bowling

Rolling thunder, spontaneous crashing, a heavy fog of smoke... and have you ever noticed that it is impossible to feel like you are in any other decade but the 80s when you go bowling? It's not just because of the unimaginably old and colored carpet with stars on it or the dinosaurs of televisions hanging above each lane--there are still the cliched bowling leagues where the people still have mullets, the shirts are still tucked in to whitewashed jeans, and the alcohol flows between frames.

there is no such thing as a modern bowling alley. and that's part of what makes the bowling experience so great.

This week I went bowling for the first time since the summer before freshman year of college. Long time. Very long time. My first two games sucked horribly, and to be honest, I wasn't the happiest camper. I'm not a big fan of not being good at something (competitive much?), and I'm definitely not a fan of having a first-generation color TV tell me I'm not good at something. I think color TV might be stretching it... is there such thing as a blue-and-white TV?

The third game made up for my frustrating scores of 63 and 54... I bowled 5 strikes in a row. My competitive tendencies want to brag. But I will leave it at that.

The lane next to us was occupied by a couple of parents who brought four children to bowl. Have you ever watched children bowl? Generally speaking, there are three techniques children employ when bowling.

#1) The Demolisher: This is the kid who, despite the disproportion between the mass of child and that of the bowling ball, manages to run full speed and launch the ball in the direction of the pins--the child remains fixated on the ball (however slow it may be travelling), and awaits the glorious moment of impact the the child thrives on.

#2) The Hit and Run-er: This is the kid that approaches timidly, drops the ball at their feet (with hardly any forward momentum) and then runs away to hide behind mommy, not even interested in the end result. For them, the fun is in carrying a heavy object and then releasing it--who cares about knocking pins over.

#3) The Second-Thinker: Upon releasing the bowling ball, the child regrets the decision and chases the ball down the lane, learning the painful lesson of traction-less bowling lanes. This is usually a brief phase, and the kid will generally resort to one of the first two techniques mentioned after learning the startling lesson of traction (or lack thereof).

Adults approach bowling much differently. I will only go into one type, though. This is the type that believes there is still some shred of control over the bowling ball after release and display such belief through leaning left, kicking their leg out right, turning the head, crouching down, waving the hands... yes, somehow leaning to the left will make the ball go left.

It's rather ridiculous, yet a lot of people (including myself) do this. Absurd, really. I control the release with a specific target in mind, dislike the path the ball is taking, and then flail my body about as if I can somehow control it and change the course.

on the list

I went to open the door. It was locked. I waited for the lady standing on the other side of the door to open it.

She opened the door and looked at me, waiting for me to identify myself.

"I'm with Grand Rapids Magazine."

She looked down at her clipboard. Looked up. "And your name?"

"Cristina Stavro."

She looked down at her clipboard and then smiled as she highlighted my name, "Welcome Ms. Stavro." And with that, she led me through a second set of locked doors where I found myself in the company of three cameramen from local TV stations (and their respective anchorwomen), a reporter and photographer from Grand Rapids Press, and a handful of other people pulling together this Press Junket.

A large sign reading "Welcome Media!" stood next to a table where I was asked to pick up my badge. It was my Front of the House Press Pass, and my name was on it.

Matt Giraud, a singer who placed fifth on American Idol last season, was performing a concert later that night but was holding a Press Junket at 2:30 first. He's somewhat of a local guy (from Kalamazoo--hour away).

To be honest, I know nothing about American Idol... I've even stopped watching those first episodes you watch just to see the sucky people. What season are they on anyway... tenth? Twelfth? Anyway, never heard of this guy, but I still felt like this was a big deal.

And it was.

So he performed two songs for just the press, and then we all had time to sit with Matt and interview him.

I was pretty nervous for the interview. The three TV stations and the GR Press went before me, so I got to watch and listen in on what their interviews were like.

Something that caught my attention was the technology present at this junket. There were photographers and camera guys using their ipods to record snippets of the performance and interviews... snippets that would go on TV. There were the usual large video cameras, but I just couldn't get over this one guy using his ipod for one of the stations.

The interview went well, and this Matt guy was really nice, so that made it a bit easier.

I loved being on that list. It was sweet. And it was even cooler to have a badge and be able to say, "I'm so and so with blah blah blah." Cool stuff.

http://www.fox17online.com/news/

go here, scroll down to the video of the guy on the piano (its really big). watch it. i was right next to them when they were interviewing, and the shots of him playing for the piano in the jacket was his performance for us.

i personally thought they would edit out that lipstick part... but i guess they didn't.

small request

ever have the need to feel really small?

feeling surrounded in a really big hug, craning your neck at the foot of a mountain, experiencing the vertigo at the edge of a cliff, standing in a crowd of people you don't know in a place you've never been...

they are humbling moments, and i don't think they happen enough.

adventures outside the cubicle

the phone rang. it was the first time ever. i let it ring again. "operator" appeared on the phone screen. i picked it up mid third ring.

"this is cristina."

according to the voice on the other end, i had an audria on the line for me.

that's when it hit me. what do i say to that? what do i say to the operator? Do I say, "okay," or, "patch her through," or, "that's nice."

so I said "ya."

my phone rang a second time that day. this time i responded to the operator with a simple, "thank you."

I'm a seasoned pro at the telephone at work now. I've made plenty of outgoing phonecalls.

* * *

The same day of my first incoming calls, I made 4 ventures: 2 to the water cooler and 2 to the vending machine.

The water cooler was no problem--i had my cup, filled it up, walked back to my desk, and downed it.

Vending machine. That was a whole other beast. I was very self conscious about getting some good ol' fashioned candy out of the vending machine. I felt it would age me--oh look at her, she's just a young intern, her and her vending machine m&ms.

once the courage was mustered up, i quietly walked the 20 or so paces to the vending machine.

the dollar went in. then it was spit out. i jumped at how noisy the rejection was. i tried again. failed again. try. fail. the sound of the repeated fails at the vending machine was attracting to much attention so i hastily grabbed the dollar and shamefully walked back to my desk.

20 minutes later, the same exact thing happened.

interesting interim

back in GR and it's been a delight.

I had the house to myself when I got back, but couldn't handle being here alone at night--so I drove to Ohio and spent a couple of days with the roomie. I went skiing for the first time in forever, and it was AWESOME. I'm kind of in love with it. For those in California, skiing in the midwest may be a strange concept. After all, it is fairly flat out here, is it not? Well you know those stone quarries or refineries or whatever some of those things are that you can see off the freeways sometimes? Imagine those covered in snow, lined with a few ski lifts, and peppered with a couple hundred people. Not having grown up skiing in mountains like Mammoth or Mountain High, I don't really care. I rather enjoy the midwestern slopes.

I got the hang of it pretty fast... I ate it in the first 10 feet of my first run but skied successfully (not necessarily gracefully) the rest of the time. Apparently I stick my butt out when I ski, but it's something I can work on. Lindsey is little miss ski bunny. And her brother does tricks. They are my ski heroes.

. . .

The reason I say "interesting interim" is because I have found myself in somewhat of a different class than I thought I would be in. Children's literature--never had a desire to write it or pursue a career in, but I'll be studying it for the next three weeks. It should be interesting, and if anything improve writing skills.

. . .

The new year is upon us. 2010. I attended the Grand Rapids New Year's Eve bash downtown--concerts, food, contests, and our very own New York-esque ball drop. That final countdown--it's always interesting. There's all this hype leading up to midnight, but for me, the final minutes always seem to be the most depressing ones. I can never manage to focus on the positive stuff in those last moments of the year--and when midnight hits, I wince at the beginning of something I wasn't prepared to start.

There's no moment between the years, no time that lacks an ascribed year value. 2009 stops the moment 2010 begins, yet I don't feel any different. That's the worst part--everyone, including me, looks forward to starting something new (hence resolutions that last an average of 5 days). The new year means a new beginning, except at the moment just past midnight, everything feels exactly the same as two minutes before. Nothing changes except those last two digits when I write the date.

2009 was good to me, don't get me wrong. And I know someday New Years will be a lot more meaningful to me... just not yet. I hope yours weren't as anticlimactic as mine, and I hope you are looking forward to a fresh new year. Do something with it... I know I plan to.