Day 32: A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Words... On Missing Opportunities

Today is supposed to be the day where I depict a well-known cliche with just a photo along with a caption clue. But it's my blog and I'm doing something a bit different to depict this cliche.


This photo is of a sign at the Crystal Lake Metra station - the one I rode for more than a month while I was staying with my Uncle Bill and Aunt Debbie before getting my own apartment in Arlington Heights. This same sign was mounted in all the waiting areas alongside the track, but the one I generally wound up in passing the time before the train got there was one where this sign was vandalized.


Let me be clear that I'm not a fan of hoodlums defacing public property, especially when it's just some black spray paint splashed across a stop sign or something, but sometimes vandalism is clever, quite funny, or just plain beautiful.


This was the case of vandalism striking me as funny. Someone had scratched out the "N" in "NOT SMOKING" and written a "P" so the sign became "THANK YOU FOR POT SMOKING" right above the words "THESE PREMISES ARE ELECTRONICALLY MONITORED."


I saw this sign every day for a month and every day I vowed to snap a photo, but just never got around to doing it. I either didn't want to take it with my cell phone camera, forgot, or was at the station in the nick of time to catch the train.

I was planning on crafting something clever along the lines of kids using their creativity in the wrong places or the threat of electronic monitoring apparently doing not much at all. However, I went to the station on a Saturday while running errands armed with my camera, went into my usual station and saw this brand-new, un-defaced sign. Thinking I went into the wrong waiting station, I went to the two on either side of this station and saw the same thing - a brand-new sign.

In the grand scheme of life, not snapping a photo of a graffitied sign before it's replaced is a trivial thing. But it's also a good lesson that I should live life by this cliche.

Last week's cliche: It's raining (cats and) dogs.

Day 31: Stop. Focus. Click... On The Moments Where Nothing Else Matters

Three words for three little girls I'm head over heels in love with:

Adorable. Exhausting. Bliss.



Allison Spencer

 

Mackenzie Grace





Katelyn Ruth



Day 30: Remember the Time... I Am Not A Dude?

I always hated my name growing up. (For the record, I love it now that I'm an adult.) Besides the fact that it's spelled with a "k" instead of the more common "c" - forever keeping me from finding personalized key chains or magnets inscribed with the correct spelling of my name - there's no natural nickname. My brother Calvin goes by Cal, my sister Brittany's known by Britt and me - I've always been plain 'ol Erika.


Shortening my name naturally would spell Erik and I was watching a TV show once where the character named Erika went by Rikki. However, when adding either of those names to my middle and former last names of Jo and Ray would lead anyone to believe I was a dude. So up until about eighth grade, I just went by Erika.


That was the year the boys in my class decided to form a club called the "Yo Yogi Club" (don't ask me why 'cause I have no idea). As part of this club, they gave each other nicknames that essentially were the letters TR in front of their regular names plus or minus a letter or two for ease of pronunciation (again, no idea why). So Brian became Trin and Ray became Tray, etc.


The boys then began spreading the nickname formula to the girls in the class. Since Trerika was a mouthful, they somehow shortened it to Trigga and the name stuck with a few of my family members. Brittany and my cousin Gillian rarely refer to me as "Erika" and instead have taken to calling me "Trig."


Eh, it may not be a natural nickname, but it IS a nickname nonetheless. And since it's stuck around for all these years, it seems to fit.

Day 29: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Items at the Dollar Store Would Actually Cost $1

I personally don't mind having loose change in my pocket or wallet. It's convenient at the store when the total comes to a few cents over the nearest dollar, at turnpike tolls or when the vending machine calls my name at work.

However, it's a huge pain when facing any of those situations and not having any change, which leads to a heavier wallet, longer lines for the live toll booth person on the turnpike, and a quest to find which of my colleagues has change for the useless crumpled dollar that the vending machine doesn't take (which, by the way, would never happen in Lichtenstein because vending machines would be far smarter and accept all bills, regardless of the age or crumpled-ness, and would give correct change.)

Plus, I know it seems like an item is cheaper if it's priced at $0.99 or $29,999 (you're not kidding me - I know that really means $1.00 and $30,000) but it seems like a cheap (pun intended) way to make merchandise seem more attractive. If the item is worth buying, those subconscious thoughts that the item is less expensive than it truly is shouldn't be the deciding factor. Plus, when you factor in tax, the item is actually more expensive than advertised.

Therefore, everything in Lichtenstein would cost an even dollar amount - with a low tax included. If you see something on the shelf for $15, you'll end up paying $15. No worries that you won't have enough money after tax or correct change. Plus, that would deter bums from coming into Lichtenstein, as there would be no change to beg for.

Day 28: What Did Batman Say To Robin About Breaking All The Rules When They Get Together

Holy breaking all the rules Batman!

Although yes, it is a cliche, today's topic has to do with rules that are made to be broken. You know - the arbitrary "rules" governing kids not leaving the table until they've cleared their plates, a teenager's curfew, and sick days at work.

If rules are made to be broken, my partner in crime asks: What are the exceptions to the following rules?

Never talk to strangers... unless talking to them about whatever it is they're promoting lands you a cool T-shirt or free samples of food.

Don't run with scissors... unless they're the dull, rounded-edge plastic ones found in kindergarten classrooms that can't cut paper much less break through skin. The paper is actually more deadly.

Look both ways before crossing the street... unless you live in New York City in which case no one looks anywhere even though there are cab drivers barreling down the streets, weaving in and out of traffic at 97 miles an hour.

No running near the pool... unless you want to get wet and/or slip and fall right in front of that hot chick in a bikini you've been eyeing.

Do not enter. This is especially true if you're near the tiger or bear exhibit at the zoo. But the exception is if it leads somewhere cool like backstage at a concert or into another theater at the movies.

Don't go swimming right after you eat... unless you want to puke in the vicinity of that same bikini girl, fully ensuring that you have absolutely no chance with her, and making all other swimmers screech "ewwwww" while paddling away from you as fast as they would had they seen a turd on the bottom of the pool.

What goes up, must come down. Yes, whenever a pigeon flies up, poop rains down. There are no exceptions - especially when you're rushing to a job interview.

My partner in crime's response: While all of these are fine instances on when to break these rules, I may have a few more exceptions:

Never Talk To Strangers – unless you want to meet anyone ever. How in the world are we supposed to make friends?!?

Don’t Run With Scissors – unless someone has broken into your house. Then, by all means, run with scissors... towards the intruder... and even throw them at him if you so desire.

Look Both Ways Before Crossing The Street – unless you’re cross-eyed and can see both directions anyway and/or have phenomenal peripheral vision. Also unless you're blind. If you're blind, though, you're not really looking anywhere.

No Running Near The Pool – unless you have diarrhea...and just ate a taco. Then please, please run.

Do Not Enter – unless you are escaping from above intruder because you have just thrown your only weapon at him and missed. They by all means, enter. Enter now.

What Goes Up, Must Come Down – one word: Clouds. Two more words. Charlie Sheen.

 

So what did Batman say to Robin about breaking all the rules? That rule-breaking apparently often includes feces in some way or another.

Day 27: Never Have I Ever... Appreciated Overcoming A Childhood Fear

I was 5 years old and uncontrollably bawling. I didn’t know it then, but this was to be one of those scarred-for-life moments. At the time, I just couldn’t understand why the blue-jean-overalls-wearing roller coaster operator didn’t notice that I was crying and stop the kiddie ride from going around in a circle yet a fourth time. As the ride dipped and rose, I kept wishing it was my mom’s arm around me, and not my little brother, four or five cars ahead of me.

Just before I graduated the eighth grade, my class took a one-last-grade-school-hurrah field trip to Cedar Point – America’s Roller Coast (and that it is). I waited in the longer-than-a-lifespan lines with my friends, walked toward each coaster’s cars, and then kept going right on through so that when the ride was over, I’d be on the other side to join my friends as they disembarked from the steel thrillers. I was simply terrified of roller coasters from my childhood traumatic experience, and was not about to repeat it on America’s fastest or tallest or even pitiful-excuse-for-a-thrill-ride roller coaster.

I probably went a handful of times between that eighth-grade trip and a trip I took my junior year of high school with my friends Erin, Jessica, and then-boyfriend Jimmy. I had been doing my typical go-to-Cedar-Point-for-the-line-waiting routine until we got in line for the then-newest roller coaster – Millennium Force – which at the time was the world’s tallest and fastest roller coaster. It was then that Jimmy informed me that I’d be riding this ride.

Erin, Jessica, and I at Cedar Point junior year of high school.

“Yeah. Right,” I said, to his resistance of my dismissive attitude.

“You’re going and you’ll like it. I promise,” he said, making my stomach do flip-flops, and not so much in the good way, but the I’m-going-to-throw-up-and-I’m-not-even-on-the-coaster way. I’ve definitely grown out of having men walk all over me, but at the time I felt this unreasonable urge to please my boyfriends – very much to a fault.

So I begrudgingly got on the ride, somehow snapped the belt buckle with shaking hands, pulled the puny padded restraint to my waist, and immediately wished I hadn’t been so agreeable.

The coast to the top took hours (it actually does take an exceptionally long time to reach the top of that first hill) and although that first drop was terrifying (it’s so steep the track actually disappears for a few seconds), I hesitantly found myself getting caught up in the fun and excitement of Jimmy’s yelling “yeah… YEAH!” in my ear.

And after the ride was over, I found that the fear made it all the more thrilling and yeah… it was fun. Never have I ever appreciated someone forcibly coercing me to do something  before or since, and I can say that this breakthrough of overcoming my childhood fear was one of the only good things that came out of this particular relationship.

This moment ended up paving the way for two of my favorite assignments while a staff writer at The Blade newspaper: coverage of Cedar Point’s new rides Maverick and Skyhawk. (Ignore how terrified I look in both photos. I swear it was fun!) It’s also led to much more fun times at Cedar Point – where the only time I’m on the other side of a roller coaster’s line is after I’ve had a blast riding it.

Day 26: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Unpredictability

Free verse is a form of poetry that refrains from any consistent pattern. The topic can be about anything, and it can look and sound however the writer envisions.

When I write poetry, it's typically when I'm upset and need to vent. Therefore, I typically write free verse poetry because I don't want to be held back by form or rhyme. Although I like trying other forms of poetry, free verse is my favorite.


Predictably unpredictable

My emotions,
my mind,
my life.
A chaotic jungle of disarray
with no relief,
even in my dreams
that are frequently nightmares.
Without my permission
or even my control
Unpredictable emotions
are my predictable self.