The funny thing about rich

Back in the day (the 80's) there was something called the trickle down theory.

To my small brain it basically said:

Create conditions that make some people very rich and they will spend that money which will in turn pay other people who will turn around and spend their money and so on. In this way they share the wealth. But the first thing is to make sure that conditions are right such that a dude gets rich.

Which sounds pretty damn great. But then I think about this rich dude. How much money can this guy spend? I mean come on, I'll bet in part he got rich by eliminating almost all of his competition.

Some rich folks sock it away or invest it wisely for their kids. So that Junior might someday grow up to be president of the United States.

Some start to feel guilty about having all that lettuce and not enough excuses for putting it in a sandwich (or more likely protect it from being taxed out of their pockets) and start some kind of charitable foundation or start building libraries and schools.

But sometimes I wonder what would happen if some of the rich took out a list of every single person who ever worked for them. All those people who helped make them rich and bequeathed their former employees something in their will - gave a little back for the hours of toil and energy and life expended for low wages.

I suppose a rich dude wouldn't because if he tried to do that instead of donating his money to buy some fancy park benches or a build a museum, the government would tax the pants off of him (his cold buried corpse that is). But say he did, would all that money divided up amongst all those people buy each of them a candy bar? A TV? A pair of shoes?

I'm gonna be 40. Someday.

I am trying to decide what to do for my birthday. A party is a possibility.

The upside: cake, ice cream, snacks, booze, friends, telling everyone that I am now 7 years older than CE.
The downside: the distinct possibility that no one will come to my party, cleaning up, experiencing a heightened awareness of my mortality and the aimlessness of my life in front of other people, and keeping everyone entertained.

Party, no party - that is the question.

Truckasaurus

The RM (ldbug) and I did not go to the Monster Truck Rally this weekend. I'm not sure they do that kind of thing around here.

But unlike many other weekends we did things.

On Friday we went to the Metropolitan Museum, had a fancy meal, saw the Most Beautiful Young Man in the World (The whole room stopped what they were doing and turned to gawk), window shopped on Madison Ave, and had a shared celebrity sighting on the streets of NYC.


Elizabeth Berkeley (image from somewhere onwww.starpulse.com)


My first was in the subway station on the way to work:


Michael Ian Black (image from somewhere on www.gothamist.com)

On Saturday we went to Target. What can I say, old shopping habits die hard. It was a million mile walk by lots of charming little stores full of clever knickknacks and expensive whatnots. The Brooklyn Flatbush Target is two stories. It is familiar yet foreign. To get from one story to the other there is a people escalator and a shopping cart escalator. A shopping cart escalator. ldbug and I were befuddled as it was broken. And then astounded once they got it running. Your cart of goodies gets hoisted up an incline without a single precious item falling out.

Yes, we spent a ton of money and we had to lug all that stuff back a million miles.

We were originally going to go to the Bronx Zoo sometime this weekend but considering we are still up goofing around online and such we might not make it this weekend.

So fresh and so clean

This evening I was walking towards the stairs that lead down to the subway platform only to find a huddle of New Yorkers lingering on the steps.

They were huddled and lingering because the platform was being cleaned! With soap and cleaner and a hose and such.

Right after they finished rinsing our end we all tromped down to catch our train. But for a brief shiny moment the East end of the stop was washed.

Self-portrait as a marketing dupe

I went to a few free concerts at Prospect Park this summer. They were sponsored by a regional bank called Washington Mutual. I joked with G about what that kind of sponsorship said about a company. "Yo, check it, we are WaMu. We're the bank that likes the strong songs. Peace out."

A few weeks later when I opened a local bank account I opened one with WaMu.

I know I know.

But in my defense, that Yo La Tengo show was the Bomb!

got to get ourselves back to the garden

This weekend I got a library card. *cue the Alleluia chorus*

I walked over to the Central Branch of the Brooklyn Public library and waited in line and got it. The Central Branch is this enormous, cavernous and confusing place built to the scale of giants or gods. While you may find that a book is in their collection. Tracking it down in the stacks is another matter entirely. However after scampering back and forth and from one floor to another stopping once or twice at the information desk, I did find some of what I was looking for. Or at least a very close approximation. In my mind the long list of things that I want to read now unfurls like a land of possibility.

The Brooklyn Public Library has a multi-lingual book section. So if I could read chinese or russian or french or spanish or ... uh ... (that's as far as I figured) I could check out books and magazines in those languages. They had Stephen King in French which I considered but decided against it. For now.

I am reading "All Marketers Are Liars" by Seth Godin. I finally have come to terms with the fact that I am not an early adopter but rather a laggard in the face of change and innovation.

Chuck Klosterman's "A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas" waits in the wings *hee* along with "how i became Stupid" by Martin Page and Robert Sullivan's "Rats." The latter two I bought out of frustration at being twice denied a card at the local branch. I suffer the pangs of book lust if I spend too much time in a bookstore and without a library card I am likely to succumb.

I walked home weighed down by my precious cargo all pleased with myself.

CE says that when she gets to a new town she needs to find a bar in which to hang out, a good yoga studio, and a few cute places to eat. These are necessities for a happy living situation.

Apparently what I need is a library card.
It was a thing missing from my life that I did not realize how much I missed.

Now the challenge is to figure out what else I don't realize that I miss or need.

Besides sleep.
It has occurred to me that if I just went to bed at 9pm every night I would probably be a chipper and happy camper.
But then when would I blog?

=P

procrastinators unite

The alarm on my cell phone doesn't work. *gah!*


Today was "Cute Boys Ride the Train" day.

=)

Cute boys who are at least ten years too young for me, of course.

=(

I want a t-shirt that says:
"I get stupid with Stupid"
with an arrow pointing to the right.


I want a t-shirt that says:
"The Market is not Free. Never will be."


I want a t-shirt that says"
"The Dude Abides"

Got any slogans waiting to happen in t-shirt form?

a run down of being rundown

1.
It was one of those days where all day I couldn't think of a single thing that I was looking forward to.

2.
The office has gone from being AC chilly to sleepy naptime warm.

3.
The beauty of doing yoga at home alone is farting without shame.

4.
I noticed that I was wearing my underwear inside out today. And not because I need to do laundry.

5.
Odd Todd quote of the day - "Seize the Day! Someday!"

6.
On Myspace I am on the verge of having more "friends" who are bands than actual friends.

7.
Education is complicated. I think because educators like to complicate things.

8.
Some textbook companies offer a hella lot of educational stuff besides the book itself.

9.
I'm not sure any of it can replace a good teacher.

10.
I want a program that will allow me to represent my research so far as a series of linked files. Kinda like a website or something. With really good indexing and cloud tags like in del.icio.us
Hmmmm.

11.
The Guy Who Used to Be Mine might be in NYC this weekend for the Save Darfur Rally in Central Park. You should go. It's important. If you see him say hello and make sure he gets a slice of cheese pizza. He tends to forget to eat.

12.
I was going to go to bed early tonight. Oh well. Good night.

crosspost - This cartoon could be my life

Domystic has had this link, like, forever but I only clicked on it, like, yesterday.
The first three cartoons, like, totally brings back the memory of life before this internship.

So sad and funny and true

And four months from now that might be where I am again.

But I am not going to think about that.
More Cook-ays and Coff-ay, anyone?

On that morning five years ago BBFK called me and told me to turn on the television. My ex-boyfriend BB called me a few minutes later.

I followed the Wildcats email list to check that Wildkitties in the NYC vicinity were okay. To know that their loved ones were as well. I emailed EB to see if she had heard from MA who last I knew worked in the Twin Towers.
He had moved to a new job in different offices.

I emailed or called my friends who had friends in NYC.

I called and got calls from friends and family and ex-boyfriends.

We didn't know what was going on.
We needed to make contact.
We needed to make sure that we were all still here.

Five years later,
it is too early for me.
My heart clenches to hear the merest mention of any story of that day.

Five years later,
I am here. New Yorkers speak of their city as if she were a dear friend or a close relative.
The more time I spend here, the more I see it, the more I hear it.
I walk the streets without fear. I can't say why.
My cousin, EH, worries about this and warns me of where I should not be when it gets too late. Mostly I am not out too late anyway. I'm an old lady.

The world is what it is. Dangerous, uncertain, and beautiful.
That doesn't change despite anyone's best efforts of make it otherwise.

A person who understood this best died recently.
The Crocodile Hunter walked up to danger everyday and grabbed it by the tail. Because he loved dangerous animals and he curiousity was greater than his fear. That is what I loved best about him and why I am so sad that he is gone.

Because as much as life is about staying alive it is also about how and why your life is lived.

So raise a glass and tip your hat

to the Crocodile Hunter
and those loved
and those lost

to living and loving without fear
or rather,
perhaps,
to living and loving despite fear.

when it rains ...

In fact Friday was a lovely day. Sunny and fine weather. On my part it turned out to be one of those days.

A night of mojitos with co-workers the night before motivated me to do an in depth study of the various zodiac signs and their possible romantic compatibility with my own until the wee hours of the morning.

I overslept and woke to the sounds of children screaming at recess at the elementary school across the way.
A rush to get ready and get to the subway station where I waited for the train for 20 minutes.

On the train I took in some pages of "The Diamond Age" by Neal Stephenson. Deep into a description of a psychedelic orgy ending in immolation, I missed my transfer by three stops. I got off and transfered to a different train to make my way back and thought, "Gee it's neat to be riding above ground ..." I got on in the wrong direction.

Off at the next stop and back on in the other direction. Got in the general vicinity and walked several blocks to make it into work by noon!

The shame! The horror!

The silver lining to all of this is that my boss is currently in the UK.
And I had a phone interview I wanted to do with a person in Australia. 7pm here is 9am there.
So working a later shift was a good thing.

But I think it's best that I adopt the RM's "No carousing on a school night" policy.
After all, corporate tools are most useful when present during banker's hours.

You-hoo-hoo, honey

I have met the man of my dreams.

Unfortunately, he's a fictional character in a movie.

I saw "Snakes on a Muthafuckin' Plane" today. Dr. Steven Price, specialist in poisonous snakes, is my favorite depiction of a scientist on screen. Way better than Buckaroo Bonsai. And way way cuter



le *sigh*

Someone tell Todd Louiso that he needs to call me.

(if you can identify the song quote in the title, you are a woman of a certain age.)

a spherical cows and life logic

It occurs to me today that

If you are dilligent and uptight. It makes sense.
After all it takes vigilance and discipline to take care of business.

If you are dilligent and laid back, that's good.
You get shit done and are unflappable in the face of uncertainty.

If you are flaky and laid back, that's good.
You mess up a lot but you roll with it.

And if you are like me,
If you are flaky and uptight, well that's unfortunate.
You don't hit the mark and then you torture yourself endlessly about it.
The least is that perhaps my intentions are in well placed ...