ACC vs. Ivy League

This will be a short post, as it is late and I have copious amounts of work (that I am deftly avoiding completing). While looking at one of my new favorite websites (www.notpennstate.com), I noticed this t-shirt, which is strikingly familiar to an ACC equivalent shirt. Let me know what you think.

SEPTA Guide Rule #184

After another day enjoying public transit, I have yet another rule to add to the Guide (I use the capital "G" to give it more legitimacy to myself. Bear with me).

RULE #184: Not All Train Passengers Are Created Equal
I do not mean to speak disparagingly of my fellow Regional Rail Riders. But frankly, some folks are weird. You must keep an eye out for the particular characters.

The Chatty Folk: I'm not sure where they go when they get off the train, but it can't be anywhere where they receive adequate human contact. They will tell you their life story in agonizing detail. Be prepared to get off a stop early. It may be well worth it.

"Music Is My Life" People: These kind souls have decided that it is their duty to share their musical preferences (and their iTunes purchases) with you. A personal music device is simply too elitist --- music must be played at a volume such that it can be shared with the community at large, namely those people who are trying to quietly read. You will spend at least 20 minutes trying to identify the thumping beat that you vaguely recognize from the radio (Pussycat Dolls? Bon Jovi? Prince? Is Prince still alive??) Consider yourself lucky if you aren't in the same train as the 80's guy.

Anxious Riders: Xanax does a body good. These folks are so anxious about the ride to their final destination that they are constantly bouncing between seats, checking with the train staff, and looking anxiously out the window to make sure the announcers weren't playing a nasty trick when saying what stop we were heading to ("Muahaha, I told you we were at Wynmoor, but we're really at Mt. Airy! Muahahahaha!").

"Can You Hear Me Now?": Something as minor as a train ride will not separate them from their cellular conversations. Unlike the rest of us who hiss in humiliation after our "Lone Ranger Theme" cell ring disturbs the entire train, "I'll call you back! I'm on the train!",these people insist on having a full-fledged conversation. And just in case coverage isn't that great, the make sure that they talk loudly enough that in case the person on the other end of the line is in, say, Jersey, they will still be able to hear perfectly well.

Non-People People: Clearly didn't excel in the "Plays well with others" category of elementary school. Their bags are sprawled across the three person seats, and the stare down any newcomers to the train. The implicit message -- "This is my seat. I may look like a balding 50-something-year-old man who really enjoys reruns of Get Smart, but if you sit with me, I will fuck your shit up."

And then there's the rest of us. Happy riding, everyone! :-)

A Newcomer's Guide to SEPTA

A major problem in any urban area is going to be traffic congestion. After living in Baltimore for three years, I have learned to anticipate and, at times, almost appreciate the whims of the beltway and JFX traffic. But moving to a new metropolitan area, getting around was giving me (almost) as much angst as the lovely souls over at the Penn Student Financial Services office (*incomprehensible mutterings*).

Then, a breath of fresh air -- SEPTA! Yes, the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority to the rescue. And, unlike the Baltimore public transit system, SEPTA seems to: 1) be efficient, 2) be safe, and 3) actually go places that you'd want to be. Novel concept!

What I hope to do is create a type of guide (in the loosest sense of the term) to using SEPTA for those who, like me, are relatively new to the whole public transit system. The rules are numbered, but, because I am writing them as I come up with them, are therefore in no particular order. Because numbering sequentially implies some sort of ranking of importance, I am going to refrain from that practice and simply make numbers up as I go along. Can you tell that I'm going to be a teacher?

Rule #47: Learn to Forget Geographic Directions
I'm amazed anyone in Philadelphia knows North-South-East-West. You will rarely get on a train, subway, or bus and find that it is simply going east, north, or even southeast. It's going to some obscure (at least to me) destination that no one really ever wants to go to anyway. So I have to spend a good 10 minutes staring at a map (hello, not from here!) trying to first figure out where the hell I am and then where the hell I'm going. Once that is figured out, getting on the proper transportation mode is often a matter of luck. Thank god for my transpass, where I can get on and off the bus as much as necessary while I figure out what the hell I'm doing.

Rule #84: Station Names Have Little to Do With Their Location

Example: Suburban Station. Name connotes location with grass, trees, etc. Real location? Middle of the freakin' city.

Example: Market East - Gallery. Actually a transfer point for other transit lines. But the other lines don't call it that, they call it 15th Street. So I miss it every time. Bastards.

Give me landmarks, intersections, something! My brain already hurts with this....

More to come later!

Kitty Litter.....

Why you ask? I'll tell you. My husband is allergic to my cat, more specifically, to his dander. Anyone who has owned a cat will tell you that the second leading source of dander after, well, the cat itself, it the litter box. So as we consider Ted's big move to Silver Spring, Maryland this week, we wonder -- how will we contain the kitty dander (and the accompanying kitty s$*t) in the best manner in the confined space that is a D.C. apartment?

Many options come to mind. My personal favorite is the Litter Robot, a combination of a rolling-cleaning litter box and a Roomba. Theoretically, it will use lasers (!!!) to sense when your cat has used the litter, and after he departs, will shift upside down, sucking the kitty waste into a designated container. And for a mere $300, you too can have a robot clean up your cat's poop!

Since I'm doing that whole student poverty thing down to a whole new level, I may have to go with a cheaper option. At which point you can go with the Booda Clean Step Litter Box. This one appeals to me for two very base reasons: 1) The stairs. My cat can be a diva. 2) The colors. What cat wouldn't want to crap when surrounded by "Ruby Red"?

If you have any suggestions for this ongoing debate, please enlighten me. Frankly, I know whatever I purchase will end up in a corner, uncleaned, with my cat taking a dump six inches away just to spite me. Little bastard.

Summer Session -- Trial by Fire

I have survived my first week and a half at an Ivy League institution -- barely. The program is a firm believer in "trial by fire" -- or more appropriately, trial by reading. Lots of it. 150 pages or more each night. So while I do get to enjoy two days each week with classes starting at 1 p.m. (JOY! SLEEPING IN!), I toil into the wee hours that I haven't seen on a weeknight since second year of undergrad. So why am I spending my valuable writing time posting on my blog? Simply put, it beats reading.

Another finger of the fire is our field work at Nonprofit Techonogy Resources. Working with these six student interns is, simply put, amazing. They have skills I couldn't imagine. I hope that I can contribute something to their lives in the short time that I am here.