Arg. Just wrote a somewhat longish entry and then deleted it before I posted it. Boo! I was telling you all a really cute story about Stephen's friend Jenn from school who performed in the show Stephen and I went to see on Friday night and now it's gone forever, and I can't be bothered to repeat it. Sucks, sucks, sucks.

I photographed a woman being ordained as a Lutheran bishop tonight. No little old ladies harangued me for photographing in the church, which is good. I definitely worked through some of my "shooting in church" phobia, which is also very good. I photographed the bishop about two weeks ago, when we did a special profile on her. (She's the first female bishop in PA, and only the fifth in the country) Tonight's assignment was like a follow-up thing. She was so nice to work with two weeks ago that I was really happy for her tonight, which made sitting through the two-hour service and waiting thirty-five minutes to get close enough to her to take a close-up celebratory hug shot seem a lot less tiresome.

The Lutheran ceremony was exactly like a Catholic service, (I mean, EXACTLY, the music, prayers, responsorials, everything) with the exception of the presence of female clergy. It was really interesting. I kept thinking about this button HEF has on her backpack that says, "Ordain women or stop baptizing them." If the Catholic church did start ordaining women, would they be called "priests" or "priestesses," do you think? Oh well. It won't happen during this particular papacy.

Now I have this song by Meryn Cadell going through my head. The chorus of the song has a repeating line that goes, "The pope, pope, pope." (I would really have to sing this for you to get the full effect, but it's a very funny, albeit irreverant song.)

The pope, pope, pope.

Remind me sometime to tell you the story about seeing the Pope in Vienna where I started hallucinating and nearly passed out from heat exhaustion. At one point, I thought I saw angels descending from the Hapsburg Palace. It made me happy because I figured that if I died, I would stop being thirsty. Then this really nice Austrian family gave me some Pepsi and the hallucinations stopped shortly thereafter.

The pope, pope, pope.

By the way, Stephen is 23 today!

New article about women's health Up on My Soapbox... If you've been taking prescription meds, you need to read this.

What are you guys doing? Why aren't you blogging? Nick, did they actually find some work for you to do at your temp job? :) Tee hee. I am teasing. I am only blogging regularly because-- essentially, I have no life.

Actually, that's not true. Jason and I hung out twice this week, which was great, and I have a fabulous weekend planned.

Stephen is on his way here RIGHT NOW- (phone ringing, it's him! Hooray! He's a bit lost north of Lititz. He's following a mud-splattered pickup truck with a bumper sticker that says "Country Boy" and he swears that the men in front of him have no teeth. I have no idea how he can see their teeth. Anyway...) I can't wait for him to get here. We're going to Poe Evermore at the Ren Faire tonight, and then we're eating at the Little Corner of Germany (haven't been there since 1996 with Dave Kneier, whose sphincter turned inside out and absorbed his entire body... I'm sorry, but it's true...) which is a very fun, very yummy restaurant owned by an adorable elderly German couple, and then we're going to stay in a little country cottage I stumbled on in York County and then we're going to DC to visit his brother, sister-in-law and nephew, who is completely adorable and said his first word, "Mommy," last week.

My first word was "Sissy." (Hi, Manda!) Kelly's brother's first word was "Shit." I remember when Brad and Kristen Plotner taught Greg the phrase, "This tastes like shit." He had no idea what it meant; it was very funny when I was 7. What were your first words?

Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait. I haven't seen Stephen since August 6th. I am going to try really, really hard to never let it go this long again. Sigh....

Okay, so it's really late, and I should totally be asleep, but I wanted to write something so that all you cubicle dwellers out there (to borrow a phrase from Jason) have something to greet you in the morning. :)

My last few days have been really, really busy. Incidentally, going to atomic power plants when they are in an intense security lockdown and taking pictures of Scary Men with Big Guns after they tell you not to and then rushing around like an idiot, driving too fast (which is bad because if I get another ticket I have to go to Traffic School) to get to a field hockey game, of all things, is not generally not most people's idea of a "typical" work day. A very seasoned photographer was coaching me last week about what to do if security types (Scary Men with Big Guns count) try to take your film, camera, digital card, etc. His strategy mostly involves hiding rolls of film and digital cards in one's socks while handing over blank rolls. Little did I know how useful that advice was going to be...

It was fine. I have to say, that as I was getting back into my car after photographing SMWBGs that I felt very, very glad to live in America. I feel certain that if I tried to pull a stunt like that in say, China, that I would be dead. Dead, dead, dead. We are very lucky to have a free press in this country.

"A free press is essential to the survival of democracy." -S.I. Newhouse

On that note, good night. :)

Okay, here is how to install comments via reblogger.


1. Open up your Blogger template and insert the following code in the section:



2. Next you need to add a link within your blogger template that your readers can click on to view and post comments. Insert the following code whithin the tags in your template, where you want the link to appear:
Comment

3. Save the changes to your template and you're done.

These instructions with a little more information can be found here.

I hope that works. :) Good luck! I'll be sure to comment on people's sites so they don't have weblog loneliness when they ask insightful, funny questions such as "Do we really need a bigger McDonald's?" because no one answers them.... Sigh...

Tee hee. Only kidding. Just a little melodrama there...

Voila! It's Jason!!!! Go visit his "nonsensical ramblings from a cubicle dweller." :)

Last night Jason and I went over to Doc Holliday's and had a drink or two. I definitely needed to do that after yesterday. Yesterday was okay; it was just oh-so-very, very Monday. Sigh... But I had my "big brother" to listen to me rant and rave, so that was good.

I am thinking of founding the Assocation for Rejected Creative People. My internship is over in two-and-a-half weeks, and my future is still extremely uncertain. I have a plan of a attack, and a fairly decent Plan B in the works, but I think there should be some kind of organization for unemployed and/or soon-to-be-unemployed artists who are just craving for an opportunity to be given an opportunity, recognized, acknowledged or even paid. I don't know how this would work, but there would definitely be sessions where the artists are given Gratuitous Praise: "You're incredible! Your work is amazing! It changed my life! You're pretty!" and the RJCs could say, "Thank you! I'm so glad! Wow! I'm honored that my work touched you!"

Sigh...

Well, my boss just came in and asked me to go shoot the new Uber-McDonald's they're building on Rt. 30. Apparently, it's huge, and there's an electrician in a cherry-picker wearing a bright orange cowboy hat. They tore down a Long John Silver's, and they are building it right next to another McDonald's, which makes no sense. What are they going to do with the old McDonald's? And do we really need a bigger McDonald's?

Wenus. Wenus wenus wenus.

I think I made a giant wenus out of myself tonight.

I was just too much. You know how SARK talks about being "too much" and how people who are too much should have "too much" parades? Yeah, it was like that. I was a one-woman "too much" parade.

Sigh.... wenus.

Today I had a massage and it was excellent. I walked around feeling all new-agey, until I went to Weight Watchers and found out I didn't lose any weight at all. Sigh.. I have been cheating, just a little. I guess this reaffirms my committment to staying within the points. Also, my scary back knots knotted back up after about forty-minutes which detracted from the new-agey feeling, not just Weight Watchers. Have no fears, I thoroughly beat Compulsive Eater Angie with the Mentally Healthy Stick before I weighed in, so everything is fine in that department. I promise.

When I was getting my massage, Melissa the Excellent Massage Therapist hit one of the biggest scary knots, and I said, "Oh, there's one." and she said, "Yeah that guy just stood up and announced himself. 'My Name is Knot!'" she said, pretending to be the knot. It was very funny. I think she's great. I told her about SARK. She would love SARK.

I told her about SARK's bad massage with the crinkly paper, I think she talks about it in "Transformation Soup," and then I told her about the bad massage I got in Bethlehem in the summer of 2000. It was awful, the lady couldn't find my knots (God knows how) and she called in her boss and the boss yelled at her in front of me, (which was scary, especially because I was practically naked under the sheet) and then the boss told me "We're not doctors, you know," and I tried to be like, "Oh, I know, I've had massages before and they really helped, so I just thought..." and she said, "If you knew you had problems, you should have booked an hour massage," and I said, "Oh, I thought I did" and she said "No, you didn't, I just looked in the book," so I apologized profusely (Why? Why did I do that?) and I was so freaked out by this scary yelling boss (She was wearing a dumb white baseball cap inside, which was annoying, too) and I started to cry as soon as the boss left. Then the Scary Massage Lady said, "Please don't cry. Don't cry" and she put her arms around my head and put her mouth like, practically on my ear. I should have left, but I was too freaked out and still naked, I might add, so she tried again to find my knots, which she did, actually, but then we were out of time. When I went to pay, Scary Massage Lady said, "Oh. You were in the book for an hour," but she charged me for an hour anyway. I just wanted to get out of there, and I felt bad that her boss yelled at her, so I tipped her and left. (For someone who is not usually passive, I was having real issues that night.) Anyway, I cried and drove around Allentown (wouldn't you cry, if you were in Allentown?) and ultimately decided to dye my hair red, so I went to Superfresh (to buy hair dye, it was open all night) and dyed my hair Morrocan Spice red, which I am still trying to grow out, I might add.

Anyway, Melissa the Good Lancaster Massage Therapist was appropriately horrified and amused by my story. We laughed, we cried, (we didn't) it was better than Cats.

Every woman should have a good masage therapist, hairdresser and OB/GYN. I have decided, yes.

Okay, it's almost ten o'clock and I have been at work for thirteen hours, mostly because work is better than home. Actually, home has been better, I can't find an apratment that will give me a month-by-month lease and so I am staying put. For now. Sigh... It's okay.

So today I photographed a cross country meet. I had never been to a cross-country meet before. Scott, it made me think of you. There was so much positive engery in the air. I wish I had known you better in high school so that I could have come to cheer you on. I wished as I stood in front of the screaming parents, coaches, teammates and friends that I had someone to root for, I mean , really root for. As it was, I documented the joy and strength on the winners' faces. I also shot the joyful tears of runners who beat their best times, even though I knew there wasn't going to be space in the sports section for all those images. Also, I was very, very lucky because I got the privilerge of photographing the Eastern York high school girls' team as they stood in a circle around a tree and said a prayer after the race. I saw them do it before the race, and I shot it from very far away with a long lens. Afterward, I told them how cool I thought it was, and they said they do it after the races, too. They permitted me to sit in the middle of their circle and photograph them holding hands and praying. It will run in the paper tomorrow, and I hope they treasure their special tradition caught on film- er, digital card. It was their last race of the season; for some, the last race of their high school careers. I feel so lucky and awed that people open their lives to me. I love my job.

By the way, the prayer was totally voluntary, and quiet, and not at all school-sponsored or on any school property, so it wasn't breaking any constitional laws or proselytizing anyone in any way. Gotta love that free speech thing, especially when it's not being abused.

And... My friend Dave from school was there! He just started working at the York Dispatch, our competition, like on Monday. I couldn't believe it. He said, "Angie, hi!" and I just stared at him. He thought I didn't know who he was, but I totally did. I just couldn't figure out why he was at a cross-country meet in York. He's a good friend, but not necessarily someone I have kept in touch with or spent much time with outside of Remembrance Scholar activities or the occasional shared bagel in food.com (the cafe in the communications school- how cute! There's no actual food.com website though. There should be. And a webcam, too. Hey Luke...) but I have a friend in York!

Actually, I have three friends in York now. Dave, Best Work Friend Joanne and New Work Friend Sam. Sam, Joanne and I are going to have a Drunken Soapmaking Party, as I have made them soap, which they love. Hooray for girlfriends! (Sam is a girl.)

By the way, Alissa, I bought some suspension glycerin and soap herbs and special "massage" soap molds. That is a very fun combination!!!

Tomorrow I am going to Beaux Visages (Bee-Axe Vizz-uh-jess, just for you, Kelly) for a massage. Bahlobbadoo Timm-uh.

Okay, I have to gush for a minute about why I love Stephen. So I had this terrible fight with my mom, and I am still not speaking with my father after a fight we had last night, and I was driving around with an empty gas tank, contemplating sleeping in my car with my fugitive dog, miserable, unhappy, feeling utterly alone (except for aforementioned fugitive dog and lovely supportive friends on cell phone), looking for numbers to apartments in York-- the first capitol of Pennsyltucky!-- off of signs in flowershop windows. (Stephen gushing part coming soon...) I finally go home, (in part because I really had to pee,) determined to move out tomorrow, and I call Stephen to tell him I went home after all, which is what he and everyone else were encouraging me to do in the gentle, mild voices that people use to talk to people who are standing on ledges, both literal and figurative.

(HERE COMES THE MUSHY PART. DO NOT READ IF ALREADY NAUSEOUS).

And... he makes me laugh. Out loud. Hard. Side-splitting laughter. I can't even tell you what we were laughing about. The way his cat purrs, I think. (Stephen's cat's name is Mr. Pimm). And after I caught my breathe, I said, "Thank you. This has been an awful night. I can't believe you're making me laugh." and he said, "Hey, that's my job." and I said, "You're good at it!" and he said, "that's why it's my job, because I'm good at it," and I said, "Yeah, well, too bad the job doesn't come with a benefits package and other long-term investment opportunities," and he said, "Actually, it does." Wow. That just blew me away. I can not believe I have this amazing person who views my happiness as a long-term benefit/investment. I feel so blessed (not in the omnipresent "God Bless America" way)

But I am still going apartment-hunting in the morning.

Hey y'all. I'm home for the night, as is Bella. Thanks for all the support. Sorry if I worried you.

Let us cover Kelly with prayer, good vibes, excellent karma and positive, supportive "Feel Betty and Get Wilson" love, ok? She needs it. My love to all.

I have to get out of here.

Well, I just had the best weekend ever, thank you very much. Alissa took Gwen, Shauna and I hiking up a very challenging mountain. At the top, I felt incredibly strong. I can't wait to go again. I really want Stephen to come with me next time. We sort of hike (more like walk in the woods) occasionally, but I think he would get a big kick out of the rock scrambling, as it's called.

Today is a very good day at work. I did a lot of shooting, which I like. I also got a good critique from someone whose shooting routinely blows me away, which makes me feel like I'm becoming a stronger shooter, which is good. We had a lot of breaking news, which I have to say, is better than shooting the refrigerator magnet lady, although I worry about the people whose townhouse burned down (although they were really happy because they discovered that their cat, whom they began to presume dead because it was hiding, was not only alive, but completely and totally fine-- though I am willing to bet he used up one of those nine lives).

I do feel bad because I got a message from Jason on my voice mail as I was leaving town. (Hi Jason! Are you out there? Let's hang out soon!)

Don't forget Gwen's birthday is coming up on Wednesday!

Hey all you fabulous feminists and conscientious objecters (and neutral people, too!), there's something new up on my soapbox.

Alright. I am going to try and keep my title as "Miss I know everything. Miss photographic memory. Miss smarty pants. Miss...dumb...head...stupid...dumb...dork" and see if I can remember what grade Nick started shaving in. (It will be great when Scott helps Nick get comments so I can answer these challenging trivia questions on Nick's site instead of my own.) Nick was in 5th grade when he started shaving. I think. Furthermore, he had a castle calendar in 1992; he used to want to name one of his sons "Wolfgang;" and his phone number (until March 1993) was 898-1935. There. That should redeem me in the off chance that Nick started shaving in fourth grade. Mrs. Plotner was his fourth grade teacher. How did I do, Nick? :)

Hiya.... I am trying to think of something comment-worthy to say because no one has really been commenting lately, which is fine, except that the excitement of having comments hasn't really worn off for me yet, so... What do we want to talk about?

To tell you the truth, my life isn't terribly exciting. I had a championship sleep yesterday, actually. I worked the day shift Monday, although I am on the night shift for the rest of the week, and I guess I was really tired because I laid down to watch TV around 7 last night and woke up at 6 a.m. this morning, at which point I went back to sleep for 5 hours, woke up to take Belle to the vet to get her nails trimmed, after which I fell asleep again until 2 p.m. when I had to get up to come in to work. All in all, I think I slept a total of 20 hours. I can't remember the last time I did that. (Luke, you must be so proud! :) If I keep this up, I may be eligible to sleep in the Olympics.

I had these crazy dreams about Harry Potter, actually. I was in Hogwarts, and we were all running around and Ron got thrown in Hogwart's prison (not Azkaban) for not being able to pay his student loans for Hogwarts tuition. Hmm... I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that my student loan payments start in a few weeks, and I have no real prospect of a fulltime job.

I wish, I wish, I wish I could just stop worrying about that. I am sure that someday I will look back on this time in my life and see it as really relaxing, when I had no scary committments to mortgages or children. But really, my internship is over in about a month, and I don't know what the hell I am going to do. Actually, yes I do. I am going to keep pursuing contacts, go back to freelancing fulltime and maybe try and substitue teach for $100 a day, and try and freelance for the AP and the AFP now that I'm digital and that's great and everything will be fine, blah blah blah.

I miss my boyfriend. I miss my friends. I miss my sister. I miss the women's studies department, who would tell me how to think about this war in Afghanistan thing while letting me believe I was coming to those conclusions on my own, (as scary and patriarchal as that truly is, despite the fact that they try not to be patriarchal and scary.)

I really have to try and learn to live in the moment. I never appreciate things the way they are. Someday when I have a job and all the things I am longing for now, I am sure that I will wish I were closer to my parents. I am going to try and appreciate my life and where I am while I am there.

Right now I appreciate 1.) the fact that I get to spend time with my parents. Someday when they are gone, (goddess forbid), I am sure I will have moments where I will want to trade all the moments between then and now to talk to them again for just five minutes. 2.) the fact that I am eating healthy and not torturing myself about food. There have been times when it has been all that I think about and I am grateful for the fact that I am making clear choices about eating without being neurotic 3.) the fact that I get to spend a lot of time with Nanny. I do like her wonderfully caring, if somewhat eccentric, group of friends, and I am grateful to be near her. Well, that's a good list for now. I have to go back to work.

RAAAAHHH! A thousand points for me! A thousand points for me! Nick, I do, in fact, remember who coined the phrase, "May your days be filled with cranberry sauce!!! (Drumroll, please-- Huh, drumroll is rather appropriate here, actually)....... Sarah Richards! Thank you, thank you very much! Test not my psycho memory or I shall be forced to tell you what I wore on December 28, 1992 (and yes, I do know) There is something gratifying about having a photographic memory in times like this... :)

Alissa and I just ate at the Melting Pot, and it was soooo good. We are leaving for the Dar Williams concert in a couple of minutes. Yay! Dar!

So I was talking to Alissa last night, and I was telling her a story about the Renaissance Faire, which I attended last Sunday with Jason and Gwen (Hi guys!), and I told a story that Alissa just thought was hilarious, and so I am putting it up here for your enjoyment. Okay, so I should start out by saying that Jason kind of hates the Ren Faire (oooh, I feel like I'm all in touch with the people at the faire since I say "Ren Faire"-- Call me Ian. In a good way. :) because when he was in fifth grade or something, he went to the Ren Faire with the special interest class, and he had a dagger or a bow and arrow or something, and one of the queen's guards yelled at him for having a weapon in front of the queen. So Jason is a little leary about Ren Faire characters (I think it's kind of like my fear of people who were in dance theater, except for Amanda and HEF), but Gwen and I talk him into going with us anyway.

So we're at the faire, and there were many, many opportunties to embarrass Jason and call attention to him, but Gwen and I were so good. We valiantly fought the urge to embarrass him, until we were about to leave. One of the jesters was walking by, and I couldn't help myself. I pulled the jester aside and told him that my friend always gets yelled at by characters at the Ren Faire, and would he please yell at my friend? So he started shaking his finger in a "Naughty Naughty" type way and going "BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH" (I really have to do this imitation for you audibly.) Jason was doing that adorable Jason thing where he is enjoying something despite himself, and he doesn't want to admit to anyone that he thinks something is good and/or funny, so he kind of laughs and blushes and shakes his head and says things like "Why? Why would you do that?"

He also let us call him by his old embarrassing knickname, (which I will not post up here,) which was very sweet of him. He also let Best College Friend Jo and I drag him onto many, many rollercoasters at Hershey Park last month (which may be because, frankly, Jo is hot:). He is like a brother to me, and I love spending time with him. Yay Jason!

I just got my digital camera, and I love it! It is so good. It's revolutionary; it really is. I am so excited that I want to roll around on the floor. Unfortunately, installing the special software messed up everything with the browser here at work, and my boss if frustrated beyond belief, which I totally understand. I feel so bad, even though it blatantly was not my fault, it was the software's fault, and the software is brand new and there are obviously some quirks Nikon needs to work out. I feel responsible, even though I wasn't the one installing the programs or anything. I really have to stop that. Sigh....

Hey everyone. In you’ve read Alissa’s page, then you know all about her awful thing on Sunday where someone stole her wallet. I felt terrible for her, but I was glad that my mom and I were there to help out. It really, really sucks. And I should know, because as Alissa said on her page, I do, in fact, lose my wallet every six months or so. She also remarked that she wanted to call me since I would know what to do. Even if you don’t follow Alissa’s blog you might find this useful, just in case.

Happy October!! I love October. I think this is the best month of the year. For one thing, Halloween is by far my favorite holiday.
My dad and Brad and I would always set up these fun displays in our front yard. One year I got to be a severed head on a platter. It was great.

I love when the leaves turn orange against a brillant cyan sky. (For one thing, orange and cyan are opposites on the color wheel, so that's a particularly good combination as far as visual impact goes... Shutting Photojournalist Angie up now). I love scary hayrides and football games (except now that I am covering high school football for the paper. It's kind of fun, actually, except for the little kids who follow me around saying. "Hey TV lady! Hey TV lady! Hey TV lady!" I didn't answer them at first, not because I was ignoring them, but because I am so obviously not shooting with a TV/video camera and I didn't realize they meant me. I am the Newspaper Lady, not the TV Lady) and apple cider and marching band. In Syracuse, October also meant the first snow, which is kind of crazy, except that the first snow is always fun, and it's kind of cool that it gets to be in this great month.

For another thing, so many wonderful people were born in this month. (Happy birthday, Jon! You have been on Earth for 26 years!!!) Jon's birthday is today, obviously. But Brad Plotner (brotherfriend), Gwen (blurry good sisterfren), Heather Liskey (of the Highly Esteemed Young Friends), Stephen (bestpartnerloveoflifetimefriend)- AAHH! I just dropped veggie dip on my pants ARG!-- and Erika (College Roommate Goddessfriend) all have birthdays this month. Hooray for all of you for being alive and in my life!

DO NOT READ THIS NEXT PART IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THE TOPIC OF WOMEN'S FERTILITY!!!! Okay? That was a fair warning, right? This year I will also be celebrating the ten-year anniversary of my first period on October 21. Woo hoo! A full decade of menstruation. I came inside from playing field hockey in 8th period gym class when I discovered it. I had spent the quarter in change on a Strawberry Shortcake/Chief Crunchy frozen confection (Doh!) so I couldn't buy the needed item from the convenient machine in the stall, so I had to go to 9th period English and ask Mrs. Quay (who probably stopped being fertile during the Carter Administration) for a pass to the nurse. She said, "Tut, tut. (She actually used the words "tut, tut") "You have a word wealth test to take, Miss Gaul" (She actually said "Miss Gaul." Hi Scott! :) I was like, "Uh, I'll be right back." And I was. It wasn't terribly eventful, but I feel like celebrating it nonetheless. The anniversary is October 21. Aren't you glad you know that?

IT IS NOW SAFE TO RESUME READING. There. Well, actually, I should go. My film is ready to come out of the dryer.