I chose Ugly Tuna for our mini-reunion because a cursory glance at the menu seemed to suggest that there would be something there for everyone. Which is true, but the overall experience was decidedly underwhelming.
There was no hostess when we arrived, so we seated ourselves and waited a few minutes for a server to notice us and bring us three menus for five people. (She said she couldn't find any more.) Our group ordered a sirloin burger, a cheeseburger, the spicy shrimp special with a side of onion rings, crab-stuffed shrimp, and garden salad with shrimp.
The only reason I didn't object to paying almost $10 for this was because they were admittedly generous with the amount of shrimp on the salad. The promised onions and shredded carrot did not materialize, so it was just romaine lettuce, tomato, and cucumber. (When I asked them to hold the croutons and cheese, I didn't want them to hold everything.) The shrimp was cooked with a soy marinade, which is fine but really similar to the salmon I made for myself last night, but that's just an unfortunate coincidence. My friend requested no sauce on her cheeseburger, but the burger came with a sauced bun and no cheese initially.
The service was subpar and the food lackluster. I should have suggested Aladdin's like I'd initially wanted to.
Sunrise, sunset,
Sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears.
(Fiddler on the Roof
I met up with four high school friends for dinner at Ugly Tuna Saloona. (Restaurant review to follow.) These meetings are always interesting because usually some six months elapse between them where there is only patchy contact at best. There usually isn't time to truly go deeply into each other's lives and conversation is devoted to reminiscing or catching up at a mostly superficial level. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I've come to realize that my high school friendships weren't quite as deep as I'd maybe imagined, which is, I stress, probably natural, since we were all less emotionally mature anyway.
We talked about whether there would be a five-year high school reunion for our class and whether we would attend if there were. Truth is, most people haven't changed much since high school (some will not even have graduated college yet). But on the other hand, one of the girls from this evening is now married and moving to North Carolina with her husband in a week. Another friend who couldn't make it tonight is engaged, which is probably the case for many more classmates, and it might be worth seeing everyone just to keep tabs on everyone's life status. Honestly, though, the people I actually care about I already keep in touch with without the benefit of any planned class reunion, which would probably only serve to assuage any of my passing curiosity. And Facebook does a pretty decent job of that anyway.
I wonder when class reunions actually start to get interesting?
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, YOU ARE ON "CONDITIONAL STATUS" FOR AUTUMN QUARTER 2008.
[...]
If you are on Conditional Status because you are within 36 credit hours of your maximum time frame, you will remain on Conditional Status until you reach your maximum time frame, at which point your aid eligibility will be cancelled and you will not be eligible for aid for subsequent quarters of enrollment.
After a few unvoiced profanities, I clicked through to the Student Financial Aid website and found out that because I have 268 credit hours, I am close to the maximum 300 hours beyond which I would become ineligible for financial aid. This is a measure intended to prevent students from taking classes indefinitely without graduating, which I understand. Only problem: 100 of my credit hours are from examination credit, and none of them count for either of my two majors. One of my majors also contains at least 40 hours of prerequisites that do not actually count towards graduation. My scholarships were awarded for twelve quarters; I have been enrolled all of nine quarters, so there is no reason to take them away.
I love how my efforts at making the most of my education by taking 15-20 hours per quarter, earning two degrees, and satisfying all the content requirements for teacher licensure before graduation, are rewarded by the threat to take my rightfully earned scholarships away. I also like how the $5000 scholarship I won was not actually awarded to me but deducted from my awards for the other quarters because I am already receiving the maximum amount of aid per year. It's not that I particularly want or need the extra money, but I do wish I had been told that I could not receive any additional money; I might have put the credit towards summer tuition instead. I might have just let it go, but I just wish I had been better informed.
So OSU's chances of getting an alumni donation from me just decreased by half.
Well, hate is a bit of a strong word. But this week I seem to be constantly disgusted by the neighborhood I live in. I know it could be much worse and that I'm privileged to be able to afford an apartment near campus, but I am really getting sick of it. I am sick of being hit on at the bus stop. I am sick of seeing shoes with drug money strung over the utility lines. I am sick of knowing there are three sex offenders within two blocks of me. I am sick of loud music and louder wahoos in my apartment complex weekend nights. I am sick of seeing TRASH strewn around everywhere I walk. (I am also sick of supporting my roommates' cable habits, but don't tell anyone.)
On the other hand, I'm very heartened to see several more Priuses and other hybrid cars rolling around campus. Some bright spot at least...
I meant to put this up last week, but got distracted by life in general. In the course of my volunteer activities, I find myself traveling up and down High Street a great deal, which inevitably means running into panhandlers. In this respect, OSU is no different from any other urban setting, so there is no especial danger here.
On Thursday I was walking over to the IFI office on Chittenden and Summit when I was approached outside Barnes and Noble by a man wearing a slightly shabby but still decent suit. He asked for my help and told me that he had locked his keys in his car. I offered to call AAA for him on my phone, according to the first rule of dealing with panhandlers: if you do want to help, offer a good or service, not cash. He told me he didn't have AAA, so I asked if he had any friends or family in town who could come pick him up or who might have a spare key. He then claimed to be visiting from Virginia, where he grew up on a chicken farm. At this point my fraud antenna went up, since most people who are honestly stranded won't bother to tell you some childhood sob story (rule number 2). He said he'd called the police department but they were unable to unlock his car due to liability issues. (Not sure if this is true or not.) A locksmith would charge forty dollars to open the car, and he only had twenty-five. At this point my fraud alarm went off, since he was asking for money point-blank (rule number 3). Then a Barnes and Noble employee came outside and told me, "Go on your way, ma'am, this guy's a professional." I had gathered as much anyway, so I continued on to the office.
I try to be a compassionate person, but it's also important to be safe and responsible. Never give a panhandler cash because you never know what he will use it for. On one occasion I bought a guy McDonald's, gave him money for bus fare, and watched him get on the COTA bus. I don't know where he went after that, but I know that he got some food and where the money I gave him was spent. And this was in broad daylight right on High Street with lots of people around; I wouldn't suggest stopping for anything at night or if you're alone.
From the Columbus Dispatch: Under current law, begging is prohibited within 20 feet of a bank or ATM and at bus stops. A new proposal would increase the bank and ATM distance to 25 feet, and also prohibit panhandling near parking meters, parking lots, pay phones and within 20 feet of a sidewalk cafe.
I just spent the last week in Canada; 3 days in Toronto and 3 in Montreal, spending the last night in Syracuse, NY en route to visit Corning, original home of the Owens-Corning company. Toronto is an extremely diverse city, basically the New York City of Canada. Montreal is a little more like, say, Canada's version of Boston, if Boston were French. If it weren't for the -30 degrees C winters, I would move to Canada for its recycling bins and public transportation alone.
We stopped at Niagara Falls on our way north and I tried to set myself up for a digital version of double (or in this case quadruple) exposure. Unfortunately my mom does not quite understand the concept of "Don't move the camera AT ALL" so it didn't work exactly the way I would have liked, but that's nothing the magic of Photoshop can't fix!
Red, White, and Boom is purportedly the largest fireworks display in the Midwest, which is a slightly dubious claim given that fireworks aren't even allowed to be sold in Ohio, but what the heck. It's a really good show and worth trekking downtown to see. I would not suggest driving because you will end up in so much traffic you will start playing "Jingle Bells" on your car horn with the other drivers. (True story, we heard them while walking back along Neil Avenue.) It is an easy walk (about 45 minutes one way) from campus, just go straight down Neil Avenue until it dead-ends at the Scioto River. Red, White, and Boom always takes place on July 3 so as not to interfere with community celebrations on the 4th.
I was crossing the Oval today and I saw a guy who appeared to be walking on a tightrope strung between two trees. Unable to contain my curiosity, I approached him and said, "Do you mind if I ask what you're doing?" His response: "Would you like to try it?" Oops.
Unfortunately I did not videotape my rather sorry first attempt at slacklining. I did manage to stand up but promptly fell over when I tried to take a step. He was very nice about it and explained that many rock climbers pick it up as something to do in places where there aren't any mountains around (central Ohio comes to mind). I'd seen groups of people slacklining on the Oval before but had no idea what kind of crazy tricks they can actually do.
