~*~ Rose-Colored Glosses ~*~

hovering between the quest for absolute truth and the pursuit of utter nonsense
gloss, n.
  1. A brief explanatory note usually inserted in the margin or between lines of a text.
  2. An extensive commentary, often accompanying a text or publication.
  3. A purposefully misleading interpretation or explanation.
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"The limits of my language means the limits of my world."
-Ludwig Wittgenstein
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-Mahatma Gandhi
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A man with a watch knows what time it is. A man with two watches is never sure.
"Well, art is art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is water! And East is East and West is West and if you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste more like prunes than a rhubarb does. Now, uh... Now you tell me what you know."
-Groucho Marx

~ Tuesday, December 20, 2005 ~

complaint department
The TWU people extended the negotiation deadline till today at midnight, which at this point has come and gone, but still no reports of the threatened walkout of our city's circulatory system. Bit nerve-wracking, all this waiting and wondering if. On the other hand, the weather's been hovering right around freezing these past few days, and it's been sunny and dry, so it's fine for biking, and it's nice to have some more time to zip around on Mercury. Thanks to a new route I discovered from my apartment to the Brooklyn Bridge, I've almost got it to the point where biking and taking the subway to work take the same amount of time. If I could just push my speed up a little bit more, I wouldn't ever have to forego the pleasures of biking for the sake of getting to work closer to on time. Practice practice practice. And maybe a louder bell would help, too...I never thought I'd be all hostile toward people strolling across the bridge, but honestly, must you stand right in the middle of the bike lane to snap a picture of the view? And then refuse to budge when you hear me politely dinging behind you? Your side is right there, just south of the nice bright yellow line, with the universally recognized picture of a pedestrian stenciled at frequent intervals. What, you can't squeeze into the boundaries of the pedestrian lane and still walk seventeen abreast? My heart bleeds for you.

And as long as I'm lamenting over things about which no one else would possibly care, a few months ago I discovered that Duane Reade, the New York drugstore industry's answer to Starbucks, carries packages of peanut-butter-on-cracker sandwiches, bundled into minipacks of four sandwiches each and then sold at the inexplicable price of 99 cents per package of eight minipacks. That's 32 peanut-butter-cracker sandwiches at just over 3 cents each. Cheap, tasty, filling, moderately nutritious, and conveniently wrapped in snack-sized portions. And? They aren't there anymore! My favorite snack, discontinued without a trace.

Maybe I'll organize a protest.

[Update, c. 8 am: They *are* striking. Wish me luck navigating all the oblivious pedestrians on my way to class today.]

~ prattled by Miriam at 1:53 a.m. [+]

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