Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Tryin' to be an Interweb Hobo

I love hobos. Hobos like to live off the grid. They leave their jobs, permanent addresses, and tax burdens so as to live off the land and their wits. They break their ties and forge ahead into a world unfettered by their conformist pasts.

I'd like to hobo-cize my Internet presence. At the tender age of 25, I've got profiles and postings and random accounts a-plenty. Too many to count, in fact, and it freaks me out that each of those profiles is out there saying something about me when I'm not watching. True, it's all stuff that I wrote (or my publicist, Courtney No Last Name), but I can't remember what or where it all is. And it doesn't go away, and I don't know who's seeing it. Frankly, I feel a little dirty knowing all that is out there. So, I'd like to go off the grid a little - remove the unwanted profiles, purge the Interweb indiscretions of my youth (myspace account, I'm thinking of you here). I'd feel better and I'm sure there'd be some carbon offsetting benefit somewhere in there.

So I tried to take step one today - delete MySpace account. Eliminate the most pervasive example of frivolous internet presence. Purge the wasted energy beast. Except you can't delete your account without responding to an email sent to your email address of record, which happens to be my old McDaniel College account. Do I know the password to that account? No. Do I know the address to check it? No. Does it even still exist? Probably, and it's likely filled with campus-wide announcements about poster sales and Karaoke happy hours. But none of that helps me and my mission.

So, the jagged claws of the internet have won this battle, but I will persevere. I will take the hill and win the war. I will google this problem into the Stone Age, and I will begin the journey to selective hobo-ocity.

Feel free to check my Facebook page for updates...

If you're interested in further hobo learnin', here are some fun definitions from

Hobo -
1. A hobo, unlike a bum or a tramp, is more than willing to work, but mostly for a short duration, as their main impetus is travel, the love of the journey above the actual destination. A bum is stationary, feeding off of those unfortunate enough to cross his path; a hobo merely travels from town to town, finding work when he can, but only for the sake of financing his next adventure. NEVER call a hobo a bum...they'll kick your sorry no-bo ass!
2. A free man/woman who is no longer trapped in the society of capitalism and time. He/she can go to sleep whenever he/she wants to, and do anything.
Hobos are good at recycling dumpstered food that huge coporations throws out.
3. nothin beats the hobo life stabbin folks with my hobo knife
4. Hobos are a peaceful people.Being homeless and pennyless, similar to MC Hammer. They go place to place taking money from people for doing odd jobs, whether it be pulling weeds, kiiling roaches, cleaning roach poop, or eating roaches.

They're like uh...drifters. Telling stories to whoever they can

Friday, June 13, 2008

Shout Out to My Girls of the Waxum class of Chi Delta Mu

I plainly remember watching television just out of the hope that this commercial would come on.

Thanks, Gap.

PS - Thanks to the "Related Searches" field of YouTube, I also found all the old Khaki Swing and Mellow Yellow Gap ads. I don't know whether it's the utterly neutral tones of the clothing or the cult-like group singalongs, but I love these ads.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Tengo que practicar mi espanol como whoa.

As my absence from the blog that bears my name may have indicated, I have been having a fantastic time in Buenos Aires. I´ve had the pleasure of exploring the city on my own and with my expert tour guide, Heather Kirkwood. Sadly, my visit to her adopted home will be driving her into the poorhouse, but I´m having a great time!

Like a good little smart kid, I took a week of classes at the Spanish school where HK works. During these 20 hours, I became a big mishmash of English, French, Italian, and Latin pronunciation blunders and good intentions. Regardless, my Spanish has improved dramatically and I am now able to communicate on the same level as your local 6th or 7th grader. Maybe a 6th or 7th grader who only attended the first month of class. I know my numbers, ok? Rome wasn´t built in a day, people.

I can´t really think of anything else to say in this little blogbit, so here´s a list of random observances about Buenos Aires:
- There is a lot of beef. Complementing all the beef, lots of leather. It´s a sad state of affairs for the cows of Argentina, but good news for the meat-eating fashionistas!
- BA is a lot like New York City, but all in Spanish. This gives it a romantic quality that I do not often experience while enduring the crowds of NYC. No me gusta los personas en les calles de Nueva York.
- There is a secret army of mosquitos that attacks me every night while I sleep. I am a mess of bites and scratches. Muy linda, to say the least.
- The elevator in my apartment building is a cool elevator from antquity with a grated door you close yourself. Strangely this is the only elevator in the world that does not give me anxiety every time I step into it. I hate elevators.
- Tango is pretty cool. Modern tango performed live in a converted garage in a back alley is even cooler.
- There are pockets of Juan Peron and Evita devotion all over the city, but nothing along the lines of royal worship that I found in Thailand. Maybe Madonna ruined it for everyone.
- To preserve Heather Kirkwood´s street cred, it is required that you stop speaking English to her as soon as you encounter another English speaker on the street. If your Spanish is not up to par, then you must just be quiet until the offensive tourist or expat leaves the immediate vicinity. Then you may continue with your story or question.
- The rainy season in Uruguay stared on May 19 this year, and I was there.

Before I leave the country on Tuesday, I have an evening at the boliche tonight (ie. I´ll return home sometime after dawn), a day of consumerism and recuperation tomorrow, and then a short trip to the waterfalls of Iguazu and the Brazilian border on Sunday and Monday. Even though all of my clothes are dirty, my back is killing me from my pillow-like bed, and I´m really looking foward to taking a long shower in my own bathroom, I´m sad to think about leaving Buenos Aires and my South American adventure so soon.

In closing, here´s a picture of an Ecuadorian cow from my hotel in Papallacta. He is quietly crying for the fate of his Argentine brother.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

An Encounter with the Ecuadorian DEA leaves Lizzie Musar feeling creative...

Hello everyone and greetings from the Tocumen International Airport in possibly lovely Panama City, Panama. Please note, this is not the Panama City, FL airport that a delightfully dim girl in DC thought she was flying to over a week ago when I started my South American adventure.

Since that painful 6:30 am departure from Dulles on May 4th, I have successfully:
1. Helped facilitate a very successful staff retreat.
2. Remembered why I love where I work and the people that I work with.
3. Found a bunch of new reasons to feel good about the future of conservation
4. Had a minor meltdown about my own future, but whatever, that happens all the time these days.
5. Had a kickin' massage from a tiny Ecuadorian lady who I later found dancing quite graphically to My Humps by the Black Eyed Peas.
6. Routinely had to stop and catch my breath after walking with a quickness or climbing any flight of stairs because living at an elevation of 11,000 feet actually does take its toll on you.
7. Hung out with coworkers in the thermal baths of our spa retreat center ( least 3 out of 6 nights that we were there.
8. Left Ecuador for stop #2 on the South American Adventure - Buenos Aires, Argentina!

Now, number 8 may not seem all that remarkable, given that I have a previously purchased ticket and was able to find my way back to the airport in Quito in time for my flight. Easy peasy japanesy, right?

Sadly, my departure from Quito was not the smooth sailing that I had so eagerly anticipated. Rather than quickly boarding the plane and popping in the iPod to watch "Evidence of Things Not Seen" for the 300th time, I was treated to a baggage check by the Ecuadorian drug authorities. I'm not sure if it was a random check or if there was something in my bag that set them off, but here's how the scene played out, with a little creative commentary that is sorely overdue to my friend, Courtney (last name withheld to protect her adult anonymity, even though I'm not saying anything bad about her here. Other than implying that she has a friend who is now a known target of the Ecuadorian Drug Enforcement Agency. Which I am. I have a record now. Cool.)

Scene: Int. Quito airport, gate A2 (I think there are five gates total, it's a real hopping airport to say the least.) Lizzie Musar is sitting at gate Skypeing with Heather Kirkwood and Katie Musar.

Loudspeaker: Spanish spanish spanish Musar spanish spanish spanish.
Musar internal: That's weird, I think they just called my name, too bad I don't speak Spanish worth a damn. Let me log off and check it out.
Musar approaches gate agent: Soy Elizabeth Musar.
Gate agent: No hablo ingles, senora.
Musar internal: That's funny, I was trying to speak Spanish. And don't call me "Senoria." Or Shirley. Hehe.
Other Gate agent: Que tal?
Musar: Soy Elizabeth Musar. Tu llama mi nombre?
Other Gate Agent: Si, la policia spanish spanish spanish spanish.
Musar: Que? No hablo espanol, lo siento.
OGA: Oh, the police need to talk to you. Go with this person.
Musar: Ok.
Musar internal: The police need to talk to me, that's strange. I haven't witnessed any crimes or found any missing wallets. I have all of my bags. Wonder what they want to talk about.
Musar follows OGA #2 outside of gate area, down stairwell, and into baggage sorting area below gate and next to plane.
Musar internal: It's hot out today. Hey, look at that yellow lab! Dog at the airport! Wait, dogs at the airport are drug sniffing dogs. HOLY CRAP, THEY THINK I HAVE DRUGS IN MY BAG!!!
Aaron Sorkin: Hey Lizzie, looks like you may be in a spot of trouble. Don't worry, I've been here before, it all works out ok.
Musar internal: Aaron Sorkin, what are you doing in my head? And what are you talking about, everything turns out alright? I seem to remember you were arrested and thrown in rehab when drugs were found in your luggage AND then went on to leave the best show ever made. Nothing worked out ok in that situation, nothing.
Sorkin: That's awfully dramatic of you, don't you think?
Musar internal: Shut up, Aaron Sorkin, my bag is about to be searched by that cute yellow lab. My dirty underwear is going to be strewn about downtown Quito on the afternoon breeze, I'm gonna go to jail like Claire Danes in Brokedown Palace, and I don't even have any drugs in my bag. I'm gonna be a cautionary tale.
Sorkin: Look, I'm just saying that you need to find happiness beyond West Wing. True, it was probably the greatest work of mine or anyone's life, but Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip wasn't ---
Musar internal: Shut up, Sorkin, they're talking about me and pointing!
Small Ecuadorian Man with Big Gun: Musar, Elizabeth?
Musar: Si, soy Elizabeth Musar, pero no hablo espanol.
SEMwBG: Did you check a bag?
Musar: Yes, that big gray one over there (points to bag in small pile of other presumably suspect bags).
SEMwBG: Is the bag here?
Musar: Yes, it's that gray one over there.
SEMwBG: Which bag is it?
Sorkin: This is starting to sound like I wrote it with all the repetition. God that's such an effective tool for entertainment.
Musar internal: I swear to God, I will beat within an inch of your ego-driven, imaginary life, Sorkin. I'm trying to concentrate here!
Musar: It's this one, sir.
SEMwBG: Please place it on this table and open it up.
Musar: No problem. (grunts at immense weight of bag, groans at thought of having to repack overly stuffed bag, opens hateful bag)
Sorkin: Now this is when you have to start distracting them. Talk about the weather. Ask about the dog. How do you feel about flashing him?
Musar internal: You really are some kind of idiot, Aaron Sorkin. Now shut up, the dog is coming over.
SEMwBG: Where are you from?
Musar: Washington, DC in the US.
SEMwBG: How long have you been in Ecuador?
Musar: 9 days, I was in Papallacta.
SEMwBG: In the mountains? It's very high up there, no?
Musar: Yes!! It is very high up there!
Musar internal: Good, now we're friends. Bonding over altitude. I probably shouldn't have just said "high" so enthusiastically.
Sorkin: Flash him, flash him!
Musar internal: What's wrong with you?
SEMwBG sniffs bag, rain coat, toiletry bag, notices three boxes of Kraft Mac and Cheese.
SEMwBG: What is this?
Musar internal: Crap, how do I explain Heather's need for Kraft Easy Mac without sounding like I've loaded the orange cheese powder packet with cocaine?
Musar: It's a gift for a friend in Argentina. She misses it.
Musar internal: That was incredibly stupid.
Sorkin: Yeah, way to open up the door to further inquisition there, sport.
Musar internal: Don't you have a show to sink somewhere??
Sorkin: Now you're just being mean.
SEMwBG: Argentina? You are going to the US.
Musar: No, I'm from the US, I'm going to Argentina for vacation.
SEMwBG: You didn't say that.
Musar: Oh, well, I am going to Argentina for two weeks before I return to the US.
SEMwBG: And what is this? (holds up kraft box)
Musar: It's macaroni and cheese. For my friend. There's peanut butter in there, too. Here let me show you. (reaches for bag to unearth jar of Jif from underneath pile of dirty bras.
SEMwBG: That's not necessary. You know I am searching for drugs, yes?
Musar: Yes, I figured.
Sorkin: This guy has no sense of subtlety.
Musar internal: I think he's a little more concerned with freaking me out right now. Also, the dudes with the big guns don't need subtlety. They have big guns.
Sorkin: Very true.
SEMwBG: (Sniffs some more stuff, pokes dirty underwear with a wooden stick) Ok, thank you, you may go now. Enjoy your vacation.
Musar: Thanks, here I'll help you rezip the bag, it's pretty full.
SEMwBG: Please go back to your gate, miss.
Musar: Ok, gracias. (walks back to gate with OGA#2)
Musar internal: I'm safe.
Sorkin: I'm fairly certain you couldn't have possibly handled that with any less finesse or poise, though maybe if you had urinated on yourself and run towards the tarmac, you would've proved me wrong.
Musar internal: Shut up, I hate you.

Monday, May 05, 2008

From my hotel in Quito

A haiku about 24 hours in Ecuador

The air is so thin
Hills make you winded, but the
City takes breath, too

I am in the historical center of Quito, the capital of Ecuador. The buildings are old, the mountains are rising in the background. It´s a beautiful introduction to the city.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

List of Things I'll Always Love

I'm trying to do this whole focus on the positive, so here you have it. This is my own personal version of Maria Von Trapp's "Favorite Things"...

1. When Rolf yells "Lieutenant!!" in the convent scene in the Sound of Music - rather, I always love to imitate it.
2. "The Real Slim Shady"- "And be proud to be outta your mind and outta control
and one more time, loud as you can, how does it go?" I don't know why.
3. When CJ tells the Cartographers for Social Justice that flipping the map upside down is freaking her out in Season Two of the West Wing.
4. String intros on great songs - best examples are Nightswimming by REM and No Peace Los Angeles by Mike Doughty
5. Sleeping in the sun
6. Theodore Roosevelt Island
7. My red Thai pants
8. Gummy fried eggs - even if I don't eat them anymore
9. Driving
10. Feeling like a good person because I'm taking the Metro to work instead of driving.
11. Parallel structure in lists and outlines
12. The sound of typing
13. Almost anything Timbaland does
14. Saying "donde," "aqui," y "ahora" completely out of linguistic context
15. The number 104