Sense of Taste

Coming to You From a "Sort Of" Malden Resident

2005-10-14T16:35:00.000-05:00

Greetings. Between moving to my new apartment in the glorious Boston suburb of Malden (Up on the T's utterly amazing Orange line to Oak Grove) and catching a monster cold, posting various witticisms hasn't been too high on my priority list. All is well again, however, and I am back to doing very little with my life.

The "sort of" in the title actually comes from the simple fact that I have yet to change my state of residency. It costs over a $100 to change a license over from RI to MA. Not to mention I have yet to get anything official with my name on it besides the lease.

As for recent observations:
-The main branch of the Boston Public Library ROCKS.
-A big WTF to people who bring large amounts of luggage with them on the T during rush hour. I bet that bargain flight out of Logan doesn't seem such a good idea NOW, Mr. I-have-to-bring-a-huge-suitcase-and-a-bedroll-and-a-enormous-backpack-on-the-T-at-8am.

Good to be free again!

Getting off (on) the train, or Two guys, a girl, and the T

2005-09-23T07:38:00.000-05:00

After grabbing a Metro paper from the seat next to me after the gentleman reading it changed at D-town X-ing (sorry, you know my love of mockery), I spent part of my Red line ride conflicted: shall I go see Viggo’s new movie, or Johnny Deep’s new movie? Honestly, they both look interesting (and, hey, its not like I’d be looking at Johnny, anyway…see, I’m not that shallow!) …And they are (good-looking and) mighty fine actors.

It was after finishing the paper while we were pulling into Central that I took note of the couple sitting directly across from me. They were…well, I’d say ‘kissing,’ but I don’t think that it would convey the full picture here; they were ‘making out.’ At 7:45 in the morning. On the T.

Now, I don’t have a problem with all PDA; some handholding, cuddling, and the occasional kiss are perfectly fine. I just don’t need to hear wet, sucking sounds while I try and look away as his hand moves from her face down her neck and to her breast/shoulder. It seemed to make some other folks a bit uncomfortable, as well.

It got a bit stranger, though, after another young man plopped down next to the guy and snuggled up against him. The two guys (without even saying hi or acknowledging the arrival) gazed at each other a bit lustfully (ouch, nice word choice there, Sarah) while the new guy played footsie with the man who was again nuzzling the girl.

The idea of two guys and a girl didn’t bother me (after all, I’ve imagined more…I mean worse…er, other things); I just found it all a little out of place on the T. A little PDA is fine, people, but I don’t want to feel as though I’ve participated in something when I’m getting off the train.

Window Shopping (on the T) for Information

2005-09-13T07:59:00.000-05:00

Having both a librarian and a historian inside of one can be a bother at times. Never more than when one discovers a "mystery" that needs to be solved in order to satisfy some insatiable curiosity.

Riding the Red line from Central Square to Harvard, I frequently would simply space out and look out the "windows" into the nothingness of the tunnel. Soon after I began commuting in July, I noticed what seemed to be an old revolving gate leading to light in the tunnel itself (less than a minute out of Harvard. 'Must be an old station.' I thought to myself. I was curious, but I figured that I was lucky that you could see that much and ignored the impulse to rush over to the window.

I happened to be paying particular attention that night, as we left Harvard station, to the wall on the "right" side of the train. About the same distance out, I noticed a break, but I couldn't see anything. Determined to see all that I could, sitting next to the windows and looking out became a bit of a mission for me, as did finding out if this was the "old" Harvard station (and just more about lost T stations and the history of the T in general).

I did a bunch of catalog searching, finding a few books at the Boston Public Library, but nothing that really satisfied my curiosity. I e-mailed the folks at the Boston Historical Society, but they have yet to respond. A helpful MBTA Red line employee did respond to my question (via e-mail), though, noting that what I was seeing ARE the remnants of the old Harvard station, before the line was extended out to Alewife.

Its rather creepy to look at, actually (very Pneumatic transit Ghostbusters II-esque...Without the river of slime...as far as I know). There is some "spray-paint wall art" (graffiti) and lots of trash, but you can sometimes see parts of the stairs or the old stripe of red tiles on the wall. You can see it on both sides (though just the gate on the "left") while coming towards Alewife, but I've only seen tiles on the "Left" when heading back to the city.

If you know of any other "lost" stations, let me know, as I'd love to spend a day just traveling around looking at them (and finding out more about them).

Update (2005.09.13): I took a look on the "left" tonight when heading back into Boston...you can actually catch a glimpse of stairs going up if you're good.

Feeling useless, but not tweezer in the eye useless...

2005-08-29T08:50:00.000-05:00

Ever find that nothing you are doing is helping anyone, making anyone's life better? It is just so upsetting, feeling like so much is going wrong in the world, so much suffering is happening...And not only am I doing nothing to stop it or prevent it, I don't even feel as though I could do anything.

Sigh.

When I got on the Red line at South Station this morning (it was fairly full and I was standing), there was a woman, about my age, sitting in a seat and putting mascara on. And not just a touch up, she spent the entire ride from SS to Park Street working on coating one eye. This woman was putting on a lot of mascara. Granted, I don't wear makeup often anymore; I wake up too early (4:45am) to really care. But, it seems a bit dangerous (and, you know, kind of stupid) to hold something so close to your eyes on a moving train that frequently jolts you around.

If this wasn't bad enough, after we left Charles/MGH, she pulled out a compact and a set of tweezers. Really. There she was, sitting on the train as we arrived in Kendall Square plucking her eyebrows like it was the most natural thing in the world.

People are STRANGE.

Maybe a cane or a walker?

2005-08-25T07:36:00.000-05:00

Near some homes for the retired folk in Lincoln, there is a sign that I just noticed today as we we're driving to the T station. It is a yellow diamond with a picture of a person walking.

Under it, the sign says "Elderly Crossing."

I hope I'm not the only one who fins this hilarious/a bit sad.

Sights and Smells

2005-08-22T07:22:00.000-05:00

My commute is never boring, at least.

Sitting in my usual spot (first car, bottom row,second seat on the left in the back), I welcomed the return of Mr. Mustached Conductor man. He (apparently) is back from vacation and still rocking the bushy 'stache. I was happy to see him.

Just before we pulled into the station at Sharon, I saw two deer in a small meadow just off the tracks. They were startled by the train, it seemed, but content enough to stand there as watch as we passed. Since it was a bit misty this morning, the whole scene was quite beautiful.

The air rushed up the stairs just as I made my way to the bottom. I've smelled a lot of B.O. on the T, but this was like a cloud of it, just hanging in the air. A few people were making faces, and even that very friendly woman who passes out the Metro paper seemed to notice it.

As for my workday, I received the e-mail letting me know that my boss is on vacation this week, which is cool. Except that with him and the "big" boss gone, I'm not getting paid until next week (which, by that time, I may as well just wait until Wed. And get the whole month in one fell swoop). Not that I'm going to die without it, but I need to remember to get paid.

Things I hate: When people put each file (each, as in one) in a separate folder when they send them to us. UGH!

Run Away! Run Away!

2005-08-19T07:50:00.000-05:00

Ever feel uncomfortable when you see your co-workers outside of work? I do. Especially on the T. One of my co-workers (whom I see on occasion) takes the Attleboro line into South Station with me and then the Red Line. And I always end up walking right behind her into South Station. It is a weird situation. A nod, a "hi"...am I obligated to talk? I don't know if she noticed before, but she may have noticed today, since I became so frazzled and embarrassed that I ran around head of the woman walking slowly in front of me (something I would have done anyway) and down to the Red line.

Ahh...the social anxiety.

Sigh

2005-08-18T07:43:00.000-05:00

Now, I usually don't feel comfortable about posting links to political stuff (really political stuff), but I read this letter and felt as though I should. It doesn't matter what you think of Cindy Sheehan, really. Or even if you choose to believe that the letter is a hoax. Just read it and remember that those "14 people killed" you hear about at the top of the newscast all have people who love them.

As do, I'm sure, Iraqis who are killed.

Sometimes, I think that we have to look beyond politics, beyond strategy...beyond all this crap that gets in the way of (but is also part of, for better or worse) our humanity.

I know its naive to ask, but I wish we could stop killing each other, just for a day. Maybe even reach out our hands and help people in need for a change, too.

Another thing...

2005-08-17T07:14:00.000-05:00

Ever re-read something you've written a couple of days later and think: "Gosh, I'm really funny?" Followed inevitably by the "Damn, I'm a big loser for laughing at my own adorable-ness."

It happens to me a lot.

I got a little upset and offended this morning when I read this article on depictions of evil in modern fiction. Why? Partly because I've been talking up the political themes in Harry Potter for years and no one listens...and partly because I am reading the Kushiel series Carey wrote that the author of the article dismisses as a story about "a heroic prostitute-spy with sexual superpowers in an alternate version of the Middle Ages." All that is true, but it is also a series full of amazing political intrigue and a villain that makes Karl Rove's gambits look simplistic. (Not to mention that I admire Carey's attention to historical detail as it could have been...its one of those books that you wish you'd written yourself)

Maybe I'm just overly sensitive.

Maybe I can prove that by admitting that I've noticed the absence of our regular conductor on the morning commuter train and am concerned and upset that he isn't here every morning to say "hi" to. Not that the new guy isn't nice, but I miss the old one...he had this adorable mustache (and you KNOW how much I hate facial hair) and glasses that make him look like a conductor straight out of a period film. His "Hafta Have Hockey" Shirts visible underneath his blue button down are just priceless.

Hopefully, he's just on vacation.

See what I mean about being too sensitive?

Random Musings

2005-08-16T11:11:00.000-05:00

Just a couple thoughts for today:

Get the Hook: OK, people...I know that he bled for us, but can we all agree that Curt Schilling is a CRAPPY closer? Maybe he still has the stuff to start, I don't know. But I'm getting a bit sick of groaning every time he saunters out of the bullpen to blow a lead. Granted, he has some saves (mostly because we had such big leads he couldn't blow them), but he also gives up home runs and hits WHEN YOU JUST CAN'T.

People suck: There was a young woman (who appeared to be Muslim, due to the presence of a head scarf) whom I sat next to on the T this morning when I got on at South Station. She was sobbing, softly, as she was reading the paper. People started looking suspiciously at her and moving away in an uncomfortable manner, and it looked like one genius even got off at Downtown Crossing and walked over to a MBTA policeperson (though, in fairness, I have no idea what he said or if he actually spoke to him). She wiped her tears and got off at Park Street. I wanted to say something to her, though I hate it when people talk to me when I'm upset, so I didn't.

Now, I can understand what led people act like assholes; fear being the greatest factor, I think. But it still pissed me off to see people act like that. There was a person, crying, and all we could do was sit/stand there and look for any signs she was going to kill us all.

What the fuck is wrong with the world? Sigh.

The Fish wrap: I've never seen a newspaper with the uncanny ability to manipulate headlines quite like the Providence Journal (ok, that's just a lie, they all manipulate headlines and such).

I'm half expecting to see headlines some day reading:
-Stupid, lazy liberals criticize our brave President (Someone (hopefully with actual policy ideas) has actual facts questioning the wisdom of Bush's ideas)
-WMD's found in IRAQ---Exclusive! (Some already debunked story that the Projo will acknowledge at the end of the article has been proved false, but the headline does the damage)
-Anti-lifers/Babykillers mob State House in effort to Destroy Family Values (Pro-choice rally on state house lawn)

I'm not saying that we "liberals" don't do the same thing sometimes; of course we do...the level of spin we're engaged in just amazes me.

Recycle or Die!

2005-08-11T07:39:00.000-05:00

Fucking computer…ate my first draft of this post. I’ll start again.

The doors on some T train cars have little stickers that say, “These doors do not recycle” on them. While I was curious for the first second or so, I very quickly caught the meaning and the joke and then spent most of the ride chuckling to myself about how clever the sticker was.

Today, when I got onto the Red line, I noticed a companion sticker underneath. “Know what this means?,” it asked. I read on to see if maybe there existed somewhere a large landfill full of T doors and I was just mistaken. The sticker, placed there by some community group, explained that the recycle comment meant that the doors lacked sensors to detect objects and would not open again once they closed.

~Good.~ I thought to myself, having guessed correctly. The authors of the sticker, however, are outraged by this fact. They claim that the stickers are unclear and too difficult to understand. They also castigate the MBTA for not replacing the unsafe doors (as they planned to do, apparently).

My only concern with the stickers is that they were only in English (as were the community group stickers); they should be in Spanish as well.

Some points:

Though it may well take a moment to understand the stickers, it doesn’t matter. What fucking useless jackass is standing in the way of the door? Does anyone NEED TO BE TOLD not to stand in the way of a closing metal door? If it is crowded in the car, you keep moving in and pushing or you get out and wait for the next train. Duh.
Is there some group out there devoted to the trivial and pointless…I feel as though the same type of person who put the hot coffee in her lap and then sued McDonalds because it scalded her and came with no “coffee is hot” warning brings this to us.
The doors with sensors aren’t perfect either, folks. Just a reminder. They often “recycle” when there is nothing in the way and delay the train.
You may point out that these doors are unsafe. No, they are just less safe than the ones with the sensors (and less safe for idiots who need to be taken out by natural selection anyway). Unsafe doors would have big holes, close fast without any warning or delay, or have giant sharp teeth to increase the pain of getting caught. (Actually, those teeth are a good idea…yeah, retractable. Flash them occasionally to keep people several inches from the doors and moving quickly)
What about children, you ask? Well, if they are too small to read, it doesn’t matter (and if Dad/Mom isn’t paying attention and they get caught in the door, too bad for them. They only have themselves to blame for the child). If they can read, but just barely, an adult should still accompany them. If they are old enough to take the T by themselves, they are old enough to not get stuck in the doors.
I have compassion for lots of people. People dying of starvation or disease around the world. Even people who make poor decisions and need our help to get back on their feet. I would feel bad for someone who got caught in the doors, yeah. I wouldn’t stand there and say “Oh well, your fault.”

Basically, it annoyed me that some group of people wasted time on such a trivial issue (What is the fatality rate here? Has anyone been seriously injured in the past five years? One, maybe two people? A couple of briefcases and a newspaper?).
Focus, people! Sigh.

The Whips and Chains of Love

2005-08-09T09:07:00.000-05:00

I decided long ago that one of my personal truths is that what I long for most is that which I can never have. Or, at the very least, these are the sort of things that are most attractive to me. After all, I want plenty of attainable things, such as burritos, a hair elastic, or chocolate. Since I attempt to find happiness in my mundane, everyday existence, my desire for that isn't quite the elusive chase it may be for other.

While reading a series of books while on the commuter rail, I began to ponder my feelings for those I've cared for. Obsessing over them is easy, of course, but wondering what made me do so in the face of almost certain rejection is another matter. I've known for some time that I am a bit (or more so) on the kinky side, so I wasn't at all surprised that I identified with the heroine of the story so completely. What did give me pause was the connection it forced me to make between my physical longings and my psychological ones.

Do I simply relish the pain and despair of not being wanted by those that I desire? Consciously, I want to enter into a relationship with them...and I would most certainly have plenty to neurotically obsess over once I entered into said relationship. But, isn't there something tempting about the pain of unrequited love that keeps me going back for more?

I could argue that it is the hope for a fulfilling relationship that keeps me going back, but that doesn't entirely satisfy me (though I would possibly classify myself as a 'hopeful romantic') After all, I hold on to dreams of love long after I know, even in my heart, that they are futile. My major complaint about romantic movies, especially romantic comedies, is that things usually turn out well. Two people meet, they banter predictably and badly, and, in spite of all the faux obstacles in their path, they fall in love and end up together. Somewhere, deep inside, I want things to fall apart. There isn't enough pain, real pain, in these films to make them worth my while.

Maybe tragedy calls to me because I've experienced more of it than romantic happiness. Maybe I'm just spiteful and hate to see things work out for others where they have failed to work out for me. Maybe I dislike simplistic plots with poorly drawn, clichéd characters (That aren't satires or mock-comedies, where it is purposely done). Maybe I dislike the focus on romantic relationships in general, especially since I've never heard of or come upon a relationship problem that could easily be settled in 90 minutes. Or maybe I cringe at the idea of employing fiction to fill some deep void within the recesses of my soul, lest I become dependent upon it and stop looking for a flesh-and-blood companion. No one wants to become that fat ugly woman who reads romance novels in her free time because she is too timid and too choosy to engage in real romance...she actually sat next to me on the commuter rail on Friday. I think that Fabio's nipples graced the cover.

Next post-Me being super mean spirited and judgmental towards others! (I wish the chubby unfortunate looking lady all the happiness in the world, though...)

Actually, when one thinks about it...romantic comedies would then provide a modicum of the necessary agony. The pain of watching that which I do not have is surrounded by a small amount of pleasure.

Honestly thinking on the subject made me wonder, though...am I hanging on to -ahem- my current obsession for the sheer pain of it all? I have made some progress...deleting the name from my address book and thinking about other things/guys. But the thoughts come unbidden, no matter what I do. I guess I just have to face it: I love to be miserable.

Ads, ads everywhere, but not a drop to drink!

2005-08-05T13:41:00.000-05:00

The advertisements inside the T cars are an animal all their own. One would think that the entire city is engaged in one big clinical trial if they ended up in the correct car.

My favorite example of amusing (unintentionally) advertising is on the Red line train to Alewife/Ashmont. There is one car (hereafter known as the "Alcohol Car") that has one half plastered in those annoying Tanqueray Gin posters and the other half covered in Bud light ads featuring a scantily clad woman lustily rubbing up against a human size bottle of beer. She simply appears to be hugging a very large and condensation covered phallus, in my opinion. Everytime I end up in the Alcohol car, I suddenly feel the need to abstain from drink for life.

I must say, though, that the prize for sexually explicit and downright creepy liquor advertising has to go to those new Bacardi commercials. You know...(Bad 80's synth music) "Bacardi and Cola...they get the job done." What job? You would have to drink several rum and coke's to get drunk. If that is the job you are looking to "get done" you may as well ditch the cola and just chug Bacardi right out of the bottle. The two guys don't seem to be doing much of anything in the commercials, save answering the lame questions of attractive women. It leads me to wonder: What job are Bacardi & Cola doing? "They get the job done" makes it sound like it’s the new GHB. "Yeah, you know, I slipped her a couple of Bacardi and Cola's and she passed right out, man. He he he." It just creeps me out a bit, that's all.

Talk about bananas...

2005-07-28T10:10:00.000-05:00

I was sitting on the red line (T) headed to work yesterday morning when the man sitting a couple of seats down (there was no one in between us) suddenly fainted and fell to the floor. With my deer in the headlights freeze going quite well, I looked to see if anyone else had noticed. A woman sitting across from the man had and she was wearing hospital scrubs. She started with the “Sir? Are you ok?” and I asked her what to do. She just shrugged and asked if I had a phone (not moving out of her seat mind you, I was reaching towards him). Not having any reception, I shook my head after taking a look. She reached forward, very concerned and tentative while another gentleman came over and put his hand on the man’s shoulder (another man was over near the intercom, in case we had to call for help, as we were between Central and Harvard squares). Just as he did so, the man came to (this all happened in a matter of a minute or so, BTW). “Damn bananas,” he mumbled as he slowly sat up. The man who came over to help asked if he was ok. The man, putting his Red Sox cap back on, explained that he sometimes passed out and that he was ok. “It hasn’t happened in about five years,” he noted, rubbing his face. “Something in bananas makes it happen, the doctors can’t explain it.” The other man seemed satisfied with the explanation after checking that the guy as alright and got off at Harvard. The woman spoke to the man as we moved towards Porter (my stop). “I had two bananas for breakfast, so maybe that was it,” he answered when she asked him what set it off.

I am of no help during a crisis. I panic and freeze. Just a note for all of you, in case we are ever in this sort of situation again.

Ok…if you know bananas make you pass out, why eat two for breakfast and then go on the T (though it beats him getting into a car accident, I suppose)?

Note to Everyone

2005-07-27T14:34:00.000-05:00

I'm going to make this more of a live journal...starting sometime tomorrow. It will replace my weekly update e-mails that you all love so much;-)

Givin' Chops its Props

2005-04-27T10:49:00.000-05:00

Having lived in the UDC area for nearly two years now, I've grown accustomed to heading somewhere else for most dining experiences. When a new restaurant opened down on Connecticut near the metro stop itself, I expected very little. Riedel's looked to be like many other middling-quality restaurants that seemingly bud like yeast as one moves away from downtown. Its wine-colored awning offers seafood, chops, and barbecue. The name, posted in a much overdone and barely readable cursive script, is difficult to discern from a quick glimpse and inspires little confidence in what's to come. Thus, my friends and I took to calling the establishment "Chops."

My roommate (who happens to be vegetarian) and I went for dinner, not expecting too much. She was concerned with what sort of vegetarian offerings (if any) she could find on an urban barbecue house menu. We entered the restaurant just as the dinner hour was commencing and happy hour was slowly winding down. The quality of the surrounding complex belies Chops's minimalist charm and touches of sophisticated whimsy. The bar was populated with some urban professionals, slightly separated from the remainder of the small but effective dining area by a well-placed wall. Even at around 6pm on a Tuesday night, the bar section seemed to be rather busy. The creamed coffee walls and simple wood floors, along with the polished wood tables and clean lines of the glass and flatware are perhaps not the most relaxing furnishing for a restaurant serving southern comfort food. Nevertheless, it was wholly appropriate for one attempting to cater to a love of comfort food with an urban and polished flair.

There was no wait as we were given our choice of seats by the large picture window. Choosing only water to drink, my friend and I tackled the menu. Though it isn't as expansive as one may find at other, similar establishments, it provides a nice balance of choice and restraint, never giving one the feeling of being overwhelmed with too many choices. They offer a selection of appetizers, most with a seafood or southern component. There is one vegetarian option on the appetizer menu, the California quesadilla. A well-flavored item, it is filled with grilled vegetables and cheese. Topped with a chipotle creme, a side of a corn/relish concoction arrives in the middle of the plate. My friend, who ordered it as her meal, found it fresh-tasting and quite good, though she did remark on the small amount of corn relish placed on a large bed of spouts.

I, choosing to indulge in more typical menu fare, ordered the pulled pork platter with two sides, garlic mashed potatoes and cheese grits. While we waited for our entrees, the wait staff, which was friendly and courteous, brought a basket of bread and cornbread to the table, along with a selection of barbecue sauces. The bread was of average quality, as was the cornbread, which appeared to be flavored with chile and cheese. The flavor wasn't very apparent, though it also wasn't overpowering. The cornbread, brought in little muffins, was a bit on the dry/crumbly side for my taste. The selection of sauces was intriguing, with styles ranging from Texas to Carolina mustard. I found the Memphis sauce a bit on the thin, tomato-y side for my liking, a little to much vinegar and too little flavor (though I have never been a fan of Memphis style or KC sauces in general). The Kansas City style sauce was a bit sweet for my taste, though an adequate representative of the city's barbecue tradition. The Texas style sauce was well-spiced, though the true test would to be to add it to some beef brisket (which is on the menu). The Carolina mustard sauce was a pleasant surprise, with few establishments offering mustard based sauce as a choice. It was pleasantly tangy and my easily my favorite (though mustard/cider vinegar based sauces with a kick usually are). Overall, I found the selection of sauces a refreshing surprise. All were good sauces that attempted to (without actually delving into the local sauce debates that occur) recreate the general flavor and spirit of each type of barbecue sauce.

Presentation was what one might expect from a more urban and stylized establishment. More clean lines and white plates arrived with the pulled pork, which actually came on a rectangular white platter. The portion, which, with the two sides, only cost $9, was generous. It was nice and tender, and though most patrons would enjoy the seasoning and sauce already on the pork, I would have preferred the option of non-sauced pork (possibly kept in a pot of its natural juices and stock/flavorings) so that I could try it with each of the sauces without the interference of the sauce already there. Nevertheless, it was well-prepared and tasty, with nice smoked end bits throughout. The grits and potatoes were a surprise, as both tasted quite fresh and simple. The potatoes had a nice, clean garlic flavor that one won't find in the garlic potatoes in most chain establishments. Having grown up with a mother from the southern cooking tradition, I wasn't expecting too much from "Yankee" grits. They were, however, prepared well (something not easy to do in some cases): creamy and cheesy. Both sides worked well with the pork, as I assume other accompaniments, such as coleslaw and collard greens (also on the menu, along with Mac & cheese, corn on the cob, and baked beans) would.

The meal was filling and brought out in a timely manner. The flavors were unexpectedly clear and sharp, with a fashionable yet comfortable atmosphere.