

Luckily, just like Lisa, I haven’t aged a bit.

This could be my most inspired song choice ever. Just for a treat, link goes to full song on YouTube.
The Normal – Warm Leatherette

Hahahahaha, that would be ridonculous to expect Deas to send me that, wouldn’t it? Except she already did and for no reason except that she’s teh awesome, as we say in the US with our lesser educations. I mean, look at this bounty!*

*there was no Bounty. But look at the Coffee Crisps!

How classy does this program look? Even the tennis is fancier in England.

And you can’t see from this angle, but this thing is like a book, with big glossy pages. It is seriously stunning, like the sun shining on Centre Court. Which never happens but you follow me, I’m sure.

Here are the three best aspects of receiving this in my mailbox today.

1. I was really hungry and desiring of chocolate (but that could have been any day, admittedly).
2. The heatwave just broke and so I did not find a chocopuddle at the bottom of said mailbox.
3. I sort of knew Canadian food items would be coming but I had NO IDEA there would be a Wimbledon program! I was so excited that I clutched it to my chest and hugged it. I’m a little embarrassed about this, so let’s just keep that part between us.

Anyway, xoxo and thanks so much, Deas (and Mr. Deas, who I assume toted it home). I owe you 5,001 expired Metrocards!

And to the writers of my 4,999 other comments (if you’re wondering why the comment count is higher, it counts crazy spam comments, too), thank you all for being the other half if not more of this blog! Because if a post is published in the forest and no one comments… the computer is probably being eaten by monkeys.

Title is the slogan of Canada Post and means, according to the handy Queen’s English provided, “From anywhere… to anyone.” Which could also be the slogan of this blog. Or Measles/Mumps/Rubella.

It is true, I will use any excuse to link to this exciting Canadian artist.
Loverboy – Turn Me Loose.

I was already planning this post when, while discussing a possible excursion of mine to an area a few states away, North of the City asked me, “have you researched the transportation there?” Well, of course I have researched it. Down to every possible permutation. Greyhound or Bolt Bus or Chinatown bus or regional rail? Which is the cheapest? Which is the fastest? Which meets up with the local bus of a city in which I have spent no more than five minutes of my life? Researching local buses is by far the most complicated yet interesting part of any trip I plan, in any state or country. The websites of local bus networks are meant for locals and they read that way. Even my own Metro-North site organizes its local trains by “East of the Hudson” and “West of the Hudson.” If I told you to meet me in Croton or in Hawthorne, how would you know which of those to choose? This is what you’re up against when you plan trips by public transport.

But I love doing it. I love the challenge and the planning and the novelty. And then, of course, you have to do the whole process again for the way back. That’s the most important part, really, and I discovered that two decades ago in college, planning a trip to a mall in the suburbs of Baltimore. I loved malls and the one in White Plains, where I grew up, was easily accessible by public transportation. The Bee Line, Westchester’s system of buses, has actually won awards for its coverage and organization. And then I came to the Baltimore area where things weren’t quite so good. I remember phoning the Capital Center in Landover and asking them how to get there by public transportation so I could see the Rangers play. “You can’t,” the guy said to me matter-of-factly. “I mean, you could take a taxi here, but no cab would come pick you up.” That sort of stunned me. How could there be a place not accessible by public transportation? That’s when I became a Baltimore Skipjacks fan. You could get to the Baltimore Arena easily on the #3. You still can, even though the Skipjacks left long ago and they keep talking about replacing it. The Cap Center is gone, though, replaced by an arena that is situated on top of a transit stop. Ha!

But back to the malls. I found that this mall (and I honestly cannot remember which one – White Marsh? Hunt Valley? Who knows) could be reached by bus and I planned my trip. Except somehow, I missed that there was only one bus in the afternoon that returned. Naturally, I figured that out after I had done my shopping and needed to get back to school. And then, and then, I had to go to the ATM and withdraw $40 which was what the cab cost to go home. That may not seem like a lot now, but back then, I had so little cash in my account that I usually couldn’t even use the ATM because it only dispensed twenties and I never had $20. I think I used my credit card to take a cash advance. The only way I could keep from mentally berating myself all the way home was to tell myself that it was a $40 lesson. The lesson was, always plan the way back, too. And I always do now. It seems pretty cheap if you average it over the years that it has stood me well. Good as gold.

I also learned to stick with Owings Mills or Mondawmin as far as malls went. In Mondawmin, which was the closest mall to campus, I was the only white person I ever saw. I remember thinking, “do no other Hopkins students know there’s this mall right here?” And you could take the bus or the subway, a rarity in Baltimore. Weird! Once, on the bus, in which I was also always the only white person who got on west of Hampden, I was walking down the aisle to get to my seat when a guy I had passed sitting in front called out, “I got jungle fever!” Later, I starred in the Baby Got Back video.

Anyway, I may still take this trip, it’s not been decided yet, but either way, it was fun to plan. The way back, too.

Stan Ridgway – Stranded