List of Lists

1. List of government encyclopedias of ethical failure
2. List of top 7 comedy podcasts
3. List of top 20 hurricane names starting with b
4. List of top 13 Italian apertifs
5. List of top 8 frozen french-fry brands
6. List of 32 vacation spots in the southern hemisphere
7. List of nonfatal hairspray accidents
8. List of Hollywood actors named Gene
9. List of international sports bureaucrats convicted of corruption
10. List of books read by President William Jefferson Clinton
11. List of ethical questions inspired by cricket matches
12. List of charities providing address labels more than biannually
13. List of lists of lists
14. List of sports websites
15. List of fictional dentists
16. List of incorrect horoscope predictions
17. List of chess puzzles solved by computers
18. List of future accounting conferences
19. List of yet-to-be-conceived artworks
20. List of French Elvis impersonators
21. List of Dilbert books
22. List of decisions made by Chicago police chiefs
23. List of decommissioned summer camps
24. List of hat manufacturers
25. List of broken mirrors
26. List of audio cues
27. List of deceased Malaysian film directors

Mr. Money Mustache review

After seeing a column about the Mr. Money Mustache site and its founder in the Washington Post, I've been reading through some of the posts on the site.

He's basically a guy who decided he wanted to retire at 30, then went out and did the damn thing. He and his wife saved the majority of their take-home pay, lived cheaply on what remained, and didn't get into debt. Presto, retirement at 30.

Conclusions:

-The rhetoric can be a little overheated. Here's a sample line: "After years of careful study, observations, and interviews with real car drivers, I have come to the conclusion that about 90% of the car use that occurs in the United States is Pure Bullshit." This might put me off if he didn't have something important to say

-The advice is generally good, based around the principle that you should avoid credit, save more than you spend, and invest in the stock market via low-fee index funds

-It's a little easier to retire at 30 when you're making 100k a year at a software job in your 20s, but I think the writer would counter that he's pushing a philosophy more than encouraging you to exactly replicate his example

-Box wine is a steal!

-It makes me want to save more and try to retire by 40 if I can (too late to try for 30)

-The site encourages an anti-consumerism mindset, which can't be a bad thing if it catches on. It encourages readers to be conscious of the financial choices they make and remember that habits can be costly.

Rough edges aside, the man has something to say. Is anyone listening?

Dearth of Pronouns

Saw your words on my computer screen, late at night, and was reminded. Why I came to this place and why it was a victory, in and of itself. Decided to strive more, be something of significance. For the sake of you and I.

They say california is a recipe for a black hole

I have been on a serious Rilo Kiley kick for at least a week. Blame it on cranberry sauce, which I was making last Wednesday, and it was lovely, had the house to myself all day and just listened to tons of music and cooked odds and ends of supplemental Thanksgiving foods. I love those days, maybe once a month. Silence and solitude and making something out of nothing. Insofar as there is stress in my life, these are the days when it is released, when you might say I channel and release tension from my shoulders into the food I make.

As for Rilo Kiley, they are everything. Sweet, cutting, country, rock, peerless lyrics, great music. Three Rilo Kiley songs:

Jenny, You're Barely Alive

My Slumbering Heart

Portions for Foxes

Winter trains part 2

Our train that was set to depart at 6:25 had not physically reached the station until 6:45. The people turning and sheepishly working back through the Lowell deluge after the official boarding announcement were Newburyport commuters with a scheduled theoretical departure of 6:45. What cheek to think they would leave the station within 10 minutes of on-schedule. Their delay was heard fading as I shuffled the platform with the horde, and it gave me a vague sense of justice served. The perverse mind of the frozen delayed commuter; his misery is actively seeking company, and he condemns those who aren't foundering with him yet.

Winter trains part 1

The coffee came to 1.07. I had the nickel at the ready, expecting 1.04, but the tax had gone up under Democrat control, and I fumbled with two pennies, hastily produced from some pocket.

The coffee's purchase was a thing definitely settled, and in my arrogance I thought it marked me out as a seasoned traveler, beater of chills. With hot liquid input and vigorous walking in the station, I could overcome the dual disadvantage of a pronounced lack of personal insulation and 15 minutes on the platform in sub 10-degree Ipswich already chilling the flesh. This is special cold that can't be rooted out by the heat in most train cars; it is the rare one that can play the role of microwave and re-heat humans who are starting from a refrigerated imbalance, it being hard enough to maintain the warmth of people who enter the cycle at a neutral level. I was unable to get rid of the cold in my feet, which felt like wet soldiers in draft canvas tents at Valley Forge.

The chill is an unwelcome houseguest, insisting on one more glass of wine after an awkward dinner, and then another glass, reveling in others' discomfort. After it is gone, the hollow remnant of its presence lingers. It can't be forced but by bluntness and boldness. Even this, though, requires appropriate conditions.

The coffee was hot and needed but I had rashly chosen the Dunkin Donuts medium over large at the same price from McDonald's. I was already cold again before the last sip. Sidling up to the rail employee in front of the service window, I wait for other harried commuters to ask longsufferingly about their trains, which are as a matter of course delayed so long they aren't worth asking about (assume twenty-five minutes off the top). Trying to play the cool customer, seen-it-all-before commuter rail veteran of a dozen cold Januaries. I smile nonchalantly as I mosey over with my inquiry queued up in the brain-catapult, but stumbling on the destination (usually Haverhill, now Lowell) I ask the question and get the answer everyone else is stuck with; a 5 or 10 minute delay in theory stretches out to around 30 in the real world.

What I'd like to do

I'd like to, in 2011:

-Meet some interesting people.
-Write on this blog.
-Improve this blog.
-Get a new, better job.
-Read more.
-Forgive and reconcile.
-Improve correspondence.
-Maintain and work on existing relationships.
-Finish at least one short story.
-Watch old movies.
-Maintain physical fitness.
-Spend less time being afraid.
-Make a positive difference.
-Save money.
-Be with A as much as possible.

[Please excuse the hackneyed conceit of this post; it's mostly for posterity]
[This concludes 2010, in which this blog posted 10 times per month, every month. Check the archive]

Then 'tis like the breath of an unfed lawyer. You gave me nothing for't

If I did not pursue this, I would regret it always. This means there are no options. Varying tempos, and crescendos, and changing rhythms, yes, but the course is plotted. There is no going back from here. I won't be a fisherman telling stories about the big one that got away.

I will not brook regrets. I will not carry them with me.

I love those conversations where you get turned on to the limitless possibilities that lie ahead. They keep happening now, with all sorts of different people. They spark me. I could do anything. Anything!

I'm plastic.

You just have to make sure you're not overwhelmed by the possibilities. Sometimes I have to ask her to give me three choices, and then I can pick. Me knowing that I won't be offending anyone, and relieved of the burden of winnowing, that is the efficient me.

Something Against You

So pub crawls are stupid, I just decided.

My lentils are refusing to cook easily.

The rain was welcome, but came down so hard that I was forced to close all the windows.

Bret Easton Ellis's second novel was much better than his first; also his second name is much more pretentious than his first and last names.

Amanda was sorely missed this week at the office.

We made the mistake of assuming there would only be one Market Basket in Wilmington; there were two in close proximity.

A luggage store would not have been my first choice to fill the vacant retail space.

The mustard contained VINEGAR, MUSTARD SEED, SALT, SPICES AND TURMERIC.

The purchase of spray starch was inspired by A.M. Homes.

Eyes on a sweet potato look alien and unfriendly.

Any whiff of cool air is welcome, whatever the source.

Müller looked 35 at 20 and scored 5 in '10.

.ﬡ

I won't wait

Day of signifiance:

bought new sheets
cleaned the floors
watched two world cup games
cooked some rice
rode my bike to grocery store
got to bed on time

the upshot here is that I did go outside and I did shower. So the day wasn't a total loss. It was the most useful Sunday I've had in some time. I think Waylon Jennings/Johnny Cash were right; there's something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone. Kept busy on this one, though and did labor whose fruits I can enjoy for the rest of the week, so I really can't complain.