I am participating in one of the most important duties an American like me can perform. I was invited to appear at the DC Superior Court as a potential petit juror. Much to my surprise (and a welcome one to be honest), I was selected to sit on a criminal case. Because I take oaths and such seriously, I will talk about the case once it is over. In the meantime, all I will say is that so far it is quite interesting, and it’s a nice change of pace from my usual tedious and boring days at NASA.

This post, however, is not about jury duty, but rather about a rather odd experience I had today. As I walked from the Metro station to the courthouse, I saw an older gentleman who was carrying a cup of coffee. This man approached another man, and gently, playfully punched him on the shoulder. The two chatted for a moment, and I assumed that they must have known each other. After I thought about it for a moment, I wasn’t really sure if they knew each other or were just participating in that instantaneous camaraderie and faux brotherly love that a certain demographic in our society engage in on the streets and in the Metro system.

Without much more thought, I continued on my way. All of the sudden, it occurred to me that this same dude was walking up behind me. But not only was he walking behind me, he was also walking at an angle towards me that would cause him to walk INTO me. As I looked up to make sure that he was aware that he was treading dangerously close to my personal space—and that he wasn’t intending to nick my wallet—he smiled at me and playfully and gently punched me in the arm. At this point, I was too stunned to say anything, and he had already accelerated and moved on ahead of me.

To say that I had an eerie feeling would be an understatement. I felt like what I expect everyone who George Lass touches might feel. A little sense of connection to the person who just touched me. A little ominous feeling that something dreadful was going to happen to me. A little frightened that a total stranger touched me, but yet, safe and secure as it was not a threatening touch in any way; but, rather, it was a gentle and soothing touch. I looked around to see if any Gravelings were in the vicinity, but I couldn’t find any.

Without going into too much detail, I had a little “bout” yesterday that caused me to run out of the courtroom rather quickly and return rather embarrassedly. I still wasn’t 100% last night, and after overmedicating myself with Imodium this morning to ensure there would be no repeat of yesterday, I set out for court. I kid you not that after that weird guy touched me, and I reassured myself he was no Reaper, an odd sense of calm overcame me, and I knew that not only would my stomach hold out on me, but that it was going to be a good day. While most of my posts here are a bit cynical or tongue-in-cheek, I have to be honest, that I’m not kidding around. I really did get that clouds parting and angels singing moment.

Sure enough, the Imodium worked (a little too well, if you know what I mean), it was a good day, and the Sailor called me that his new job is hiring and his boss was interested in talking to me about another opening they have.

Do I believe in guardian angels? I’m not sure. Do I believe that scary, odd homeless men can bring joy and happiness to a complete stranger? I’m sure.

For those who care and are keeping track, today is 300 days!

I was on the Metro this morning on my way to work. I must admit that I was doing something that I detest when others do it. My sister called me on my cell—my work cell—and since it was so early in the morning, I was a little concerned. As such, I answered it. As I mentioned, I hate it when others talk on the phone, but as I’m me and not them, I didn’t really care; although, I must admit that I did try to keep my voice down as much as I could.

I was standing in front of the door because we were coming up on the next station, and I wanted to get off to move down to the next car (too many people were talking on their cell phones in that one). This woman runs up to the door and says, “exCUSE me, dude.” I simply ignored her because where was she going to go? The train was still moving, and no matter how quickly they close the doors, there is always time to get off. She, too was on her cell, and as I didn’t move at her demand, she began to roughly push me and grumbled into the phone something incomprehensible to anyone who has a strong command of the English language, but something I’m sure disparaging toward me and comprehensible to her cell phone chum.

We stopped at the station, and the doors opened. I made sure that I got off before her, and as she strolled (and I mean slowly meandered) down the platform, I could just make out the following as she continued to speak something that wasn’t quite English into her phone: “Fuck You, ya fuckin’ movahfuckin’ movahfuckah…”

And people wonder why this city has a reputation for rudeness.

I don't normally repost things here, but RC sent me this article, and I thought it worthy of posting. From NPR's website:

Absinthe: A Potent Potable Makes a Comeback
by Curt Nickisch

Weekend Edition Sunday, November 25, 2007 · Picasso sipped absinthe. Hemingway mused on it. It may have helped persuade Van Gogh to lop off his ear. Now a drink banned in the U.S. for nearly a century (it was wrongly considered a hallucinogen) is back on the scene at trendy clubs.

Click here for the source of this article.

As some of you may have noticed, the site was down for a bit the past few days. I'm not very happy with GoDaddy at the moment, but the important thing is that, no thanks to GoDaddy, I believe that everything is back up and running normally.

If you see any issues, please let me know.

Thanks,

Jo Cose

[Updated on 4 December 2007]

I decided that since technically this post will change with every launch, I would move it over to a page, so if you are interested, click here.

I recently joined Facebook (while I have a Jo Cose account, I also have one under my real name. If you are interested in being as nerdy as me, shoot me an email), and I am going through trying to find old friends. Well, I found one from a long time ago who I'm glad I found. He was a great kid, and I'm really glad to hear that he's doing well.

We've been emailing, catching up, and here's something that he wrote me. I am very happy for him, but it makes me kind of sad to think that it's not me writing the same to someone else:

the truth is that i'm very honored to have this job. I travel all over europe all the time, and i get to have the satisfaction of educating young [people]... i love it! :-)

I heard a great metaphor the other day.

I was at an event on Capitol Hill commemorating Vietnam veterans. One of the speakers said:

Back then, people didn’t like the song. They didn’t like the conductor, and they took it out on the musicians.

As I type it, it actually sounds a little cliché, but there is still something quite poetic about it, and I’m sticking it on here so I won’t forget it later.

I just noticed that I have been remiss in posting one of the most significant things that has happened to me. I shall rectify that oversight with this here post, y’all.

Back in September, I became one of the millions of other Americans who are deep in debt. Well, I didn’t buy a house, so I’m not that deep in debt, and I guess that by the title of this post, you can guess where I’m going with this.

Yes, indeedy, folks, I bought a new car.

It is a 2008 Galaxy Gray Honda Civic EX with navigation. It’s awesome, and I love it so much. I’m so excited, and I’m still excited even these months later.

That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll have all kinds of cool car stories.

Actually, I do have one.

So, when I bought it, I specifically asked NOT to have the “Taxation without Representation” tags that are now the standard tags given in the District of Columbia. I am deeply opposed to DC getting statehood for myriad reasons that I would prefer not to get into here, so when I was at the dealer and they were getting my info to register the car, I requested to have the plain tags as I would prefer not to advertise something I don’t agree with.

If you guessed that I got “Taxation without Representation” tags when I went to the dealer to pick them up, you would be right. I went to the DMV that Saturday, and exchanged them. I was told that I would have to pay the $10 exchange fee, which I tried to argue as I did tell the dealership I didn’t want the other tags (if you tell them at the time of registration, you can get the other tags without a fee). The woman, who I would like to state for the record did not meet the DMV stereotype, and was actually very nice, told me that since the dealership did it, I had to take that up with them, and that the DMV had no way of knowing. OK, that’s fine, I can spare $10 for my principles….but I tried one last tactic. I said to the nice woman, “So, you are penalizing me for my political beliefs.” Her response was, “yea, pretty much, sorry.”

Anyway, I walked out of the DMV with new tags that will be pretty easy to remember for somewhat dubious reasons. On Monday, I got a check from the dealership for $9. When I called to see why they sent me the money, I was told that they had overcharged me for registration. Hmmm, perhaps my dealer heard my grumbling about it when I picked up the tags and reimbursed me for my dissatisfaction. Either way, in the end it only cost me a $1 for the new tags.

I won’t even get into the ordeal of getting the f’ing tags of the f’ing car…that’s a-whole-nother story!

Why is it that if we are up for something, we are down with it?