Today was spent in the pursuit of things. It was Target Day.
The RM and I took the bus out to Flatbush Ave. to this very end.
After a day of pushing and shoving and shopping.
Of pricing and comparing and considering.
Of picking up and putting down, and circling, only to pick up again.
And of sticker shock, even at a Target. Oy Vey!
And then there was the struggle to bring it all home by foot and by bus.
All the way I cursed myself, I cursed Target, I cursed my puny arms, and I missed my car.
New York living can be a real pain in the ass.
Still, as a result I now have Xmas cards in case the holiday spirit hits me.
I have an air mattress, a comforter, towels, and bedding for guests,
gifts to donate to Toys for Tots,
a coffee cup for use at work,
a stock pot to make soups,
small pens for my purse,
a pair of pants for work,
And, I am pleased to report that now not only is there room at the Inn, there are also flannel sheets.
Afterwards we pushed the envelop and went grocery shopping while starving. The RM, being a generous sort, was further ladden down with ingredients for holiday sweets. Suger. So Heavy! And as a result we had more really really heavy bags to carry back to the house. Again missing having cars. I think if someone were to measure my dimensions right now, my spine would be shorter and my arms would be longer.
Saturday, I met up with RBe. Among many activities of the day he took me to the Strand - 18 miles of books, Baby. Can I get a Hell Yeah from the Choir?
*Hell Yeah!*
I was too bedazzled to purchase anything. But I cannot wait to go back. I am now in search of a place that sells 18 miles of music. Any suggestions? I know, I know, I am supposed to be filesharing or buying online or something. But I can't help it, I love loitering at the music store. I love the obnoxious know it all clerks that mock you when you come up to the counter to pay for your purchases. And I love the walls of flyers and posters and the zines and postcards and the free CD samplers with all those crappy songs on them.
I dragged RBe to Saint's Alp Teahouse which has a really unpleasant ambience but I did like the tea with Agar. RBe didn't like it so well. Pearl Tea is an acquired taste. Not everyone likes to have a drink that eats like a snack. But it does occur to me after five months I am as unfamiliar with NYC as I was the first day and perhaps it is time to sniff around a look for the places that could act as my City Oases.
RBe and his friend H are going to an event called Beers and Deers which as far as I can tell consists of vegans and vegetarians doing a pub crawl to across the City to places that have the arcade game "Buck Hunter" to drink beers and shoot virtual deers. Sounds like excellent fun.
Having been introduced to Buck Hunter by RBe, I recently bullied some coworkers into trying it out. Interestingly they were all much better at shooting birds than deer. I was not good at either activity.
Friday, the RM and I went to a place called Ivo and Lulu's and had roasted duck for not much money. It was a cute tiny little place where you could bring your own bottle of wine. (We did. A nice bottle with a cute name: the New York Cab) We the only non couple at the place. All stages of love were represented: first date, double date, honeymoon phase, committed long term couples and so on.
Afterwards we went to Madison Square Garden to see Tenacious D. It was a hell of a show. It was a mini rock opera and a fine old time. Sort of a dorky rock guy cross between Faust and "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" done with the deepest of committment and conviction. And now I must go see the movie.
Added to this was the fact that when you buy a beer at MSG it is served in a plastic mug with a beer pretzel stuck in a holder drilled into the handle. it's hard to describe but actually kinda cool. I wish I had brought them home.
We met up with Kat E, JS, CS, and T for drinks and food. Good times. And best birthday wishes to the gorgeous and talented CS, may this be his year, his most fabulous year evah.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Saturday, December 02, 2006
do you beta?
The RM will kill me if I don't switch to beta now that I have been asked to.
But well, I just ...
Change is hard even if it ends up being a change for the better.
Even if it's better the one thing about it that's not better is that it's different.
But well, I just ...
Change is hard even if it ends up being a change for the better.
Even if it's better the one thing about it that's not better is that it's different.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Thanksgiving without Turkey
If you are a regular reader of the RM's blog you know that she and I spent Thanksgiving in the UK. Because we could.
The British Airways flight was delightful. Although the pre-flight booking process was irritating in both directions.
Corporate rules are very inflexible as are their computer systems. If you do not do things early enough and properly you are in for plenty of wackiness. That or BA just hates me. Which is also entirely possible.
The food was very bland and I spilled a full cup of water on myself right after the plane took off. On the plus side they gave us a travel toothbrush with a tiny little tube of toothpaste and dark blue socks. Socks!
The flight itself was good although foolishly instead of sleeping the whole way I watched two movies: "Trust the Man" which was not horrible and occassionally quite funny and "The Ant Bully" which was scientifically inaccurate. I would like to see more children's movies about space aliens and mythical creatures because what they are "learning" about "nature" in these movies is misleading at the least.
We arrived at Heathrow at 7am very tired. The RM didn't feel like she was in a foreign country yet b/c airports all look the same. I beg to differ. Looking out the window I could see a tree and a very well tended hedge right on the tarmac (is that what it's called?) I have never seen a hedge, much less a well manicured hedge in an American airport landing or tarmac area.
And after getting off the plane I am confronted with further differences:
This is the symbol for Women's room in at Heathrow:
In fact the men and women's signs are both different in proportion:
Walking into the bathroom aka: "toilet" or "loo" I found that the RM and I did not need to pack a toothbrush because in the UK they have:
The RM thought I had lost my mind taking pictures in bathrooms at the airport. I mean we hadn't really seen anything yet. Cracked out from air travel and sleep deprivation, she was probably right.
The guy at the visa line thought that the RM and I were sisters. I was too tired to be able to tell if he was kidding.
We got our luggage and proceeded to discover that the Train and the Underground are two different things and asking for one will not get you directions to the other.
After a long ride on the Underground while it was above ground in which we did much giggling we arrived in London. Our stop was at Piccadilly Circus. Here we dropped off our luggage at the Regent Palace Hotel with a exterior and a name a bit more grandiose than it's modest interior and went out to get breakfast and see the Rosetta Stone.
On the way we ran into a Tardis.
Sadly, it was not working and disappointly small on the inside. In fact, I couldn't even figure out how to use it as a phone booth either for most of the trip. It just kept eating my coins and giving nothing back.
The British Airways flight was delightful. Although the pre-flight booking process was irritating in both directions.
Corporate rules are very inflexible as are their computer systems. If you do not do things early enough and properly you are in for plenty of wackiness. That or BA just hates me. Which is also entirely possible.
The food was very bland and I spilled a full cup of water on myself right after the plane took off. On the plus side they gave us a travel toothbrush with a tiny little tube of toothpaste and dark blue socks. Socks!
The flight itself was good although foolishly instead of sleeping the whole way I watched two movies: "Trust the Man" which was not horrible and occassionally quite funny and "The Ant Bully" which was scientifically inaccurate. I would like to see more children's movies about space aliens and mythical creatures because what they are "learning" about "nature" in these movies is misleading at the least.
We arrived at Heathrow at 7am very tired. The RM didn't feel like she was in a foreign country yet b/c airports all look the same. I beg to differ. Looking out the window I could see a tree and a very well tended hedge right on the tarmac (is that what it's called?) I have never seen a hedge, much less a well manicured hedge in an American airport landing or tarmac area.
And after getting off the plane I am confronted with further differences:
This is the symbol for Women's room in at Heathrow:
In fact the men and women's signs are both different in proportion:
Walking into the bathroom aka: "toilet" or "loo" I found that the RM and I did not need to pack a toothbrush because in the UK they have:
The RM thought I had lost my mind taking pictures in bathrooms at the airport. I mean we hadn't really seen anything yet. Cracked out from air travel and sleep deprivation, she was probably right.
The guy at the visa line thought that the RM and I were sisters. I was too tired to be able to tell if he was kidding.
We got our luggage and proceeded to discover that the Train and the Underground are two different things and asking for one will not get you directions to the other.
After a long ride on the Underground while it was above ground in which we did much giggling we arrived in London. Our stop was at Piccadilly Circus. Here we dropped off our luggage at the Regent Palace Hotel with a exterior and a name a bit more grandiose than it's modest interior and went out to get breakfast and see the Rosetta Stone.
On the way we ran into a Tardis.
Sadly, it was not working and disappointly small on the inside. In fact, I couldn't even figure out how to use it as a phone booth either for most of the trip. It just kept eating my coins and giving nothing back.
Getting into the holiday groove
Our office is having a holiday decorating contest. And for whatever reason, my cubicle section decided to participate. We decided yesterday and the deadline was today. I think because the cubicle section next door to us has put up a very elaborate and impressive display in honor of Festivus. It's awesome.
One thought was to go with a Winter Solstice theme. I was all for going Pagan. But in researching Pagan winter solstice traditions it turned out that the Christmas holiday has stolen almost all of them. And outside of having a representation of a horned god or Odin riding an 8-legged reindeer there was little to be done to differentiate a Traditional Christmas from a Pagan Winter solstice celebration.
We ended up throwing some lights and paper flowers around our section and putting up geeky science displays of the sun in relation to the earth at Winter Solstice which is the shortest day of the year and I think falls on December 22nd this year. If they have an award for Dorkiest entry I am confident that we will get it.
The funny thing is that several of the senior people grudgingly admitted that while they are not down with the whole Xmas holiday but they could get behind our position on the earth with respect to the sun. *Lucky Thing*
Of course while I should have Christmas carols running through my head I was actually decorating our section to the tune of zefrank's song "If the earth were a sandwich" in my head.
My Nanowrimo was a crash and burn, friends. *sigh* Hats off to those who kicked Nano Ass this year. Maybe next year will be better. LJL has found a site that will help you write a novel in 100 days. New challenge for the New Year? At the rate my life to work ratio decreases, probably not. But I will meditate on it through this month.
One thought was to go with a Winter Solstice theme. I was all for going Pagan. But in researching Pagan winter solstice traditions it turned out that the Christmas holiday has stolen almost all of them. And outside of having a representation of a horned god or Odin riding an 8-legged reindeer there was little to be done to differentiate a Traditional Christmas from a Pagan Winter solstice celebration.
We ended up throwing some lights and paper flowers around our section and putting up geeky science displays of the sun in relation to the earth at Winter Solstice which is the shortest day of the year and I think falls on December 22nd this year. If they have an award for Dorkiest entry I am confident that we will get it.
The funny thing is that several of the senior people grudgingly admitted that while they are not down with the whole Xmas holiday but they could get behind our position on the earth with respect to the sun. *Lucky Thing*
Of course while I should have Christmas carols running through my head I was actually decorating our section to the tune of zefrank's song "If the earth were a sandwich" in my head.
My Nanowrimo was a crash and burn, friends. *sigh* Hats off to those who kicked Nano Ass this year. Maybe next year will be better. LJL has found a site that will help you write a novel in 100 days. New challenge for the New Year? At the rate my life to work ratio decreases, probably not. But I will meditate on it through this month.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
chauvinism in the studio or society?
Watching all the media flak and corporate crap that Jordan McDeere goes through on Studio 60 just kills me.
And it seems like she gets it way worse because she is a woman in a position of power. Everytime she gets a talking to from Danny, or Jack, or Wilson about how she has to do something to fix her image and to make people like her she points out the double standard at play in the scenario. Their response to this is frown a little, shrug it off and stress that she needs to fix her media image problem.
I feel so frustrated and straitjacketed right along with her. Because apparently the world has changed enough to give her the opportunity to become president of a major television network but not enough to let her keep that job without ongoing attempts to publically humilitate her and try to get her fired. I really feel for her.
This is despite the fact that she is a socially awkward, very ambitious, corporate tool and a oddly kind of a goody goody what for all scandal she's had in her life. Kind of like a grown-up Lisa Simpson who's taken some weird turns and made a few too many compromises but still retains her soul - by a thread - and manages to come off shiny as a penny.
(Or perhaps because of the same fact ... it's really hard to say.)
Then she confesses that when she took the job she decided to run the network as if she had one year to live.
Which has me asking myself what I would do if I had one year to live.
I would like to think that I would take risks and cut to the heart of the matter at every moment.
My fear is that the most likely scenario would be that I would cry and mope for two or three months and then live my life usual except eat more chocolate and ice cream.
And it seems like she gets it way worse because she is a woman in a position of power. Everytime she gets a talking to from Danny, or Jack, or Wilson about how she has to do something to fix her image and to make people like her she points out the double standard at play in the scenario. Their response to this is frown a little, shrug it off and stress that she needs to fix her media image problem.
I feel so frustrated and straitjacketed right along with her. Because apparently the world has changed enough to give her the opportunity to become president of a major television network but not enough to let her keep that job without ongoing attempts to publically humilitate her and try to get her fired. I really feel for her.
This is despite the fact that she is a socially awkward, very ambitious, corporate tool and a oddly kind of a goody goody what for all scandal she's had in her life. Kind of like a grown-up Lisa Simpson who's taken some weird turns and made a few too many compromises but still retains her soul - by a thread - and manages to come off shiny as a penny.
(Or perhaps because of the same fact ... it's really hard to say.)
Then she confesses that when she took the job she decided to run the network as if she had one year to live.
Which has me asking myself what I would do if I had one year to live.
I would like to think that I would take risks and cut to the heart of the matter at every moment.
My fear is that the most likely scenario would be that I would cry and mope for two or three months and then live my life usual except eat more chocolate and ice cream.
Monday, November 20, 2006
YouTube meme
There's this meme on Youtube that started with a movie called "One World"
The author wrote a message on his/her hand and put it up to the camera. The message was "One World" with an invitation to respond.
There are lots and lots of responses of all kinds.
Sincere, corny, clever, rude, offensive, stupid.
And corny as some of them, as many of them are ...
I'm kind of moved and entranced by the whole thing.
The author wrote a message on his/her hand and put it up to the camera. The message was "One World" with an invitation to respond.
There are lots and lots of responses of all kinds.
Sincere, corny, clever, rude, offensive, stupid.
And corny as some of them, as many of them are ...
I'm kind of moved and entranced by the whole thing.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
snapshot
Vox Pop is a groovy little place to play. You are surrounded by books and friendly people who are all about being political and progressive. They serve fair trade coffee, beer, wine, salads, sandwiches, and (second hand report) an out of sight veggie burger. The crowd was friendly and lively. Added to that a few friends from work and a few friends from way back came out to show their support. I was nerrrrvous and it was great to see friendly faces in the audience. Not everyone was a fan of the sound system but I liked the set up there. The sound in the room felt very warm. Very yellow like the walls. And at the back of the tiny little stage was a sort of padded couchy bench I sat on. It was almost like practicing guitar on the bed at home. Very comforting association but at some point I am going to have to start playing while standing.
The other acts were pretty outstanding.
Jeff Harms came in from Chicago. He has a deliciously low voice and a skewed worldview. His album comes with a really funny activity book and a pencil. And he has a song about a sailing ship. I am jealous as I have always intended to write a sea shanty or a boat song it just hasn't really come together yet.
Stacy Rock has an astounding technical virtuosity and polish vocally and musically. And she's gorgeous to boot. Imagine Fiona Apple's work crossed with Tori Amos/Sarah McLaughlin vocals. Now imagine all of that music coming out of Famke Janssen. That's Stacy Rock.
Both of these acts were very good. Much more professional than me. And then it was the Lunamarys from Indiana. oh. my. god. They made my night. They were seriously fucking amazing. I am considering making them my new religion. With Jane on backing vocals and on guitar and Mel soaring and growling and singing and wailing on vocals. It was transcendent. Mel has a vibrant and vital voice - clear and crisp and incredibly elastic in range and capacity and her stage presence is so focused and powerful. Every motion, every gesture, every change in expression picked up and amplified out from the stage. The song writing was smart and vivid and genuine.
The tunes on myspace do not do justice to any of the acts of the evening particularly the Lunamarys, though go see them live.
And for today I went to the library, paid my late fines, and got new books! Yay!
I visited three coffee shops while wrestling with my pathetic nanonovel wordcount. I am at 10k now. I am supposed to be at 35k by this coming Wednesday best get cracking on that. In the first week several people commented that they wrote through 10-15K before getting to the point where they were actually starting to tell the story they intended to tell. Which I thought was kind of odd but I am finding that this is my experience as well. I didn't really know where things were going but I started by writing a scene that would be at the middle of the whole story. Then I went back and started the whole thing in a haphazard way. And now I am about at the point where things start taking on a shape. The three characters in that scene have all been introduced. They are all acquaintances of the narrator. She can certainly create a situation in which they all meet. She has coffee with one of them which will allow us to estabilsh why he do the things he do. The rest of up to them.
Of course plot bunnies could swoop in at anytime. Not that it will really matter in my case cause much like last year ... there's really no plot to speak of.
The RM's cat was nestled into my shoulder purring like mad. He smells like shampoo. Which is weird. He smells like a pretty girl. But he's just a fluffy kitty.
The other acts were pretty outstanding.
Jeff Harms came in from Chicago. He has a deliciously low voice and a skewed worldview. His album comes with a really funny activity book and a pencil. And he has a song about a sailing ship. I am jealous as I have always intended to write a sea shanty or a boat song it just hasn't really come together yet.
Stacy Rock has an astounding technical virtuosity and polish vocally and musically. And she's gorgeous to boot. Imagine Fiona Apple's work crossed with Tori Amos/Sarah McLaughlin vocals. Now imagine all of that music coming out of Famke Janssen. That's Stacy Rock.
Both of these acts were very good. Much more professional than me. And then it was the Lunamarys from Indiana. oh. my. god. They made my night. They were seriously fucking amazing. I am considering making them my new religion. With Jane on backing vocals and on guitar and Mel soaring and growling and singing and wailing on vocals. It was transcendent. Mel has a vibrant and vital voice - clear and crisp and incredibly elastic in range and capacity and her stage presence is so focused and powerful. Every motion, every gesture, every change in expression picked up and amplified out from the stage. The song writing was smart and vivid and genuine.
The tunes on myspace do not do justice to any of the acts of the evening particularly the Lunamarys, though go see them live.
And for today I went to the library, paid my late fines, and got new books! Yay!
I visited three coffee shops while wrestling with my pathetic nanonovel wordcount. I am at 10k now. I am supposed to be at 35k by this coming Wednesday best get cracking on that. In the first week several people commented that they wrote through 10-15K before getting to the point where they were actually starting to tell the story they intended to tell. Which I thought was kind of odd but I am finding that this is my experience as well. I didn't really know where things were going but I started by writing a scene that would be at the middle of the whole story. Then I went back and started the whole thing in a haphazard way. And now I am about at the point where things start taking on a shape. The three characters in that scene have all been introduced. They are all acquaintances of the narrator. She can certainly create a situation in which they all meet. She has coffee with one of them which will allow us to estabilsh why he do the things he do. The rest of up to them.
Of course plot bunnies could swoop in at anytime. Not that it will really matter in my case cause much like last year ... there's really no plot to speak of.
The RM's cat was nestled into my shoulder purring like mad. He smells like shampoo. Which is weird. He smells like a pretty girl. But he's just a fluffy kitty.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Student shot repeatedly with taser by University of California Police officers
University police officers at UCLA tasered a student who was working at the Powell Library computer lab at 11:30pm because he didn't have an id card and he did not want an officer to physically handle him (grab his arm) as he left the building.
If a person is tasered he will not be able to stand up immediately after being shot. To shoot him again for "refusing to comply" strikes me as an application of excessive force.
One of the police officers threatened to taser bystanders when they him to stop tasering the student on the ground.
There is a Youtube video of this. I can't bring myself to watch it. I am already furious and I don't want to start crying.
What happened to the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?
This is not right. It has to get fixed. As a nation we have imprisoned ourselves in our fear.
If a person is tasered he will not be able to stand up immediately after being shot. To shoot him again for "refusing to comply" strikes me as an application of excessive force.
One of the police officers threatened to taser bystanders when they him to stop tasering the student on the ground.
There is a Youtube video of this. I can't bring myself to watch it. I am already furious and I don't want to start crying.
What happened to the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?
This is not right. It has to get fixed. As a nation we have imprisoned ourselves in our fear.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
gimme an "F" - gimme an "S" - gimme an "S"
There's always a long list of things that I want to do in a weekend.
And most of them get tabled.
Because I forget in the midst of the life maintenance things and the neato people to meet and neato things to see that there is the need to unwind. The need for downtime.
F: Nancy and Chuck
This weekend was originally going to begin with an event sponsored by "The Men's Journal." A presentation from a guy who took a long trip to Madagascar. Drinks and snacks provided by Chivas. The RM and I had this theory that perhaps an event like this might be where the boys ... er ... Men are. We RSVP'd and everything.
I think we didn't go because I was feeling weird, ill, anti-social and unappealing. We went instead to the other planned activity of the evening - happy hour drinks at the Nancy Whiskey Bar with co-workers. The Nancy Whiskey Bar is a divey bar with loft are seating that is perfect for short people. A great place to get fatty foods, throw back some drinks, sing along to loveable songs blasting from the jukebox, argue about politics and other stupid bullshit with know-it-alls (provided that you have friends of that sort). Our coworkers are too sensible to argue politics or stupid bullshit. So we went with talking about work and other things that I could not hear in the din of the room. I canvassed those at the table who had spent time in the UK to see if the boys are cuter in Oxford or Cambridge. Simple question. No one seems to have an answer.
The Hero BLT sandwich there has two pounds of bacon on an enormous hero roll. The fries are big wedges of potato with a hint of crisp.
It reminded me of a couple of my favorite saloons in CU. For once I felt very much at home drinkin' in the City.
Weaving back from there I spent the evening bringing closure to the reading of my most recent book for the train: Chuck Klosterman IV:Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas." He's be my train companion for some time now. Witty, sharp, smart, insightful, slightly curmudgeonly, difficult, and very much a guy. I almost missed my subway stop many times whilst reading. And disgraced myself during the commute by laughing out loud and often. Plus most of the essays are short enough to allow the reading of several during my commute.
Sometimes I wonder if his ideas would spin out into greater and deeper dimension if he was not writing about pop culture for Spin.
Sa: Lazed and Cornfused
I knew that there were things I should do/wanted to do: Practicing singing and playing guitar, flyering, laundry, cleaning, shopping for lightbulbs and other essentials, yoga, mailing bills, working on my nanowrimo word count, seeing more of New York, seeing more of Brooklyn, finding a show to attend, working, answering emails, calling friends, and on and on and on.
But I ended up dragging around the house, eating donuts, Budding sliced meat sandwiches, and watching "L'auberge Espanol." A cute movie about a french grad student who studies abroad in Barcelona for a year. It's one of those unstructured movies where stuff happens, then he goes home, and somehow that year changes his life.
Maybe if I had studied abroad for a year during college my life would be changed as well. Although perhaps my life has seen enough changes as it is.
Barcelona is on my list of places to visit. After the movie, I am mentally circling it and bumping it higher up.
Then off to the coffee shop to attempt to put some words behind me for Nano. I am up to a platry 6.5k quite a bit off from the 20k I ought to have. A pathetic showing compared to last year. Next year I will have an outline of the overall story arc to use as my guide.
The shop was very warm and crowded. Apparently killing time in coffee shops with slouchy furniture is just the thing for a Saturday. A few fellas tried to engage the RM in conversation with limited success as she was engrossed in a new book. And I would occassionally grimace at the poor guy and then get back to typing or websurfing.
And back home to watch a very sad Nature documentary called "Chimpanzees: An Unnatural History".
Eat more Budding Sandwiches and Lollygag around.
Su: It's a Wine World
And on this rainy grey day, I went to a wine tasting. An alumni wine tasting. I was pleasantly surprised to run into a few people that I know and meet a few new people. I don't know squat about wine. A lifetime of drinking fruit juice and soda means that I bring a pretty childish point of view to the whole wine tasting experience. Most of what I know comes from what I recall in drinking it myself, reading "Wine For Dummies," and the opinions of my friends who loooove wine.
As far as I can tell:
Cabernet Sauvignon is dark, thick and taste like a punch in the face.
Pinot Noirs taste like dirt, are thinner and lighter. Dry with less after taste.
Beaujolais are very very light and watery. Grapey without tasting sweet.
Zinfandels, the red ones, taste green like grass or moss or the smell of a forest after a good rain.
Merlots are bright reds in flavor, not necessarily in color.
Malbec (at least the one I had that one time ...) is a sweet red.
Kabinett is fruity, sweet and straightforward.
Riesling is fruity, often pretty sweet, but can have other aspects to it.
Gewurtztraminer can be fruity but has a little bite to it, more non-fruity flavors. A crispness at the end.
Pinot Gris is a subtle almost invisible wine.
Chardonnays are white wines that try very hard to be taken seriously. The oaky ones would slap you where a Cab would punch you.
The rest of them are a mystery to me. I tasted an amarone once that was just beautiful, though I can't remember why. It was very expensive too. Maybe that was why.
A syrah, a grenache, a sauvignon blanc, sangiovese, chianti, and ... ? I am at a loss.
I don't know much of the terminology associated with tasting. I got in trouble once for describing a wine as "metallic." It tasted like aluminum foil. No joke. I tend to classify wines as "friendly" or "unfriendly." And of course with my low alcohol tolerance I end up weaving over the table hoping that I am not spitting at people as I speak with them or braying like a jackass. Really, I should learn to spit gracefully. The thing that I wonder about wine tasting is to what degree it really gives you a feel for a particular wine. To me the last sip of a glass is different from the first. The third glass a little different from the second. And throw in some cheese or a plate of spaghetti into the mix and everything shifts yet again.
There was a wine at the tasting that literally smelled a little like vienna sausage or canned ham. I find it interesting that white wines are described as tasting like pale or yellow things like apples or pears or butter while red wines are described as tasting like berries or cherries. But rarely have I had a red wine that tastes sweet or tart or sour. I don't know what else there is there is about red fruits that is in red wine that I am missing.
At this moment I contemplate keeping better track of what I like, the varietals, the kinds of words that would be associated with those wines. When you reach a certain age wine becomes a thing you have. And at that age it's good to have some idea of what you like - because wine turns out to be incredibly subjective and leaving the choosing up to someone else could make for an "unfriendly" bottle and an evening spent trying not to make the *ick* face after each sniff or swallow.
And most of them get tabled.
Because I forget in the midst of the life maintenance things and the neato people to meet and neato things to see that there is the need to unwind. The need for downtime.
F: Nancy and Chuck
This weekend was originally going to begin with an event sponsored by "The Men's Journal." A presentation from a guy who took a long trip to Madagascar. Drinks and snacks provided by Chivas. The RM and I had this theory that perhaps an event like this might be where the boys ... er ... Men are. We RSVP'd and everything.
I think we didn't go because I was feeling weird, ill, anti-social and unappealing. We went instead to the other planned activity of the evening - happy hour drinks at the Nancy Whiskey Bar with co-workers. The Nancy Whiskey Bar is a divey bar with loft are seating that is perfect for short people. A great place to get fatty foods, throw back some drinks, sing along to loveable songs blasting from the jukebox, argue about politics and other stupid bullshit with know-it-alls (provided that you have friends of that sort). Our coworkers are too sensible to argue politics or stupid bullshit. So we went with talking about work and other things that I could not hear in the din of the room. I canvassed those at the table who had spent time in the UK to see if the boys are cuter in Oxford or Cambridge. Simple question. No one seems to have an answer.
The Hero BLT sandwich there has two pounds of bacon on an enormous hero roll. The fries are big wedges of potato with a hint of crisp.
It reminded me of a couple of my favorite saloons in CU. For once I felt very much at home drinkin' in the City.
Weaving back from there I spent the evening bringing closure to the reading of my most recent book for the train: Chuck Klosterman IV:Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas." He's be my train companion for some time now. Witty, sharp, smart, insightful, slightly curmudgeonly, difficult, and very much a guy. I almost missed my subway stop many times whilst reading. And disgraced myself during the commute by laughing out loud and often. Plus most of the essays are short enough to allow the reading of several during my commute.
Sometimes I wonder if his ideas would spin out into greater and deeper dimension if he was not writing about pop culture for Spin.
Sa: Lazed and Cornfused
I knew that there were things I should do/wanted to do: Practicing singing and playing guitar, flyering, laundry, cleaning, shopping for lightbulbs and other essentials, yoga, mailing bills, working on my nanowrimo word count, seeing more of New York, seeing more of Brooklyn, finding a show to attend, working, answering emails, calling friends, and on and on and on.
But I ended up dragging around the house, eating donuts, Budding sliced meat sandwiches, and watching "L'auberge Espanol." A cute movie about a french grad student who studies abroad in Barcelona for a year. It's one of those unstructured movies where stuff happens, then he goes home, and somehow that year changes his life.
Maybe if I had studied abroad for a year during college my life would be changed as well. Although perhaps my life has seen enough changes as it is.
Barcelona is on my list of places to visit. After the movie, I am mentally circling it and bumping it higher up.
Then off to the coffee shop to attempt to put some words behind me for Nano. I am up to a platry 6.5k quite a bit off from the 20k I ought to have. A pathetic showing compared to last year. Next year I will have an outline of the overall story arc to use as my guide.
The shop was very warm and crowded. Apparently killing time in coffee shops with slouchy furniture is just the thing for a Saturday. A few fellas tried to engage the RM in conversation with limited success as she was engrossed in a new book. And I would occassionally grimace at the poor guy and then get back to typing or websurfing.
And back home to watch a very sad Nature documentary called "Chimpanzees: An Unnatural History".
Eat more Budding Sandwiches and Lollygag around.
Su: It's a Wine World
And on this rainy grey day, I went to a wine tasting. An alumni wine tasting. I was pleasantly surprised to run into a few people that I know and meet a few new people. I don't know squat about wine. A lifetime of drinking fruit juice and soda means that I bring a pretty childish point of view to the whole wine tasting experience. Most of what I know comes from what I recall in drinking it myself, reading "Wine For Dummies," and the opinions of my friends who loooove wine.
As far as I can tell:
Cabernet Sauvignon is dark, thick and taste like a punch in the face.
Pinot Noirs taste like dirt, are thinner and lighter. Dry with less after taste.
Beaujolais are very very light and watery. Grapey without tasting sweet.
Zinfandels, the red ones, taste green like grass or moss or the smell of a forest after a good rain.
Merlots are bright reds in flavor, not necessarily in color.
Malbec (at least the one I had that one time ...) is a sweet red.
Kabinett is fruity, sweet and straightforward.
Riesling is fruity, often pretty sweet, but can have other aspects to it.
Gewurtztraminer can be fruity but has a little bite to it, more non-fruity flavors. A crispness at the end.
Pinot Gris is a subtle almost invisible wine.
Chardonnays are white wines that try very hard to be taken seriously. The oaky ones would slap you where a Cab would punch you.
The rest of them are a mystery to me. I tasted an amarone once that was just beautiful, though I can't remember why. It was very expensive too. Maybe that was why.
A syrah, a grenache, a sauvignon blanc, sangiovese, chianti, and ... ? I am at a loss.
I don't know much of the terminology associated with tasting. I got in trouble once for describing a wine as "metallic." It tasted like aluminum foil. No joke. I tend to classify wines as "friendly" or "unfriendly." And of course with my low alcohol tolerance I end up weaving over the table hoping that I am not spitting at people as I speak with them or braying like a jackass. Really, I should learn to spit gracefully. The thing that I wonder about wine tasting is to what degree it really gives you a feel for a particular wine. To me the last sip of a glass is different from the first. The third glass a little different from the second. And throw in some cheese or a plate of spaghetti into the mix and everything shifts yet again.
There was a wine at the tasting that literally smelled a little like vienna sausage or canned ham. I find it interesting that white wines are described as tasting like pale or yellow things like apples or pears or butter while red wines are described as tasting like berries or cherries. But rarely have I had a red wine that tastes sweet or tart or sour. I don't know what else there is there is about red fruits that is in red wine that I am missing.
At this moment I contemplate keeping better track of what I like, the varietals, the kinds of words that would be associated with those wines. When you reach a certain age wine becomes a thing you have. And at that age it's good to have some idea of what you like - because wine turns out to be incredibly subjective and leaving the choosing up to someone else could make for an "unfriendly" bottle and an evening spent trying not to make the *ick* face after each sniff or swallow.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Shameless Act of Self Promotion
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Famousville is a small place
At a late lunch today I sat at a table next to Michael Stipe:
from www.americanmovie.com
or at least someone who looks a whole lot like him. He came in, sat down and read the NYTimes with big black chunky reading glasses.
At a table across the room Ed Burns was having lunch with "the guys."
from www.rottentomatoes.com
Recognized because of his very distinctive voice. I wouldn't have noticed them except that the RM pointed out that that table of hobbits looked like they were from out of town.
Perhaps someday I will interrupt someone famous for no reason except to say "Hey it's you! Hi. I love you. ... um, uh ... bye!" And run off.
My project for next week is to make a list of the people I would like to meet in NYC. It starts with zefrank and Malcolm Gladwell.
from www.americanmovie.com
or at least someone who looks a whole lot like him. He came in, sat down and read the NYTimes with big black chunky reading glasses.
At a table across the room Ed Burns was having lunch with "the guys."
from www.rottentomatoes.com
Recognized because of his very distinctive voice. I wouldn't have noticed them except that the RM pointed out that that table of hobbits looked like they were from out of town.
Perhaps someday I will interrupt someone famous for no reason except to say "Hey it's you! Hi. I love you. ... um, uh ... bye!" And run off.
My project for next week is to make a list of the people I would like to meet in NYC. It starts with zefrank and Malcolm Gladwell.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Sunday, November 05, 2006
I am one in a half million, and I am so proud
Well, 559,643 in the US to be more exact.
1,190,875 people in the US share my first name.
134,986 people share my last.
This out of 299,968,595 people in the US.
Reminds me of that Gary Larson cartoon "I just gotta be meee!"
Speaking of which, at Worth 1000 they had Far Side Tribute competition. In retelling the joke in a "real image" many of them are as hilarious as they ever were.
1,190,875 people in the US share my first name.
134,986 people share my last.
This out of 299,968,595 people in the US.
Reminds me of that Gary Larson cartoon "I just gotta be meee!"
Speaking of which, at Worth 1000 they had Far Side Tribute competition. In retelling the joke in a "real image" many of them are as hilarious as they ever were.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
stuff and more stuffness
1.
A personal New York first - I saw a super drunk guy puke on the train. He tried to get off the train but his friends wouldn't let him because it was one stop too early. And after the doors closed he spewed.
And half the train including ldbug and myself rushed to the other side of the car and switched subway cars at the next stop.
I think he knew which stop to get off from. He wanted to get off because he was feeling so sick.
2.
The car we ran into was also being occupied by a young man with a guitar who could actually play and sing quite well. So that was a welcome thing.
3.
ldbug and I were invited last minute to a Sausage Fest in Greenpoint. As Greenpoint is a very Polish part of town, we were unsure whether the invite indicated that the party would be a room full of sausages or a room full of "sausages." We will never know b/c we had a previous engagement to have dinner with nanowrimers. There was hearty ukranian food to be had and guilt. Three days into it and I have maybe 100 words.
4.
Favorite New York Picture to Date:
Found him ... er ... her ... er ... them.
5.
Had I been paying more attention to the things that really matter I probably would have signed up for nablopomo instead of nanowrimo this year. The brightside is that there's lots to read from momvee.
Go, V, Go!
6.
I think one of these months I am going to set out to read 100 blogs. I think it was something that I read about at the Pink Lemonade Diva's blog about Jennifer Garrett's blog. I think the RM will get pretty close to reading 100 blogs this year. I've got a long way to go if I want to catch up.
7.
Congrats are in order to misswg who has brought a lovely baby girl into this world!
A personal New York first - I saw a super drunk guy puke on the train. He tried to get off the train but his friends wouldn't let him because it was one stop too early. And after the doors closed he spewed.
And half the train including ldbug and myself rushed to the other side of the car and switched subway cars at the next stop.
I think he knew which stop to get off from. He wanted to get off because he was feeling so sick.
2.
The car we ran into was also being occupied by a young man with a guitar who could actually play and sing quite well. So that was a welcome thing.
3.
ldbug and I were invited last minute to a Sausage Fest in Greenpoint. As Greenpoint is a very Polish part of town, we were unsure whether the invite indicated that the party would be a room full of sausages or a room full of "sausages." We will never know b/c we had a previous engagement to have dinner with nanowrimers. There was hearty ukranian food to be had and guilt. Three days into it and I have maybe 100 words.
4.
Favorite New York Picture to Date:
Found him ... er ... her ... er ... them.
5.
Had I been paying more attention to the things that really matter I probably would have signed up for nablopomo instead of nanowrimo this year. The brightside is that there's lots to read from momvee.
Go, V, Go!
6.
I think one of these months I am going to set out to read 100 blogs. I think it was something that I read about at the Pink Lemonade Diva's blog about Jennifer Garrett's blog. I think the RM will get pretty close to reading 100 blogs this year. I've got a long way to go if I want to catch up.
7.
Congrats are in order to misswg who has brought a lovely baby girl into this world!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Late night blurtletts, other people's words, and edits
1.
"I been up, I been down
Take my word, my way around."
-ZZ Top
2.
Happy Novel Writing Month. 1667 words a day for one month. I thought I had two plots to choose from for this month. It turns out that I was all set to write "Don Quixote" or a novelization of "Unbreakable." So now it is November and like last year, I've got nothing. I felt like a great big nothing. But the email that Chris Baty sent out to all of us nanowrimo-er's cheered me up considerably.
"Novels are not written by novelists. Novels are written by everyday people who give themselves permission to write novels. Whatever your writing experience, you have a book in you that only you can write. And November is a beautiful month to get it written."
-Chris Baty
3.
While I do not like the Rod Stewart cover I have always liked the Tom Waits song "Downtown Train."
"Outside another yellow moon
has punched a hole in the nighttime"
-Tom Waits
So gorgeous. So lovely. So unlike much of his work.
But now, living in NY my frame of reference is shifted.
Observe -
"The downtown trains are full
Full of all them brooklyn girls
They try so hard to break out of their little worlds
You wave your hand and they scatter like crows
They have nothing that'll ever capture your heart
They're just thorns without the rose
Be careful of them in the dark"
-Tom Waits
*bristle*
Now that I am a brooklyn girl, I take offense. I do spend a fair amount of time on the downtown trains. It's how I get to work. But I like my little world. Were it not for the museums, a few friends, and my job I might spend a good deal less time on the trains and more time in my corner of the 5 burroughs. Mr. Waits, you can take your diss on brooklyn girls and sit on it. For four months I have been a brooklyn girl. My laugh triggers avalanches and my smile melts ice caps.
4.
I have very positive associations with Halloween. I like dressing up and seeing other people dress up. It's an instant conversation starter. There are alwys parties and they are usually pretty fun. Added to that in my past Halloween was always a great time to meet cute boys when single. Many a boyfriend was met on a cold autumn night while in costume. Of all holidays, Halloween has always had the most hookup potential. (Thanksgiving usually has the least.)
Until now. There was no love connection on Halloween. Whatever "it" was that I used to have is apparently insufficient to captivate the men of NY. Or maybe I just haven't got "it" anymore. Perhaps I have merely misplaced it. Except with the creepy guys. I have had a few occassions in which I accidentally smiled at the wrong stranger and had to contend with creepiness or unattractive pushyness. Then again, creepy guys probably respond to anything with a pulse that makes eye contact.
"Once I had a love from the Georgia Pines who only cared for me
I wanna find that love of 22 here at 33
Got a heart on my right and one on my left and neither suits my needs
No the one I love is a way out west and he never will need me."
-Nanci Griffith
Oddly, while there was no love connection happening I got hit with the love bomb today. A warm feeling of love without a person to associate it with. It reminds me of an email I got once from ER* who said something to the effect that part of what made the breakup so hard was that he had all this love with no recipient, no object. No one to express it to.
In a bout of seasonal pavlovian-ity Halloween has triggered a free floating feeling of love. *slaps forehead*
*I tried to poach ER from another gal during his painful but civilized and friendly breakup which of course lead to their getting back together. I took a page from the "I'm there for you" episode of Seinfeld. After their reunion I feel a bit ashamed of myself. The attempt to poach a man in relationship limbo - pathetic.
"You don't know. How desperate I've become and it looks like I'm losing this fight"
-John Waits
5.
Brad Will (36) was shot and died in Oaxaca City Mexico. He was an indymedia journalist and documentary film maker who went to see what was going on. He was shot by pro-government paramilitary folks. I would say more but it's kinda hard to figure out exactly what's going on down there. Poverty, corruption, oppression, a call for resignation, protests and strikes, a protracted teachers' strike, military and paramiltary action ... ? Which, I think, is why he went down there to begin with. Because there is serious stuff going on down there and there are important stories to tell.
"I came here to see some stuff for myself. Why leave the telling up to everybody else?"
-Ani DiFranco
RIP: Brad Will. I read the news and shed tears. In the face of great injustice and suffering that is insufficient, no?
What is required is action.
"I been up, I been down
Take my word, my way around."
-ZZ Top
2.
Happy Novel Writing Month. 1667 words a day for one month. I thought I had two plots to choose from for this month. It turns out that I was all set to write "Don Quixote" or a novelization of "Unbreakable." So now it is November and like last year, I've got nothing. I felt like a great big nothing. But the email that Chris Baty sent out to all of us nanowrimo-er's cheered me up considerably.
"Novels are not written by novelists. Novels are written by everyday people who give themselves permission to write novels. Whatever your writing experience, you have a book in you that only you can write. And November is a beautiful month to get it written."
-Chris Baty
3.
While I do not like the Rod Stewart cover I have always liked the Tom Waits song "Downtown Train."
"Outside another yellow moon
has punched a hole in the nighttime"
-Tom Waits
So gorgeous. So lovely. So unlike much of his work.
But now, living in NY my frame of reference is shifted.
Observe -
"The downtown trains are full
Full of all them brooklyn girls
They try so hard to break out of their little worlds
You wave your hand and they scatter like crows
They have nothing that'll ever capture your heart
They're just thorns without the rose
Be careful of them in the dark"
-Tom Waits
*bristle*
Now that I am a brooklyn girl, I take offense. I do spend a fair amount of time on the downtown trains. It's how I get to work. But I like my little world. Were it not for the museums, a few friends, and my job I might spend a good deal less time on the trains and more time in my corner of the 5 burroughs. Mr. Waits, you can take your diss on brooklyn girls and sit on it. For four months I have been a brooklyn girl. My laugh triggers avalanches and my smile melts ice caps.
4.
I have very positive associations with Halloween. I like dressing up and seeing other people dress up. It's an instant conversation starter. There are alwys parties and they are usually pretty fun. Added to that in my past Halloween was always a great time to meet cute boys when single. Many a boyfriend was met on a cold autumn night while in costume. Of all holidays, Halloween has always had the most hookup potential. (Thanksgiving usually has the least.)
Until now. There was no love connection on Halloween. Whatever "it" was that I used to have is apparently insufficient to captivate the men of NY. Or maybe I just haven't got "it" anymore. Perhaps I have merely misplaced it. Except with the creepy guys. I have had a few occassions in which I accidentally smiled at the wrong stranger and had to contend with creepiness or unattractive pushyness. Then again, creepy guys probably respond to anything with a pulse that makes eye contact.
"Once I had a love from the Georgia Pines who only cared for me
I wanna find that love of 22 here at 33
Got a heart on my right and one on my left and neither suits my needs
No the one I love is a way out west and he never will need me."
-Nanci Griffith
Oddly, while there was no love connection happening I got hit with the love bomb today. A warm feeling of love without a person to associate it with. It reminds me of an email I got once from ER* who said something to the effect that part of what made the breakup so hard was that he had all this love with no recipient, no object. No one to express it to.
In a bout of seasonal pavlovian-ity Halloween has triggered a free floating feeling of love. *slaps forehead*
*I tried to poach ER from another gal during his painful but civilized and friendly breakup which of course lead to their getting back together. I took a page from the "I'm there for you" episode of Seinfeld. After their reunion I feel a bit ashamed of myself. The attempt to poach a man in relationship limbo - pathetic.
"You don't know. How desperate I've become and it looks like I'm losing this fight"
-John Waits
5.
Brad Will (36) was shot and died in Oaxaca City Mexico. He was an indymedia journalist and documentary film maker who went to see what was going on. He was shot by pro-government paramilitary folks. I would say more but it's kinda hard to figure out exactly what's going on down there. Poverty, corruption, oppression, a call for resignation, protests and strikes, a protracted teachers' strike, military and paramiltary action ... ? Which, I think, is why he went down there to begin with. Because there is serious stuff going on down there and there are important stories to tell.
"I came here to see some stuff for myself. Why leave the telling up to everybody else?"
-Ani DiFranco
RIP: Brad Will. I read the news and shed tears. In the face of great injustice and suffering that is insufficient, no?
What is required is action.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Not to mention all the Picassos
Went to the Whitney Museum with PS on Sunday.
Two of the four floors of art were open.
Top floor visiting exhibit of Edward Hopper.
He did that painting of a diner at night called "Night Hawks"
from www.assumption.edu
I gotta say. Some of the paintings were kind of awkward or so-so.
But then there were some paintings - my god. There was serious passion in the paints. The light, the colors, the shadows. Wow.
Beyond his artistry and the early paintings, the self portraits, and illustrations they had his sketches.
Sketch after sketch as a preparation for doing the painting.
It was awesome to get a peek into the process, the practice, the choices.
Staircase? No staircase? Curtain? Yes? No? This angle vs. that angle.
It was great to have that evidence of the craft and discipline in art. "Night Hawks" didn't just happen. It did not spring from Hopper's mind fully formed. A process brought it into being.
Ducks look serene floating on the lake but under the surface those legs are a-paddling.
Two of the four floors of art were open.
Top floor visiting exhibit of Edward Hopper.
He did that painting of a diner at night called "Night Hawks"
from www.assumption.edu
I gotta say. Some of the paintings were kind of awkward or so-so.
But then there were some paintings - my god. There was serious passion in the paints. The light, the colors, the shadows. Wow.
Beyond his artistry and the early paintings, the self portraits, and illustrations they had his sketches.
Sketch after sketch as a preparation for doing the painting.
It was awesome to get a peek into the process, the practice, the choices.
Staircase? No staircase? Curtain? Yes? No? This angle vs. that angle.
It was great to have that evidence of the craft and discipline in art. "Night Hawks" didn't just happen. It did not spring from Hopper's mind fully formed. A process brought it into being.
Ducks look serene floating on the lake but under the surface those legs are a-paddling.
Monday, October 23, 2006
It's fun hearing my roomate converse with her mother by phone.
At points she struggles to get a word in edgewise.
So cute.
At points she struggles to get a word in edgewise.
So cute.
it's all in the associations
One of the many irritating things about using microsoft office at work has recent done a 180 degree turn for me.
I hate the Paper Clip. It's irritating to have a Paper Clip with eyeballs hover around you and interrupt you offering unsolicited advice.
In clicking around somehow I got to a menu that allowed me to choose the character of the help icon. Now it's a cute orange kittycat. She purrs and naps and presses her paws against the pane of the monitor. When she has a suggestion she sits patiently with a little lightbulb hovering over her. And what was an irritation is now a cute and helpful pet.
Someone needs to write me a script so I can give her a saucer of cream.
I hate the Paper Clip. It's irritating to have a Paper Clip with eyeballs hover around you and interrupt you offering unsolicited advice.
In clicking around somehow I got to a menu that allowed me to choose the character of the help icon. Now it's a cute orange kittycat. She purrs and naps and presses her paws against the pane of the monitor. When she has a suggestion she sits patiently with a little lightbulb hovering over her. And what was an irritation is now a cute and helpful pet.
Someone needs to write me a script so I can give her a saucer of cream.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Finishing School
Back in the day families could send their daughters to finishing school where they could learn the womanly arts. And train to be gracious and ladylike. For all the education (and miseducation) I have had, it occurs to me that I might want to find one.
Because I eat like:
from www.designedtoat.com
and
from www.mac.umaine.edu
I laugh like:
from www.myworldfarm.com
I converse like:
from www.wunderground.com
I blow my nose like the mating call of:
from www.nhptv.org
and I party like:
from www.bristolzoo.org.uk
Uh, yeah. So if you have any recommendations I am all ears.
Because I eat like:
from www.designedtoat.com
and
from www.mac.umaine.edu
I laugh like:
from www.myworldfarm.com
I converse like:
from www.wunderground.com
I blow my nose like the mating call of:
from www.nhptv.org
and I party like:
from www.bristolzoo.org.uk
Uh, yeah. So if you have any recommendations I am all ears.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Who wears the pants on this planet?
"The US Trade Representative has been threatening to scuttle Russia's entry into the World Trade Organization if they don't shut down AllOfMP3, but nobody in Russia seems to care much about WTO membership. Sitting on one of the world's largest oil reserves makes membership in the WTO somewhat moot -- Russia will always be able to find trading partners."
Article Posted to Boing Boing
Leads me to wonder if having oil is like being veeery good looking - you can get away with anythyhing.
Maybe it's more like, if you have oil and nuclear weapons you can get away with anything.
*Then imagine if you were veeery good looking on top of all that?*
Article Posted to Boing Boing
Leads me to wonder if having oil is like being veeery good looking - you can get away with anythyhing.
Maybe it's more like, if you have oil and nuclear weapons you can get away with anything.
*Then imagine if you were veeery good looking on top of all that?*
Monday, October 16, 2006
Things to do in November
1. Write a Novel
Don't lie to me or yourself about this. You know you want to. There is no time like November for doin' it. www.nanowrimo.org So do it.
2. um, what else is there?
Don't lie to me or yourself about this. You know you want to. There is no time like November for doin' it. www.nanowrimo.org So do it.
2. um, what else is there?
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Bachelor girl moments
I wandered around the apartment ignoring the mountain of dirty dishes that inhibit food preparation looking for something to eat. My late late brunch was looking like a bottle of orange flavored seltzer water and a box of stale triscuits. Until I thought to myself, "Don't I have a piece of fruit somewhere? In my purse or something?" Et Voila! A lone bruised plum purchased for lunch sometime during the week, placed in the purse, transported all over, forgotten, and rediscovered.
Oh happy day!
Until I finish ... and need to look for more food.
Oh happy day!
Until I finish ... and need to look for more food.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
digital or material?
An eternity ago I sent out an email survey to all of my friends:
In the Middle Ages there were monks who devoted their lives to the preservation of the written word.
They spent day after day copying books. They wrote them out by hand.
If a nuclear holocaust (or some other global disaster that would destroy civilization as we know it) happened and the Dark Ages returned, and it was up to you to preserve one book. A book you could only preserve by writing it out by hand. A book that would cease to exist without you - what book would you choose?
I got some really interesting responses and I never sent out the results. I should actually dig them up.
A lot of people said that they would copy the dictionary.
PRC said that he wouldn't have time to copy a book in the event of a global disaster. But he had a list of books that he would hermeticaly seal and store in his basement.
A few people said that they could probably keep up with more than one book. (these were my favorite responses.)
Momvee was committed to preserving "I Capture the Castle" by Dodie Smith. I think she was interested in preserving a second book by Ms. Smith the title fo which escapes me.
I had never come up with my own answer. It is so hard to choose. I think I might copy "Pride and Prejudice" or "Wind in the Willows" or "Microserfs" because I would enjoy that work. I guilt trip myself thinking that it would be more important to posterity to preserve "The Origin of the Species" or some weightier more meaningful book.
Nobody mentioned the Bible or Aristotle or Plato. Perhaps a very ambitious person might tackle the Encyclopedia Britannica. Or a print out of all of the pages of Wikipedia in the state they are right now.
I ask myself what book has been published in the past 36 years that encompasses what we know, what we have learned, how we felt, what we thought, did and believed and what happened. That book is probably different for each 36 year old on the planet today. In a time where we drown in a sea of information what record do we have of our collective wisdom? What is worth knowing?
Some people at a party some years ago were discussing how digital media have such short lifespans. Systems and machines become outdated, software devices wear out - tapes, diskettes, CD's, DVD's. I don't know how it is now but back in the day a very strong magnet could wipe your hard drive. i was happy to point out that clay tablets the Sumerians had to keep track of grain in the storehouse - they've survived pretty damn long and some of them are still legible as well.
They were not impressed.
The RM (roomate) and I were at the Metropolitan Museum in the Egyptian section and she pointed to a scribe and declared that he was our historical antecedent. Which is so true. And all of those papyrus scrolls covered in writing and drawings are not that different from the kind of work and output that is expected of us at Big Scienceville(TM). Although I wonder if an archaeologist will ever find one of my spreadsheets or her powerpoint presentations. And if she did, could she read it?
It was funny to see that we were the same scribes in a different age.
It doesn't seem like the world is going to end in the near future so I think we can just scan all those books and have them stored as pdf's in a big distributed digital library. At least that's what people tell me about the world of the future. We are spared writer's cramp and can go back to coping with our carpal tunel.
In the Middle Ages there were monks who devoted their lives to the preservation of the written word.
They spent day after day copying books. They wrote them out by hand.
If a nuclear holocaust (or some other global disaster that would destroy civilization as we know it) happened and the Dark Ages returned, and it was up to you to preserve one book. A book you could only preserve by writing it out by hand. A book that would cease to exist without you - what book would you choose?
I got some really interesting responses and I never sent out the results. I should actually dig them up.
A lot of people said that they would copy the dictionary.
PRC said that he wouldn't have time to copy a book in the event of a global disaster. But he had a list of books that he would hermeticaly seal and store in his basement.
A few people said that they could probably keep up with more than one book. (these were my favorite responses.)
Momvee was committed to preserving "I Capture the Castle" by Dodie Smith. I think she was interested in preserving a second book by Ms. Smith the title fo which escapes me.
I had never come up with my own answer. It is so hard to choose. I think I might copy "Pride and Prejudice" or "Wind in the Willows" or "Microserfs" because I would enjoy that work. I guilt trip myself thinking that it would be more important to posterity to preserve "The Origin of the Species" or some weightier more meaningful book.
Nobody mentioned the Bible or Aristotle or Plato. Perhaps a very ambitious person might tackle the Encyclopedia Britannica. Or a print out of all of the pages of Wikipedia in the state they are right now.
I ask myself what book has been published in the past 36 years that encompasses what we know, what we have learned, how we felt, what we thought, did and believed and what happened. That book is probably different for each 36 year old on the planet today. In a time where we drown in a sea of information what record do we have of our collective wisdom? What is worth knowing?
Some people at a party some years ago were discussing how digital media have such short lifespans. Systems and machines become outdated, software devices wear out - tapes, diskettes, CD's, DVD's. I don't know how it is now but back in the day a very strong magnet could wipe your hard drive. i was happy to point out that clay tablets the Sumerians had to keep track of grain in the storehouse - they've survived pretty damn long and some of them are still legible as well.
They were not impressed.
The RM (roomate) and I were at the Metropolitan Museum in the Egyptian section and she pointed to a scribe and declared that he was our historical antecedent. Which is so true. And all of those papyrus scrolls covered in writing and drawings are not that different from the kind of work and output that is expected of us at Big Scienceville(TM). Although I wonder if an archaeologist will ever find one of my spreadsheets or her powerpoint presentations. And if she did, could she read it?
It was funny to see that we were the same scribes in a different age.
It doesn't seem like the world is going to end in the near future so I think we can just scan all those books and have them stored as pdf's in a big distributed digital library. At least that's what people tell me about the world of the future. We are spared writer's cramp and can go back to coping with our carpal tunel.
Monday, September 25, 2006
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?
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?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
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!
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
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
Thursday, September 14, 2006
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?
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
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?
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.
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.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
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.)
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.)
Saturday, September 02, 2006
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 ...
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 ...
Monday, August 28, 2006
ain't nothin' but a heartache
I don't do YouTube. Except when my friends make me.
The RM was watching this YouTube video.
It's the one of the two chinese guys lipsynching to the Backstreet Boys.
I almost wet myself.
The RM was watching this YouTube video.
It's the one of the two chinese guys lipsynching to the Backstreet Boys.
I almost wet myself.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
It Happens in Phases
I sit in an open office 5 days a week for about 8+ hours.
Unless I step out for lunch or to do an errand in which case I'd call it 7+ hours.
And with each day there are prevailing and passing moods.
Anger
Boredom
Frustration
Focus
Fear
Anxiety
Envy
Loneliness
Congeniality
Disappointment
Relief
A sense of belonging
A sense of futility
Recklessness
Competence
Inspiration
A desire to dance
A desire to sing
A desire to hug people
Exhaustion
Accomplishment
Uncertainty
Stress
Sleepiness
Confusion
Excitement
Engagement
Overwhelmedness
A feeling of fuck-you-go-to-hell ness
Heartbreak
Misery
Happiness
Joy
Satisfaction
Gratitude
Hunger
Overextendedness
Wonder
Amusement
Surprise
Today I felt weightless. Like I was entirely disconnected from the ground, the world, everyone around me, everyone I know. With the smallest push I would lift away from my chair, my desk, and float through the ceiling up up up up into the void. And no one would hear me calling to them. No one would see me so far away and so deep in the dark of space and I would start to expand and pull apart in the vacuum of space, pieces of me pulled towards other things. And I thought to myself, "I have no one to tether me. No one to pull me back if I push off. What can I grab onto?"
It was strange and scary. And I thought to myself, "It's just me. I have to stop myself, keep myself from drifting away." And I looked around and couldn't find anything to hold onto. Nothing to anchor me. And I tried to think of who I could call. If I called you, for instance, and asked you: "What you do on the days that you forget to pay the gravity bill?" What would you say? What is it that holds you in place and to the ground? A person? A promise? A thought or belief? A thing? A memory? A really big rock? What? If anything ...
I looked around me and everything seemed so distant and transient. And I thought about how if I could make a sound, if I could articulate this thing happening to me an ask for help, someone might turn to me and say "Grab my hand! I got gravity to spare this month."
I thought about how I needed to confer weight to myself and everything in my life. I thought about how I needed to take the wisps of life in my hands and see them weighty and meaningful - significant. Because right now no one else will. Perhaps no one else is supposed to.
In a world light on meaning, what imparts significance comes from the minds and hearts of its inhabitants.
Over the course of the day I could feel it passing.
I hover a little but I can feel that my soles are making decent contact with the floor.
I am still here. I put a wrench in my pocket. In case the gravity gives out again. I want to have something to throw to help propel me back down.
Unless I step out for lunch or to do an errand in which case I'd call it 7+ hours.
And with each day there are prevailing and passing moods.
Anger
Boredom
Frustration
Focus
Fear
Anxiety
Envy
Loneliness
Congeniality
Disappointment
Relief
A sense of belonging
A sense of futility
Recklessness
Competence
Inspiration
A desire to dance
A desire to sing
A desire to hug people
Exhaustion
Accomplishment
Uncertainty
Stress
Sleepiness
Confusion
Excitement
Engagement
Overwhelmedness
A feeling of fuck-you-go-to-hell ness
Heartbreak
Misery
Happiness
Joy
Satisfaction
Gratitude
Hunger
Overextendedness
Wonder
Amusement
Surprise
Today I felt weightless. Like I was entirely disconnected from the ground, the world, everyone around me, everyone I know. With the smallest push I would lift away from my chair, my desk, and float through the ceiling up up up up into the void. And no one would hear me calling to them. No one would see me so far away and so deep in the dark of space and I would start to expand and pull apart in the vacuum of space, pieces of me pulled towards other things. And I thought to myself, "I have no one to tether me. No one to pull me back if I push off. What can I grab onto?"
It was strange and scary. And I thought to myself, "It's just me. I have to stop myself, keep myself from drifting away." And I looked around and couldn't find anything to hold onto. Nothing to anchor me. And I tried to think of who I could call. If I called you, for instance, and asked you: "What you do on the days that you forget to pay the gravity bill?" What would you say? What is it that holds you in place and to the ground? A person? A promise? A thought or belief? A thing? A memory? A really big rock? What? If anything ...
I looked around me and everything seemed so distant and transient. And I thought about how if I could make a sound, if I could articulate this thing happening to me an ask for help, someone might turn to me and say "Grab my hand! I got gravity to spare this month."
I thought about how I needed to confer weight to myself and everything in my life. I thought about how I needed to take the wisps of life in my hands and see them weighty and meaningful - significant. Because right now no one else will. Perhaps no one else is supposed to.
In a world light on meaning, what imparts significance comes from the minds and hearts of its inhabitants.
Over the course of the day I could feel it passing.
I hover a little but I can feel that my soles are making decent contact with the floor.
I am still here. I put a wrench in my pocket. In case the gravity gives out again. I want to have something to throw to help propel me back down.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I don't like Michael Noer - and I've never even met him
Forbes Magazine published an opinion piece by Michael Noer entitled "Don't Marry Career Women." He advises men to steer clear of feminists and working women and educated women, especially those "career girls" with a university-level (or higher)education and make more than $30,000 a year.
Michael Noer uses published findings by social scientists to argue that marriages are more stable when women are less educated and don't work.
"Well, despite the fact that the link between work, women and divorce rates is complex and controversial, much of the reasoning is based on a lot of economic theory and a bit of common sense. In classic economics, a marriage is, at least in part, an exercise in labor specialization. "
Here the cart is leading the horse. The explanations are not drawn from the data. They are draped across the data. The same arguments that we have heard over and over again to justify restricting a women's world to a domestic one. When's the last time you've observed the world to conform to classic economic theory?
It is embarassing and infuritating to have a magazine like Forbes pay someone like Michael Noer to write an opinion piece that blames women for the ills of society, that blames women for high divorce rates, that blames women for infidelity, and blames women for their own unhappiness and the unhappiness of men.
It takes two to tango.
What Mr. Noer glosses over (even while mentioning in passing) in the midst of all of this research is :
"A few other studies, which have focused on employment (as opposed to working hours) have concluded that working outside the home actually increases marital stability, at least when the marriage is a happy one. But even in these studies, wives' employment does correlate positively to divorce rates, when the marriage is of "low marital quality." " (my italices)
Which suggests to me that marriages are stable when they are happy. And perhaps a happy marriage in whatever configuration is a rare and precious thing.
The difference between yesterday and today is that women have the option to leave unhappy marriages. They are not forced by economic inequity to stay in unhappy marriages.
That to me is a good thing.
Forbes Magazine and Michael Noer can suck my ass. Sexist Fucktards. Both of them disappoint me.
Michael Noer uses published findings by social scientists to argue that marriages are more stable when women are less educated and don't work.
"Well, despite the fact that the link between work, women and divorce rates is complex and controversial, much of the reasoning is based on a lot of economic theory and a bit of common sense. In classic economics, a marriage is, at least in part, an exercise in labor specialization. "
Here the cart is leading the horse. The explanations are not drawn from the data. They are draped across the data. The same arguments that we have heard over and over again to justify restricting a women's world to a domestic one. When's the last time you've observed the world to conform to classic economic theory?
It is embarassing and infuritating to have a magazine like Forbes pay someone like Michael Noer to write an opinion piece that blames women for the ills of society, that blames women for high divorce rates, that blames women for infidelity, and blames women for their own unhappiness and the unhappiness of men.
It takes two to tango.
What Mr. Noer glosses over (even while mentioning in passing) in the midst of all of this research is :
"A few other studies, which have focused on employment (as opposed to working hours) have concluded that working outside the home actually increases marital stability, at least when the marriage is a happy one. But even in these studies, wives' employment does correlate positively to divorce rates, when the marriage is of "low marital quality." " (my italices)
Which suggests to me that marriages are stable when they are happy. And perhaps a happy marriage in whatever configuration is a rare and precious thing.
The difference between yesterday and today is that women have the option to leave unhappy marriages. They are not forced by economic inequity to stay in unhappy marriages.
That to me is a good thing.
Forbes Magazine and Michael Noer can suck my ass. Sexist Fucktards. Both of them disappoint me.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
well fuck.
Even though you know it's coming.
You have known that it was coming since very early on.
Even having a clear awareness, an understanding of the inevitable.
Every explanation rational or imaginable.
When it arrives, and maybe it arrives late, say by about two months -
it's still a punch in the gut or a flash of light outside of the peripheral vision
requiring that you sit down holding your head.
Stunned.
And then after a spell it starts to register that you got hit.
And then it starts to register that it hurt.
And then maybe your eyes fill up and you start to cry.
And you know you got hit because you were too much of a pussy to take responsibility for your own shit.
You were too much of a pussy to throw the punch.
*meow*
Then again, maybe it's not you.
Maybe it's not you.
Maybe it's me.
You have known that it was coming since very early on.
Even having a clear awareness, an understanding of the inevitable.
Every explanation rational or imaginable.
When it arrives, and maybe it arrives late, say by about two months -
it's still a punch in the gut or a flash of light outside of the peripheral vision
requiring that you sit down holding your head.
Stunned.
And then after a spell it starts to register that you got hit.
And then it starts to register that it hurt.
And then maybe your eyes fill up and you start to cry.
And you know you got hit because you were too much of a pussy to take responsibility for your own shit.
You were too much of a pussy to throw the punch.
*meow*
Then again, maybe it's not you.
Maybe it's not you.
Maybe it's me.
Monday, August 14, 2006
zero to sixty in seconds
"Life is about the moment" he says leaning in towards her.
"I disagree," she says, "I think life is about character. The important thing is to live life in a way that is true to the self."
At which point he accuses her of being judgemental and narrow minded putting her on the defensive.
"memory is oxygen for life," he said taking her hands and pulling her close.
"I don't agree," she replies. "What sustains the fire of life is love and hate, hunger, need, tears and conflict, passion, obsession, obligation, greed, laughter ..."
"So you agree with me," he said placing his hands on her waist. "Look into my eyes. Tell me what you think." His hands slide from her waist to her ass.
Clearly, he doesn't care what she thinks as he pulls her in closer still - insisting that he knows her mind better than she does.
Really, he thinks that he can tell her what she thinks and what she desires. He tells her that he is what she desires. And thinks that if he says it enough, she will accept it to be true. If he says it enough she will let down her guard and take him. Perhaps she might even allow herself to be taken too.
All this in a span of minutes in the kitchen after meeting.
*sheeee-uht*
Is it too much to ask that the Bastard take her for dinner and drinks first?
"I disagree," she says, "I think life is about character. The important thing is to live life in a way that is true to the self."
At which point he accuses her of being judgemental and narrow minded putting her on the defensive.
"memory is oxygen for life," he said taking her hands and pulling her close.
"I don't agree," she replies. "What sustains the fire of life is love and hate, hunger, need, tears and conflict, passion, obsession, obligation, greed, laughter ..."
"So you agree with me," he said placing his hands on her waist. "Look into my eyes. Tell me what you think." His hands slide from her waist to her ass.
Clearly, he doesn't care what she thinks as he pulls her in closer still - insisting that he knows her mind better than she does.
Really, he thinks that he can tell her what she thinks and what she desires. He tells her that he is what she desires. And thinks that if he says it enough, she will accept it to be true. If he says it enough she will let down her guard and take him. Perhaps she might even allow herself to be taken too.
All this in a span of minutes in the kitchen after meeting.
*sheeee-uht*
Is it too much to ask that the Bastard take her for dinner and drinks first?
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Good times never seemed so good ...
The Brooklyn Cyclones played in Coney Island at Keyspan park. I took the F train down to the end of the line and walked two blocks to the stadium to catch the game.
The Cyclones are a farm team for the NY Met's. I was told at the game that they are a single A team which makes them minor in the minor leagues. Being there made me think of the movie "Bull Durham." Every time the catcher took a time out to walk out to confer with the pitcher I imagined that they were dicussing bridal registries or whether or not to hit the mascot on the next pitch.
I thought while sitting out there that it was a great day to kick back with some friends and a beer and take in a game. 8,633 people were of the same mind on this one. I didn't have a beer and I was in the stands with co-workers whom I don't know but hey ... it ws still nice to kick back. I actually followed the game - which I have not done in the handful of times I have been to the ballpark.
As a single A team they seem to avoid having the kind of rabid angry fans that are intensely insanely competitive and guaranteed to spoil your viewing pleasure. And since it's baseball there's lots of downtime as teams cross the field and get ready to play offense or defense. Baseball is a slow game. Being there and focusing on the game slowed me down to its pace. Which was nice.
We won 6-5. At the 7th inning stretch in Keyspan Park they play "Take me out to the ballgame" they also play the chorus to "Sweet Caroline."
And on the walk back I took in the lights of the Coney Island amusement park, couples arm in arm, parents herding their children, and the smell of funnel cakes.
I wanna go back and make a day of it - do the whole Coney Island thing. Ride the rollercoaster. Get the so bad for you carnival foods. Have Nathan's hot dog. Blow money on stupid games for stupider prizes. Walk the boardwalk. And take in another Cyclones game.
The Cyclones are a farm team for the NY Met's. I was told at the game that they are a single A team which makes them minor in the minor leagues. Being there made me think of the movie "Bull Durham." Every time the catcher took a time out to walk out to confer with the pitcher I imagined that they were dicussing bridal registries or whether or not to hit the mascot on the next pitch.
I thought while sitting out there that it was a great day to kick back with some friends and a beer and take in a game. 8,633 people were of the same mind on this one. I didn't have a beer and I was in the stands with co-workers whom I don't know but hey ... it ws still nice to kick back. I actually followed the game - which I have not done in the handful of times I have been to the ballpark.
As a single A team they seem to avoid having the kind of rabid angry fans that are intensely insanely competitive and guaranteed to spoil your viewing pleasure. And since it's baseball there's lots of downtime as teams cross the field and get ready to play offense or defense. Baseball is a slow game. Being there and focusing on the game slowed me down to its pace. Which was nice.
We won 6-5. At the 7th inning stretch in Keyspan Park they play "Take me out to the ballgame" they also play the chorus to "Sweet Caroline."
And on the walk back I took in the lights of the Coney Island amusement park, couples arm in arm, parents herding their children, and the smell of funnel cakes.
I wanna go back and make a day of it - do the whole Coney Island thing. Ride the rollercoaster. Get the so bad for you carnival foods. Have Nathan's hot dog. Blow money on stupid games for stupider prizes. Walk the boardwalk. And take in another Cyclones game.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
never enough Z's
I would like to see a new sleeping pill on the market.
The sleeping pills currently available are designed to
help you fall asleep.
I want a pill that makes me feel alert and rested.
A pill that could replace sleeping or stave off the
desire for it.
Cuz right now. It's all I can think about.
Placing my wee head on the pillow and closing my eyes
and having that dream where I slide down the world's
longest slide (which is probably in Florida), the air
rushing through my hair and at the bottom I fly out
and float down into the soft dark embrace of sleep.
----
It's my own damn fault. I should just get to bed
earlier. *shrug*
The sleeping pills currently available are designed to
help you fall asleep.
I want a pill that makes me feel alert and rested.
A pill that could replace sleeping or stave off the
desire for it.
Cuz right now. It's all I can think about.
Placing my wee head on the pillow and closing my eyes
and having that dream where I slide down the world's
longest slide (which is probably in Florida), the air
rushing through my hair and at the bottom I fly out
and float down into the soft dark embrace of sleep.
----
It's my own damn fault. I should just get to bed
earlier. *shrug*
Monday, August 07, 2006
like a record baby
songs that accompany me on the subway - because I always forget to recharge my ipod
For the longest time I couldn't stop singing "Copacabana." I like to blame JS for this knowing full well that I was the one who chose to step into this trap. It is in fact a sad song. Be not fooled by the catchy magic of the Mannilow the song is about passion murder and an inconsolable loss of love.
And then it was "Under the Boardwalk." A homeless guy on the subway was playing two chords that are not in this song singing a jumble of lyrics from the song with a made up a melody. It occurred to me that he probably didn't know any other chords because he sang the lyrics to another song with another made up melody to those two chords. He had a lovely velvety voice. Someone should teach him a few Seal covers.
And then it was "Swandive." Because EO is going through a painful breakup and his take on it is that you can take the feeling of falling and turn it into a Swandive. "just spread them wings and feel the breeze and smile on the way." Reading it makes my stomach drop. It is a level of openess that I do not know if I will ever reach. And the recklessness in Ani's song wrenches at my guts in much the same way. (I have said it differently in my own life. Probably even in this damn blog. That a broken heart will heal back. It is your choice as to whether it heals back closed and tight or bigger and more open. But of course for my part the theory is a long way from the practice.)
And then it was " 6"1' " On the subway platform I asked myself if it took a city like Chicago to bring forth Liz Phair. I wondered to myself if there were future indie queens in NYC who were mixing their own girlysounds. Maybe every other woman on the train is Manhattan's answer to Liz Phair. I owe Ms. Phair a cycle of songs about vibrators and microwaveable foods. (Does it count that I sang about vibrators on tour?)
And then it was The Shins "So Says I" the song has a crowded mouthful of words tripping over each other rushed pushed feeling to it that makes my feel my heartbeat faster in my throat. I think of it in the mornings crowding into and spilling off the train to get from A to B.
red dye revolt
At the local laundromat half the dryers and most of the washing machines are broken. Some of the broken ones do not have signs on them. The only indicator that there is something wrong is that the attendant will yell at you when you try to load your clothes in them.
Some of the machines only run hot water. Which I discovered only after starting a load of darks. Lucky I sort dark from light as the two red shirts in there would have made for a lifetime of pink button down shirts. The water was the color of Hawaiian Punch through every cycle. I was saved from a classic rookie laundry mishap. Still, some of my underwear have an odd pinky cast to them now.
summer in a glass
Had my first mojito on Friday. It was as N had described it: summer in a glass. Fruity, sweet, and cooling. Since I moved to Brooklyn I can count on my left hand the number of days I have gone without having a drink. This situation is the opposite of many of my friends who on leaving grad school exclaimed that they drank so much less than they used did in grad school.
Drinking in grad school always being associated with the misery of poverty, repeated failure, an environment where a cloud of guilt hands over you because the work is never done and you are always being evaluated on one level or another. *sigh* Those were good times. (You think I jest when I say that. But lately when I think of grad school it calls to mind what Steve Dunne says in the movie "Singles" -"we had good times and we had bad times, but we had times. ")
"We had times." Amen to that.
So yeah, I've been drinking. Not with great abandon but with a constancy that probably wears at my liver and teases apart the tangle of neural spaghetti in my head. Perhaps for the better. Things have always been a bit scrambled up there and a little cell death might clear things up. Allow for a bit of judicious pruning. Who knows.
It might just be that regular work will drive a girl to drink.
a rose by any other name is rebranding
I overheard a conversation in the office about how "40 is the new 30." On my 35th birthday AG called to let me know that "30 is the new 20." I have heard that "Orange is the new pink." In case you were wondering, "I am the new you."
the reason I started this post
I wish the term "straight edge" had come into the common parlance when I was a teenager. I could have declared myself to be straight edge as opposed to being that cheerful dork who didn't drink, smoke or take mind altering substances.
For the longest time I couldn't stop singing "Copacabana." I like to blame JS for this knowing full well that I was the one who chose to step into this trap. It is in fact a sad song. Be not fooled by the catchy magic of the Mannilow the song is about passion murder and an inconsolable loss of love.
And then it was "Under the Boardwalk." A homeless guy on the subway was playing two chords that are not in this song singing a jumble of lyrics from the song with a made up a melody. It occurred to me that he probably didn't know any other chords because he sang the lyrics to another song with another made up melody to those two chords. He had a lovely velvety voice. Someone should teach him a few Seal covers.
And then it was "Swandive." Because EO is going through a painful breakup and his take on it is that you can take the feeling of falling and turn it into a Swandive. "just spread them wings and feel the breeze and smile on the way." Reading it makes my stomach drop. It is a level of openess that I do not know if I will ever reach. And the recklessness in Ani's song wrenches at my guts in much the same way. (I have said it differently in my own life. Probably even in this damn blog. That a broken heart will heal back. It is your choice as to whether it heals back closed and tight or bigger and more open. But of course for my part the theory is a long way from the practice.)
And then it was " 6"1' " On the subway platform I asked myself if it took a city like Chicago to bring forth Liz Phair. I wondered to myself if there were future indie queens in NYC who were mixing their own girlysounds. Maybe every other woman on the train is Manhattan's answer to Liz Phair. I owe Ms. Phair a cycle of songs about vibrators and microwaveable foods. (Does it count that I sang about vibrators on tour?)
And then it was The Shins "So Says I" the song has a crowded mouthful of words tripping over each other rushed pushed feeling to it that makes my feel my heartbeat faster in my throat. I think of it in the mornings crowding into and spilling off the train to get from A to B.
red dye revolt
At the local laundromat half the dryers and most of the washing machines are broken. Some of the broken ones do not have signs on them. The only indicator that there is something wrong is that the attendant will yell at you when you try to load your clothes in them.
Some of the machines only run hot water. Which I discovered only after starting a load of darks. Lucky I sort dark from light as the two red shirts in there would have made for a lifetime of pink button down shirts. The water was the color of Hawaiian Punch through every cycle. I was saved from a classic rookie laundry mishap. Still, some of my underwear have an odd pinky cast to them now.
summer in a glass
Had my first mojito on Friday. It was as N had described it: summer in a glass. Fruity, sweet, and cooling. Since I moved to Brooklyn I can count on my left hand the number of days I have gone without having a drink. This situation is the opposite of many of my friends who on leaving grad school exclaimed that they drank so much less than they used did in grad school.
Drinking in grad school always being associated with the misery of poverty, repeated failure, an environment where a cloud of guilt hands over you because the work is never done and you are always being evaluated on one level or another. *sigh* Those were good times. (You think I jest when I say that. But lately when I think of grad school it calls to mind what Steve Dunne says in the movie "Singles" -"we had good times and we had bad times, but we had times. ")
"We had times." Amen to that.
So yeah, I've been drinking. Not with great abandon but with a constancy that probably wears at my liver and teases apart the tangle of neural spaghetti in my head. Perhaps for the better. Things have always been a bit scrambled up there and a little cell death might clear things up. Allow for a bit of judicious pruning. Who knows.
It might just be that regular work will drive a girl to drink.
a rose by any other name is rebranding
I overheard a conversation in the office about how "40 is the new 30." On my 35th birthday AG called to let me know that "30 is the new 20." I have heard that "Orange is the new pink." In case you were wondering, "I am the new you."
the reason I started this post
I wish the term "straight edge" had come into the common parlance when I was a teenager. I could have declared myself to be straight edge as opposed to being that cheerful dork who didn't drink, smoke or take mind altering substances.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
parting sucks my ass
My friend is leaving the country.
She saw me off at the train station and I did not say all those things that need to get said.
Have a safe trip.
I am happy for you.
Call me if you need anything!
I am going to miss you sooooooo much.
I love you
You better stay in touch or I'm gonna fly out there and kick ya.
and a million other things that don't even come to mind at this moment.
I didn't say them because I didn't want to start crying. And I didn't want her to start crying. She is not a cryer by nature (me, I cry at split milk.)
And I didn't want to start crying because I am really happy for her and I think this trip will bring her what she has been looking for. It is a cause for celebration not sadness. My loss is small compared to the net gains.
I didn't even get her a farewell gift or a card. Because in my current rootless state gifts look like a bunch of other crap that I need to store or cart around from place to place. Because I don't think a card exists that could express what it means to me to have her as a friend.
Used to be that nothing that happened in my life was real until we sat down and had a chat about it.
Even though our lives have changed and we have changed, I want to know this person until the day I die. And maybe I didn't say or do all of those things because I have an unshakeable faith that this a fact not merely something I want. That these things don't need to be said. There will be many occassions in the future to say them and so much more.
That being said, parting sucks my ass.
She saw me off at the train station and I did not say all those things that need to get said.
Have a safe trip.
I am happy for you.
Call me if you need anything!
I am going to miss you sooooooo much.
I love you
You better stay in touch or I'm gonna fly out there and kick ya.
and a million other things that don't even come to mind at this moment.
I didn't say them because I didn't want to start crying. And I didn't want her to start crying. She is not a cryer by nature (me, I cry at split milk.)
And I didn't want to start crying because I am really happy for her and I think this trip will bring her what she has been looking for. It is a cause for celebration not sadness. My loss is small compared to the net gains.
I didn't even get her a farewell gift or a card. Because in my current rootless state gifts look like a bunch of other crap that I need to store or cart around from place to place. Because I don't think a card exists that could express what it means to me to have her as a friend.
Used to be that nothing that happened in my life was real until we sat down and had a chat about it.
Even though our lives have changed and we have changed, I want to know this person until the day I die. And maybe I didn't say or do all of those things because I have an unshakeable faith that this a fact not merely something I want. That these things don't need to be said. There will be many occassions in the future to say them and so much more.
That being said, parting sucks my ass.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Me vs. the MLA style handbook*****
After being at BS(TM) for about a month I have loosened up enough to check my gmail and yahoo mail.
I have not crossed the blogger line at work. I am trying to hold my ground there. But sometimes I do take a peek at my myspace.*
That being said, if an article seems even tangentially remotely rationalize-ably relevant to the biz, I read it.**
Found this life altering*** article about the plight of the nerd and why high school sucks**** so hard. I don't know if I buy the whole spiel but it certainly offers food for thought.
-----------------------------
*
makes me feel naughty.
**
c'mon, man, research!
***
I am coming to realize that the working world reminds me of high school in its expectations of conformity and the weird social dynamics and hidden aspects that I know are there but can't figure out. I oscillate between blundering about like an oaf and trying to make myself invisible. I used to consider myself somewhat normal but now realize that the context was a scientific environment which is pretty much in line with that saying about the one-eyed man in a city of the blind. In the working world it would appear that depth perception gives one a powerful advantage.
****
Regrettably, the verb suck is my new favorite:
"that sucks."
"this sucks ass."
"if they don't like it, they can suck it."
"ISI sucks my ass!" (said within earshot of co-workers on the elevator)
I am hoping that it is a phase that I will grow out of.
*****
I never learned how to footnote. I am improperly experimenting with it today because yesterday I met M and J who are professional book people. I'll bet they know their grammar and usages, after all, they get paid to judge the writing of others. Five asteriks into this post I realize first off - that it might help for me to actually pick up a copy of the MLA style handbook (which looks awfully heavy) if I want to write properly and second off - that living in NYC is feeding the freaky self-conscious neurotic in me. It's only been a month.
In NYC and on the east coast, there seem to be unspoken rules or scripts to all kinds of transactions and modes of being. Every block is its own microclimate with its own social ecology. Each with it's own rules and scripts known best by the locals. Some you can reason out for yourself through common sense or careful observation. Some will get explained to you in nice or not so nice tones of voice by the locals. Travelling from block to block, neighborhood to neighborhood - there are so many different codes, and customs, and expectations of conformity in so many different modes that it can be tricky keeping track of how things are done.
Maybe that's why people become regulars. In part to go back to the places they like but perhaps also to be in places where they know the drill and understand the local modes and codes.
Maybe that's part of why I love my corner of Brooklyn. It is beautiful and green and friendly and peaceful. I love it for so many reasons. And while I hate to admit it, certainly part of why I love it here is that it is a bit slower and well ... bougie and gentrified ... some might say, uh, it's a little bland. Merely in comparison with other parts of the 5 burroughs. But for me as a fish out of water that's good. There's less shit to track. It still has so much to offer but does so in a much gentler and manageable way. When I get home I am not struggling with navigating the local means and mores just to get a goddamned sandwich. I can just get a goddamned sandwich.
AND I just broke my no blogging at werk rule to edit this post. *kiss*
I have not crossed the blogger line at work. I am trying to hold my ground there. But sometimes I do take a peek at my myspace.*
That being said, if an article seems even tangentially remotely rationalize-ably relevant to the biz, I read it.**
Found this life altering*** article about the plight of the nerd and why high school sucks**** so hard. I don't know if I buy the whole spiel but it certainly offers food for thought.
-----------------------------
*
makes me feel naughty.
**
c'mon, man, research!
***
I am coming to realize that the working world reminds me of high school in its expectations of conformity and the weird social dynamics and hidden aspects that I know are there but can't figure out. I oscillate between blundering about like an oaf and trying to make myself invisible. I used to consider myself somewhat normal but now realize that the context was a scientific environment which is pretty much in line with that saying about the one-eyed man in a city of the blind. In the working world it would appear that depth perception gives one a powerful advantage.
****
Regrettably, the verb suck is my new favorite:
"that sucks."
"this sucks ass."
"if they don't like it, they can suck it."
"ISI sucks my ass!" (said within earshot of co-workers on the elevator)
I am hoping that it is a phase that I will grow out of.
*****
I never learned how to footnote. I am improperly experimenting with it today because yesterday I met M and J who are professional book people. I'll bet they know their grammar and usages, after all, they get paid to judge the writing of others. Five asteriks into this post I realize first off - that it might help for me to actually pick up a copy of the MLA style handbook (which looks awfully heavy) if I want to write properly and second off - that living in NYC is feeding the freaky self-conscious neurotic in me. It's only been a month.
In NYC and on the east coast, there seem to be unspoken rules or scripts to all kinds of transactions and modes of being. Every block is its own microclimate with its own social ecology. Each with it's own rules and scripts known best by the locals. Some you can reason out for yourself through common sense or careful observation. Some will get explained to you in nice or not so nice tones of voice by the locals. Travelling from block to block, neighborhood to neighborhood - there are so many different codes, and customs, and expectations of conformity in so many different modes that it can be tricky keeping track of how things are done.
Maybe that's why people become regulars. In part to go back to the places they like but perhaps also to be in places where they know the drill and understand the local modes and codes.
Maybe that's part of why I love my corner of Brooklyn. It is beautiful and green and friendly and peaceful. I love it for so many reasons. And while I hate to admit it, certainly part of why I love it here is that it is a bit slower and well ... bougie and gentrified ... some might say, uh, it's a little bland. Merely in comparison with other parts of the 5 burroughs. But for me as a fish out of water that's good. There's less shit to track. It still has so much to offer but does so in a much gentler and manageable way. When I get home I am not struggling with navigating the local means and mores just to get a goddamned sandwich. I can just get a goddamned sandwich.
AND I just broke my no blogging at werk rule to edit this post. *kiss*
Sunday, July 30, 2006
5 things post
Five Things In My Freezer
1. Ice in tray
2. A very small box of strawberry ice-cream
3. A frozen bannana
4. Another frozen bannana
5. coffee flavored frozen yogurt
6. Dead body
Five Things In My Closet
1. shoes
2. hanging shoe holder
3. werk clothes
4. little black dress
5. sweaters
6. Skeleton
Five Things In My Car (when I had a car *sniff*)
1. Collapsable Sunshields
2. Ani DiFranco Album: Little Plastic Castle
3. Jumper cables
4. Terminator style wrap around sunglasses
5. Food Not Bombs fliers
6. Dead Body
Five Things In My Purse
1. two ATM cards
2. teeny tiny pen made in Japan
3. teeny tiny date book (no dates in it)
4. Illini Inn mug club card (chugged a beer faster than a dude. Yeah Baby!)
5. cellphone with busted 3 button and "back" button
6. Bunny Lebowski's pinky toe
Five people I'm tagging (who don't read this blog)
1. malcolm gladwell
2. Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner
3. Julia Sweeney
4. Wil Wheaton
5. Wonkette
6. Einstein
1. Ice in tray
2. A very small box of strawberry ice-cream
3. A frozen bannana
4. Another frozen bannana
5. coffee flavored frozen yogurt
6. Dead body
Five Things In My Closet
1. shoes
2. hanging shoe holder
3. werk clothes
4. little black dress
5. sweaters
6. Skeleton
Five Things In My Car (when I had a car *sniff*)
1. Collapsable Sunshields
2. Ani DiFranco Album: Little Plastic Castle
3. Jumper cables
4. Terminator style wrap around sunglasses
5. Food Not Bombs fliers
6. Dead Body
Five Things In My Purse
1. two ATM cards
2. teeny tiny pen made in Japan
3. teeny tiny date book (no dates in it)
4. Illini Inn mug club card (chugged a beer faster than a dude. Yeah Baby!)
5. cellphone with busted 3 button and "back" button
6. Bunny Lebowski's pinky toe
Five people I'm tagging (who don't read this blog)
1. malcolm gladwell
2. Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner
3. Julia Sweeney
4. Wil Wheaton
5. Wonkette
6. Einstein
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
got what in pocket?
The indie boy standing at the door in the # train was reading some kind of script and had a banana in his pocket.
I don't know who works on the floor below BS(TM) but whoever they are, their dress code must be extremely lax. The women who step off on that floor wear the coolest stuff: gold knit dresses, short shorts with madly designed blouses, giant hoop earrings and tank tops covered in rabbits. I am dying to know what they sell.
My folks are fine.
I don't know who works on the floor below BS(TM) but whoever they are, their dress code must be extremely lax. The women who step off on that floor wear the coolest stuff: gold knit dresses, short shorts with madly designed blouses, giant hoop earrings and tank tops covered in rabbits. I am dying to know what they sell.
My folks are fine.
the mixology of others + shots
S is a friend of L's who is a friend of E's. And S has a passion for food and drink. He rhapsodized at length about his favorite doughnuts - the chocolate cake donut and the marble krueller. He also described two of his favorite mixed drinks. I think right now they lack names but perhaps soon I will come in and edit this post with names.
S's concoction #1 A Licorice Grin
Pernod (or sambuca if you have no pernod handy)
Club soda
a lemon wedge
on the rocks
squeeze the lemon into the rest and stir.
drop the lemon into the glass.
It's fan-fucking-tastic.
S's concoction #2
Brandy (the cheap cheap stuff)
OJ frozen concentrate (FrOJ)
mix the brandy and the FrOJ into a slurry
take some spoons of that and throw it into a glass with
Squirt (regular or ruby red)
This, I have not had but S says that you can drink it all night. Sounds dangerous but for now, we take him at his word.
He was speculating about swapping Limeade or Lemonade concentrate for the FrOJ. Any drink testers in the audience?
Added to all of this I wanted to mention
Tequila shots a la Kale
Take an orange slice (or a tangerine slice) and dust it with cinnamon
Shoot the tequila and finish with the cinnamon orange.
Kale said that such shots are done in Mexico. I can only say for myself that they are brilliant. They can be done without the cinnamon but are much better with. Done this way there is no after taste. You won't even remember that you had a tequila shot
S's concoction #1 A Licorice Grin
Pernod (or sambuca if you have no pernod handy)
Club soda
a lemon wedge
on the rocks
squeeze the lemon into the rest and stir.
drop the lemon into the glass.
It's fan-fucking-tastic.
S's concoction #2
Brandy (the cheap cheap stuff)
OJ frozen concentrate (FrOJ)
mix the brandy and the FrOJ into a slurry
take some spoons of that and throw it into a glass with
Squirt (regular or ruby red)
This, I have not had but S says that you can drink it all night. Sounds dangerous but for now, we take him at his word.
He was speculating about swapping Limeade or Lemonade concentrate for the FrOJ. Any drink testers in the audience?
Added to all of this I wanted to mention
Tequila shots a la Kale
Take an orange slice (or a tangerine slice) and dust it with cinnamon
Shoot the tequila and finish with the cinnamon orange.
Kale said that such shots are done in Mexico. I can only say for myself that they are brilliant. They can be done without the cinnamon but are much better with. Done this way there is no after taste. You won't even remember that you had a tequila shot
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
a little dab'll have to do
1.
Today in yoga C said: "The path of least resistance is a common direction for life to take. Nothing wrong with that. But the path of least resistance is not the path of growth."
My first yoga class in a very long time. *ooof*
I am missing the yoga teachers I had in the Lou. I miss their fluidity, their sense of humor, their heartiness, their midwestern tranquility, and the gentle imagery and spiritual poetry of their instruction.
La, P, M, J, C, Lu, but most of all I miss JT. If you are interested in a spot of yoga in the Lou consider checking out: Dogtown Yoga or St. Louis Yoga Source and if you prefer a more vigorous kind of yoga YogaDoc has sweaty good ashtanga classes where you will be surrounded by friendly happy people.
2.
Two days ago someone told me that my deeply beloved St. Lou has suffered terribly from bad storms. There is no power, riot and murder in the streets and a declaration of Martial law. I have tried calling my parents for three days now and get no answer. Should I worry? I'll keep calling for a bit and see.
There was this other time when they did not realize that their phone service was out. I actually faxed them a letter on the other phone line:
"Dear Mom and Dad, you don't pick up the phone when I call. Are you okay?"
which gave them the heads up. Unfortunately they do not have a separate fax line anymore.
3.
After an absence of internets at home I am staying up and bingeing on beloved blogs trying to catch up. Sooo much has happened in the past couple months. I have missed it all and am still playing catch up.
But I should be sleeping. The work world requires alertness at the worst times of the day. And as it is required we try to conform. On my very first day at Big Scienceville (TM) I became a coffee drinker. I would not make it through the day without it.
4.
I cracked a joke on my first day about writing about the internal workings of Big Scienceville(TM) on my blog. My boss was excessively not amused. And then my roomate (also a blogger) sends me a link to the BBC article about getting dooced *shiver*
There is so much more I want to say but I am supposed to get up in 5 hours,, get ready, get on the @ train switch to the % train and put in a full looking day at BS(TM). The boss will be back and I will offer up my services towards the less glamorous kind of work that folks in the department feel needs to really get done. =P
Today in yoga C said: "The path of least resistance is a common direction for life to take. Nothing wrong with that. But the path of least resistance is not the path of growth."
My first yoga class in a very long time. *ooof*
I am missing the yoga teachers I had in the Lou. I miss their fluidity, their sense of humor, their heartiness, their midwestern tranquility, and the gentle imagery and spiritual poetry of their instruction.
La, P, M, J, C, Lu, but most of all I miss JT. If you are interested in a spot of yoga in the Lou consider checking out: Dogtown Yoga or St. Louis Yoga Source and if you prefer a more vigorous kind of yoga YogaDoc has sweaty good ashtanga classes where you will be surrounded by friendly happy people.
2.
Two days ago someone told me that my deeply beloved St. Lou has suffered terribly from bad storms. There is no power, riot and murder in the streets and a declaration of Martial law. I have tried calling my parents for three days now and get no answer. Should I worry? I'll keep calling for a bit and see.
There was this other time when they did not realize that their phone service was out. I actually faxed them a letter on the other phone line:
"Dear Mom and Dad, you don't pick up the phone when I call. Are you okay?"
which gave them the heads up. Unfortunately they do not have a separate fax line anymore.
3.
After an absence of internets at home I am staying up and bingeing on beloved blogs trying to catch up. Sooo much has happened in the past couple months. I have missed it all and am still playing catch up.
But I should be sleeping. The work world requires alertness at the worst times of the day. And as it is required we try to conform. On my very first day at Big Scienceville (TM) I became a coffee drinker. I would not make it through the day without it.
4.
I cracked a joke on my first day about writing about the internal workings of Big Scienceville(TM) on my blog. My boss was excessively not amused. And then my roomate (also a blogger) sends me a link to the BBC article about getting dooced *shiver*
There is so much more I want to say but I am supposed to get up in 5 hours,, get ready, get on the @ train switch to the % train and put in a full looking day at BS(TM). The boss will be back and I will offer up my services towards the less glamorous kind of work that folks in the department feel needs to really get done. =P
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
The circus life
I wrote an entire "My Life as Miss Mystech" tour diary and if you would like to see the over-written, under-edited remembrances of the girl behind the curtain click here. You'll also see the neurotic ramblings of a girl who tried to write a novel in November of 2005. I warn you that you had to be there ... and if you were you'd remember it differently.
A quick summary:
We played at these venues:
Thunderbird CoffeeHouse
the Garfield Artworks Gallery
the Barclay house
Khyber
PA's Lounge
Sangha
The Milestone the Milestone's myspace
Ground Zero
Ground Zero's myspace
Swayze's
Baba Budans in Cincinnati, OH
the Black Sheep Cafe
We played with these bands:
The Emotron
the Rick Johnson Rock and Roll Machine
-
Me Just Being Me
Hotness
Beeblo
-
Spiff and Krisis
Army of Kashyyk
The Cheapshot
-
PB Army
The Situation
-
Math the Band
Catherine Cavanaugh of Chop Chop
Ouch
-
the Afrosheen Explosion
-
the Press
PPR
-
Bitterman
Hawass
JT and the Blame
Afroman
-
the Mean Girls
-
Undermine
the Kare Bare Mafia
-
The Rot Aways
I got introduced or reintroduced to these new things/people:
spermcube.org donor kit
The House of Cosby
the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny
george washington
Treephort
Plug In Music
Fast Piece of Furniture
Freezepop
Quatre Tete
Dragonforce
the Mathematicians
Wonder Showzen
R
Burke
M.C. Donald's
Pictures/Movies:
Dude takes bad ass pictures
Bedfellows:
breakdown:
Springfield will rub Freezepops on your chest.
Cincinnati joined us for a conga line
Marietta - the girls are frisky. Very frisky.
Spartanburg is full of hugs, booze and beautiful women.
Charlotte took my hand.
Takoma Park sits quietly through the show, even if you light your crotch on fire. But they offer great hospitality after.
Boston - some rock out every night. 'cuz that's how they roll!
Philly is sweet and surly.
Baltimore loves games and crafts.
Temperance gave us pancakes and plungers.
Jackson offered to take us home and keep us.
Touring made me feel like a badass and forced me to live in the moment.
I got to piss in the woods, meet new people, and hear new bands.
The downside of touring is too much time driving, the amorphous downtime between acts , no chance to really see the places you are visiting, and too much junk food.
Who you go on tour with is so important and I was lucky to have excellent travel companions.
I like jumping around and singing my guts off.
It's cool staying at other people's homes.
I like seeing people in their element, seeing how people live.
And I am touched by the kindness of strangers and the love of their pets.
There are a lot of really talented artistic people in this country. Everywhere you turn from Toledo to Takoma Park.
Bands like free meals - feed the bands. They like having somewhere to crash. They like drink tickets, internet access and a clean towel. Oh, and they like it when you let them do laundry at your place.
It's really hard to break even much less make money.
Bring a towel, socks, and a sheet/blanket. Most other stuff you can probably pick up on the road if you need it. Finding a ways to dry your toothbrush is tricky.
The price of admission doesn't really pay the bands. Buying a t-shirt/sticker/CD/DVD pays the bands.
I am a little too old to do this. It can be pretty grueling. After travel, a show, and a bite to eat I rarely had the energy to party much less hang or carry on a conversation.
Having a DVD player in your minivan is sweet. Playing shows with good (and/or) nice bands is also sweet.
Mad love to the Mystechs with warm wishes for their tours of the West Coast and Texas. I blow kisses in your general direction. And mad love to The Emotron as well.
A quick summary:
We played at these venues:
Thunderbird CoffeeHouse
the Garfield Artworks Gallery
the Barclay house
Khyber
PA's Lounge
Sangha
The Milestone the Milestone's myspace
Ground Zero
Ground Zero's myspace
Swayze's
Baba Budans in Cincinnati, OH
the Black Sheep Cafe
We played with these bands:
The Emotron
the Rick Johnson Rock and Roll Machine
-
Me Just Being Me
Hotness
Beeblo
-
Spiff and Krisis
Army of Kashyyk
The Cheapshot
-
PB Army
The Situation
-
Math the Band
Catherine Cavanaugh of Chop Chop
Ouch
-
the Afrosheen Explosion
-
the Press
PPR
-
Bitterman
Hawass
JT and the Blame
Afroman
-
the Mean Girls
-
Undermine
the Kare Bare Mafia
-
The Rot Aways
I got introduced or reintroduced to these new things/people:
spermcube.org donor kit
The House of Cosby
the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny
george washington
Treephort
Plug In Music
Fast Piece of Furniture
Freezepop
Quatre Tete
Dragonforce
the Mathematicians
Wonder Showzen
R
Burke
M.C. Donald's
Pictures/Movies:
Dude takes bad ass pictures
Bedfellows:
breakdown:
Springfield will rub Freezepops on your chest.
Cincinnati joined us for a conga line
Marietta - the girls are frisky. Very frisky.
Spartanburg is full of hugs, booze and beautiful women.
Charlotte took my hand.
Takoma Park sits quietly through the show, even if you light your crotch on fire. But they offer great hospitality after.
Boston - some rock out every night. 'cuz that's how they roll!
Philly is sweet and surly.
Baltimore loves games and crafts.
Temperance gave us pancakes and plungers.
Jackson offered to take us home and keep us.
Touring made me feel like a badass and forced me to live in the moment.
I got to piss in the woods, meet new people, and hear new bands.
The downside of touring is too much time driving, the amorphous downtime between acts , no chance to really see the places you are visiting, and too much junk food.
Who you go on tour with is so important and I was lucky to have excellent travel companions.
I like jumping around and singing my guts off.
It's cool staying at other people's homes.
I like seeing people in their element, seeing how people live.
And I am touched by the kindness of strangers and the love of their pets.
There are a lot of really talented artistic people in this country. Everywhere you turn from Toledo to Takoma Park.
Bands like free meals - feed the bands. They like having somewhere to crash. They like drink tickets, internet access and a clean towel. Oh, and they like it when you let them do laundry at your place.
It's really hard to break even much less make money.
Bring a towel, socks, and a sheet/blanket. Most other stuff you can probably pick up on the road if you need it. Finding a ways to dry your toothbrush is tricky.
The price of admission doesn't really pay the bands. Buying a t-shirt/sticker/CD/DVD pays the bands.
I am a little too old to do this. It can be pretty grueling. After travel, a show, and a bite to eat I rarely had the energy to party much less hang or carry on a conversation.
Having a DVD player in your minivan is sweet. Playing shows with good (and/or) nice bands is also sweet.
Mad love to the Mystechs with warm wishes for their tours of the West Coast and Texas. I blow kisses in your general direction. And mad love to The Emotron as well.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
I want to read all about it on your LJ, your LJ
I was going to do a series of posts about going on tour as a Mystech. One post for each day of the tour. But it just seems like the wrong place for it. SFMD would shoot me for all the impossibly long posts that consist of merely me flushing things out of my brain.
I'll try to cobble something pithy together. Promise. There are too many bands and venues to pimp for me to not say something.
In the meantime I am blowing you kisses from Brooklyn.
I'll try to cobble something pithy together. Promise. There are too many bands and venues to pimp for me to not say something.
In the meantime I am blowing you kisses from Brooklyn.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Bodies in Rest and Motion
(text in italics ganked from The Physics Classroom)
Newton's first law of motion:
"An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force."
It dawned on me that I have been in the Lou for about ten months. Sitting on my ass. Living in my head.
"Inertia = the resistance an object has to a change in its state of motion."
Ten months. Inertia is an apt description for this time. It may be that I have been in motion - moving with a constant speed in one direction but it is more likely that I have been sitting very still.
"A force is a push or pull upon an object resulting from the object's interaction with another object. Whenever there is an interaction between two objects, there is a force upon each of the objects. When the interaction ceases, the two objects no longer experience the force. Forces only exist as a result of an interaction."
For ten months I mostly insulated myself from interaction. From contact. From the push and pull of others.
"Objects at equilibrium (the condition in which all forces balance) will not accelerate."
Forces in me and applied to me. Balanced. No acceleration. No change in direction. I hovered.
"The net force is the vector sum of all the forces which act upon an object. That is to say, the net force is the sum of all the forces, taking into account the fact that a force is a vector and two forces of equal magnitude and opposite direction will cancel each other out."
A struggle inside between conflicting desires and drives. Opposing ambitions cancelling each other out.
To a net force of zero.
Is it that I don't want anything or that I want too many things?
"All objects resist changes in their state of motion. All objects have this tendency - they have inertia. But do some objects have more of a tendency to resist changes than others? Absolutely yes! The tendency of an object to resist changes in its state of motion is dependent upon mass ... The more mass which an object has, the more inertia it has - the more tendency it has to resist changes in its state of motion."
Within the boundaries of my skin, deep in my being, I am massive like a black hole, a gravity well. All that dark matter collected in my pupils and the ends of my hair. To know that resistance to change is a tendency of all objects is somewhat of a comfort to me. I am not alone.
"For simplicity sake, all forces (interactions) between objects can be placed into two broad categories: contact forces,
and
forces resulting from action-at-a-distance"
Ten months of sitting still and then.
I bought a plane ticket to go visit G and RB before my favorite women moved away from the New York area.
I emailed EH and asked if I could join the Mystech circus this summer.
And then I got an email inviting me to interview for an internship.
I did.
I got it.
So I am writing to you today from Brooklyn, NY where I will be for six months. It is muggy as muggy can be and I am a bit freaked out to be here. I am here as a reaction to an action-at-a-distance. And at least for the next six months I am in motion in a new direction. Doing something intern-y.
I am a little sad to leave my cloistered static life behind. A lot of the time it sucked. I berated myself and felt inconsolably lonesome and completely lost. But it was good too. Well, maybe it wasn't so good. But it was my life and it was familiar.
For the summer I had envisioned myself campaigning and volunteering (perhaps touring) and driving up to CU frequently to see My Guy and the good people of the 705. Ah, as the Yiddish saying goes: "Man plans and God laughs"
Newton's first law of motion:
"An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force."
It dawned on me that I have been in the Lou for about ten months. Sitting on my ass. Living in my head.
"Inertia = the resistance an object has to a change in its state of motion."
Ten months. Inertia is an apt description for this time. It may be that I have been in motion - moving with a constant speed in one direction but it is more likely that I have been sitting very still.
"A force is a push or pull upon an object resulting from the object's interaction with another object. Whenever there is an interaction between two objects, there is a force upon each of the objects. When the interaction ceases, the two objects no longer experience the force. Forces only exist as a result of an interaction."
For ten months I mostly insulated myself from interaction. From contact. From the push and pull of others.
"Objects at equilibrium (the condition in which all forces balance) will not accelerate."
Forces in me and applied to me. Balanced. No acceleration. No change in direction. I hovered.
"The net force is the vector sum of all the forces which act upon an object. That is to say, the net force is the sum of all the forces, taking into account the fact that a force is a vector and two forces of equal magnitude and opposite direction will cancel each other out."
A struggle inside between conflicting desires and drives. Opposing ambitions cancelling each other out.
To a net force of zero.
Is it that I don't want anything or that I want too many things?
"All objects resist changes in their state of motion. All objects have this tendency - they have inertia. But do some objects have more of a tendency to resist changes than others? Absolutely yes! The tendency of an object to resist changes in its state of motion is dependent upon mass ... The more mass which an object has, the more inertia it has - the more tendency it has to resist changes in its state of motion."
Within the boundaries of my skin, deep in my being, I am massive like a black hole, a gravity well. All that dark matter collected in my pupils and the ends of my hair. To know that resistance to change is a tendency of all objects is somewhat of a comfort to me. I am not alone.
"For simplicity sake, all forces (interactions) between objects can be placed into two broad categories: contact forces,
and
forces resulting from action-at-a-distance"
Ten months of sitting still and then.
I bought a plane ticket to go visit G and RB before my favorite women moved away from the New York area.
I emailed EH and asked if I could join the Mystech circus this summer.
And then I got an email inviting me to interview for an internship.
I did.
I got it.
So I am writing to you today from Brooklyn, NY where I will be for six months. It is muggy as muggy can be and I am a bit freaked out to be here. I am here as a reaction to an action-at-a-distance. And at least for the next six months I am in motion in a new direction. Doing something intern-y.
I am a little sad to leave my cloistered static life behind. A lot of the time it sucked. I berated myself and felt inconsolably lonesome and completely lost. But it was good too. Well, maybe it wasn't so good. But it was my life and it was familiar.
For the summer I had envisioned myself campaigning and volunteering (perhaps touring) and driving up to CU frequently to see My Guy and the good people of the 705. Ah, as the Yiddish saying goes: "Man plans and God laughs"
Thursday, June 22, 2006
right here right now
I am on the road with the circus.
I'll tell ya all about it when I get back.
*hearts*
I'll tell ya all about it when I get back.
*hearts*
Saturday, June 03, 2006
confidences of a clothes horse
A lot of clothing designers devote their lives to making women look dumpy, slutty, or foolish. Perhaps it is not their intent but on the rack and on the body, the clothes say things like:
"I am built like a box."
or
"I seem to have misplaced my waist."
or
"I am a giraffe"
or
"Check out my boobs!"
or
"If I sit down these pants will split."
or
"I don't eat."
or
"I wish I was a streetwalker"
or
"I wish I was an Ikette"
or
"I wish I was a Diva."
or
"I really like sailboats/cats/puppies/ducks/flowers/whales/wolves/unicorns
or
"Hey, check out the giant flower/bow/beaded thingy on my ass/chest/shoulder/stomach/hip?"
Which is great if that's the look you're going for. Sometimes it is. (?!) The best of the fantasy clothes are in the junior's section of the department store. I love shopping in the junior's section. While the clothes are for the most part poorly made, they are an adventure. Color, sequins, metallics, stretchy fabrics, crazy patterns, asymmetric hemlines and necklines, beading - you name it. And you can get away with it when you are young. You are experimenting. You can get away with anything.
When I shopped as a young woman, somedays, there was a "why not" element to it. A stretchy gold knit top with rhinestones paired with a pink ballet tutu with purple flowers embroidered on it? Why not. Black velvet catsuit with a red and gold shiny vest? Why not. Stretch leopard print pants and glittery hello kitty t-shirt? Why not. The trick was finding an occassion to wear it. And when I couldn't I would just hop around in them at home. They were cheap and it was halloween, prom, ballet class, and a hollywood movie set all rolled into one. Good times.
But now I have reached an age at which junior's department occassions are few and far between in my day to day.
I have reached an age at which sometimes I need clothes that fit well and are flattering while also saying: "I am professional, responsible, and capable - respect me." I need boring, appropriate clothes that look good.
No easy task. Especially as a department store clearance shopper.
I realize that we come in all shapes and sizes and style preferences vary but gosh golly sometimes I envy the men with their simple suits are uniforms convention.
As a gal slowly trying to get on the job interview trail the phrase "Business casual" drives me crazy. I hope gauchos are acceptable as business casual because I have three pairs of them. (What can I say, I'm gaucho wild.) I also hope that dusty purple leather shoes are acceptable as business casual.
But what I really want is to find a store where I can buy a really great white button down shirt for $20 or less. Y'know the kind of white shirt that made Lauren Hutton's tan look browner and her teeth whiter.
"I am built like a box."
or
"I seem to have misplaced my waist."
or
"I am a giraffe"
or
"Check out my boobs!"
or
"If I sit down these pants will split."
or
"I don't eat."
or
"I wish I was a streetwalker"
or
"I wish I was an Ikette"
or
"I wish I was a Diva."
or
"I really like sailboats/cats/puppies/ducks/flowers/whales/wolves/unicorns
or
"Hey, check out the giant flower/bow/beaded thingy on my ass/chest/shoulder/stomach/hip?"
Which is great if that's the look you're going for. Sometimes it is. (?!) The best of the fantasy clothes are in the junior's section of the department store. I love shopping in the junior's section. While the clothes are for the most part poorly made, they are an adventure. Color, sequins, metallics, stretchy fabrics, crazy patterns, asymmetric hemlines and necklines, beading - you name it. And you can get away with it when you are young. You are experimenting. You can get away with anything.
When I shopped as a young woman, somedays, there was a "why not" element to it. A stretchy gold knit top with rhinestones paired with a pink ballet tutu with purple flowers embroidered on it? Why not. Black velvet catsuit with a red and gold shiny vest? Why not. Stretch leopard print pants and glittery hello kitty t-shirt? Why not. The trick was finding an occassion to wear it. And when I couldn't I would just hop around in them at home. They were cheap and it was halloween, prom, ballet class, and a hollywood movie set all rolled into one. Good times.
But now I have reached an age at which junior's department occassions are few and far between in my day to day.
I have reached an age at which sometimes I need clothes that fit well and are flattering while also saying: "I am professional, responsible, and capable - respect me." I need boring, appropriate clothes that look good.
No easy task. Especially as a department store clearance shopper.
I realize that we come in all shapes and sizes and style preferences vary but gosh golly sometimes I envy the men with their simple suits are uniforms convention.
As a gal slowly trying to get on the job interview trail the phrase "Business casual" drives me crazy. I hope gauchos are acceptable as business casual because I have three pairs of them. (What can I say, I'm gaucho wild.) I also hope that dusty purple leather shoes are acceptable as business casual.
But what I really want is to find a store where I can buy a really great white button down shirt for $20 or less. Y'know the kind of white shirt that made Lauren Hutton's tan look browner and her teeth whiter.
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