Disclosoholic What?

just a picture

2007-05-23T11:59:00.000-05:00

So Bad

2006-12-04T20:20:00.000-06:00

and not in the good, Michael Jackson way. Oh Rocky Balboa, must it be?

Distinctive? Not really.

2006-12-04T16:04:00.000-06:00

I went out on Friday night with a friend of mine. We saw “Stranger Than Fiction” which should have gotten better reviews than it did, though it was flawed (it was, however, adorably flawed). After the movie, we decided we should discuss it at our favorite neighborhood bar down the street from the theater. It was a busy Friday night, and the bouncer immediately asked me for my ID. As I was fishing around, my friend dug through her purse to find hers. The bouncer told her not to bother because he recognized her. My friend was surprised and the bouncer said, “you have a distinctive face.” She said that she came into the bar with me all the time and that I also have a distinctive face. The bouncer replied, “No, not so much.”

Anyway, for a whole host of reasons, we will not be frequenting that bar again anytime soon.

Friday's Feast!

2006-12-01T13:05:00.000-06:00

Friday's Feast 120
Friday, December 01, 2006

Appetizer: Have you ever flown in a helicopter?
Yes, when I took myself on vacation to Hawaii in 2005.

Soup: What color is your warmest coat or jacket?
It’s white wool toggle coat with black toggles and a black (fake) fur collar. The inside is quilted. When I was in Alaska, I called it my 15 degrees coat, because I can only wear it if it’s going to colder than about 15 degrees. I haven’t worn it once since moving to Chicago, by the way.

Salad: What is your favorite rainy day activity?
Napping, reading, drinking tea, wrapping myself in a blanket and watching movies, or taking a hot bath and listening to opera.

Main Course: Describe your hands.
I have beautiful hands: long palms with very distinct lines and short but not stubby fingers. My hands are the size of a child’s; I wear XS size gloves and still they are big. My fingers are slim (ring size 6.5), and I have long nail beds and naturally long nails, which were a problem during my guitar playing years—my nails naturally end (or begin, I’m confused) at the very tip of my fingers, so in order to cut them short enough to play I had to cut them till I bled. It was not pleasant.

Dessert: If you could eat only one nut for the rest of your life, what nut would you pick?
Cashew! Cashew butter…cashews in chocolate, cashews in jello…Yum!

blogger

2006-11-28T11:43:00.000-06:00

is eating my post. damn you, blogger!

2006-11-28T11:40:00.000-06:00

Obviously—to anyone who has glanced at my blog in the last two months—I am a fan of NBC’s Heroes. I don’t think it’s the best written show I’ve ever seen (of those I’m into, that would probably go to Veronica Mars, Doctor Who, or maybe season 1 of Lost), nor is the best acted show (again Veronica Mars, Lost and Doctor Who have got it there), but there’s just something so sweet about it that I love. But you know what I don’t love? The forum posters on TWOP who can’t discuss the show without making allusions to other comic book universes. I understand how sometimes you need to refer to other, outside sources in order to better understand context, to put things in a frame, but at some point you have to assess the text on the page (or show on the screen) for what it is. Half the posters on the boards are missing interesting plot points and instead having discussions like, “If Peter is Rogue then how come he doesn’t suck life energy from the people whose power he absorbs?” Um, maybe because he is NOT Rogue; he is a character created by someone who did not create Rogue, and he exists in a universe completely different from that which Rogue occupies. Ugh. What if I did that with books all the time? What if I read something with a love story, like maybe Graham Greene’s “The End of the Affair,” and I had only this to say about it: “Well, is Bendrix like Romeo or what? I mean, Sarah dies, so she’s obviously the Juliette, but he just goes on living. I thought Romeo died. Why didn’t Bendrix die?” BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT THE SAME BOOK, LET ALONE THE SAME CHARACTERS. Ahem. Anyway, it’s probably no use getting worked up about this, as it’s just a highly watched television show on NBC, and by that description is no different from, say, Deal or No Deal. Ooh, but I must mention that I learned that

peace on earth, goodwill torward what?

2006-11-27T22:01:00.000-06:00

Earlier today I came across this story. I'm going to lie down go to sleep for a very long time now and hopefully wake up in better times...

200K

2006-11-26T20:59:00.000-06:00

Somewhere in Indiana my car passed the 200,000 mile mark. Hooray, Captain, still running strong!

More Monday Tuning In

2006-11-20T20:14:00.000-06:00

I understand that a show like Prison Break depends on a high-level of tension in order to work, but really, for once, can't someone just get away and be safe? I wasn't a huge fan of C-Note last season, but I really like him this season, and after the episode where he and his crew orchestrate his escape with his wife AND child, I've been rooting for them to be the one happy family to get through it. I don't want to see his wife arrested like that and I don't want him to bite it like Abruzzi and Westmoreland. And this is sort of different, but I think T-Bag is one of the best conceived bad guys I've ever encountered. I've never loathed someone so much yet still wanted him to win. It was a realyl good move on the writers' parts to have Bellick chase after him, making us side with slimy or slimier (and I'm not sure which is which). But I've got to say, I sort of want to see him walk away a winner, sort of like Steve Buscemi at the end of that horrible movie, Con Air. And Michael and Linc (pillars of hotness), will they ever catch a break? But most of all, can Sucre please just make it safely to something? I guess he will since he'll have to confront Maricruz and Hector in Mexico. I just don't want my emotions toyed with by the idea of his possibly being shot out of the sky, you know?

OK, and Heroes? So dorky, so wonderful. I can't really say much more, as I'm currently in la la land thinking about the incredible hotness of DL.

OK my bloggy friends, have a good night. I'll try to have a real blog post soon. Maybe some writing or something, in honor of the hard-working, novel-writing friends of mine.

Trippy

2006-11-19T21:16:00.000-06:00

Last night I found myself at the Green Mill for the first time since I visited Chicago in 2004 for the AWP Conference. The Green Mill is the sort of place that feels like Chicago frozen in time. Someone told me last night that it was once owned by Al Capone. Or maybe he just said that it was Al Capone's bar...I'm unclear on a few details. Time in there does not move--we showed up around 2:15, and I left at 4:30, but I could not tell how long I'd been there. In general, people in that club don't look like slobs--the men all wear jackets and the women wear heels. Although there was an exception: my friend et and I overheard a young-looking guy in a ball cap and zip-up rain jacket, apparently the first time he'd been to the club, say to his friend, "This place is cool. The music is pretty trippy, too." I leaned over to et and said, "It's called jazz..."

Friday's Feast!

2006-11-17T10:28:00.000-06:00

Feast One Hundred & Eighteen

Appetizer: Do you believe there is intelligent life on other planets?
I neither believe nor disbelieve. If it turned out to be true I would accept it, but I would need to have some sort of evidence of it. I just don’t take many things on faith.

Soup: What is one thing you said you'd never do, but you eventually did?
Go to grad school. I think I only said I’d never do it so I wouldn’t feel bad if I tried to and then didn’t get in.

Salad: Who is the teacher that influenced you the most in school?
My fourth grade teacher, Miss Cooper. At a time when the school librarian told me I was not advanced enough to check out and read “Little Women,” Miss Cooper encouraged me to read whatever I wanted, whether it was all the “Ramona” books or my older brother’s reading assignments. Take that, Mrs. Hayes. You NEVER should discourage a child from reading.

Main Course: If you could trade places with anyone for one day, who would it be and why?
Eh, I’m not really good at this sort of question. I mean, if you couldn’t tell by this blog and by my creative nonfiction body of work, I’m a little self-involved. Could I possibly trade places with a more productive version of me? I would like to see how she does it.

Dessert: What is your favorite dish to prepare?
Chili! I usually only make it once a year, during the NFL playoffs. I love to get up early in the morning and start cooking and tasting all morning long and then have a steaming pot of delicious chili done in time for the afternoon game!

Farting Ettiquette

2006-11-17T09:44:00.000-06:00

My workmate farts. Her cubicle is right next to mine. This is not just an occasional toot that slips by. This is a several times daily pppbbbbbbbbtttthhhhhh. Sometimes she does it in the middle of meetings, or in the middle of conversations. It's really disconcerting. She never says, "Excuse me" or acknowledges it in any way. Perhaps she feels that she, as an older woman (30 years my senior, but still younger than my mom), no longer has to suscribe to little civilities like saying, "excuse me." It bothers me, obviously. Is there anything I can do about it? Should I say anything? Should I just ignore it and make a mental note to always say "excuse me" should I fart in public? That's it, I'm totally writing to Dear Prudence.

Next Step in Evolution

2006-11-16T11:56:00.000-06:00

OK, according to my dream last night, my next step in evolution superpower is...the power to be a radio receiver. Oh yeah. It started off as this annoying thing where I thought I could hear voices in the radio all the time, just slightly. I was getting nuttier and nuttier about until one day I went to bother my friend AG, who had a job setting up stereos for rich people. She was being trained my friend A's baby daddy, of all people, and he didn't appreciate that I was hanging around talking about how something strange was happening with my cheap K-Mart purchased RCA stereo (which I was carrying around with me). There was music playing the whole time, coming faintly from the speakers of my stereo, and finally I pointed out to AG that the thing was unplugged. So we started to experiment with the nicer, more expensive equipment she had. The culminating moment of the discovery of my powers was sort of "Say Anything" inspired, in which I picked up a fancy speaker (not stereo, just speaker) and held it above my head, and music streamed out of it. I found that I could change the "channel" and the volume and everything, and I sort of knew how to turn it off, but I could do it at will yet. So anyway, my other friend's baby daddy comes in and he's mad because AG didn't get any work done. I was trying to explain to him that something was happening to me and I didn't know wht to do about it, and he went into self-help psyhobabble about how what I was doing was a ploy for attention, etc. I knew he wouldn't let me interrupt him, so I pointed at the speaker next to him, which was not connected to anything, and music came out of it. I then flattened my hand the music stopped. I kept repeating this until he started to pay attention. Then I said, all dramatically, "I'm an X-Men" (grammatical mistake and everything).

So maybe I've been watching too much Heroes. It's still pretty funny that my superpower is to be Pete's mom.

...And I know what's happening...

2006-11-15T14:10:00.000-06:00

In 1992 I was a high school freshman and one of my closest friends was a junior. He introduced me to Sonic Youth and the Pixies, and eventually, to smoking (which I totally forgot about until just now). I really thought he was the smartest, coolest person I’d ever met. Anyway, when he signed my yearbook that year, he wrote: “Dear M, Love makes you full of shit. Trust me, I know. With love (which makes you full of shit), C.” Flash forward fifteen years and love still makes me full of shit. You see, I spent the weekend listening to every R.E.M. album I own. It was wonderful: I sang, I shimmied, I waved my arms artistically while I danced, I got a little weepy while listening to “Fall on Me” and even changed the ring tone of my phone to that song. But what kept coming up while I was listening to album after album was how many of their songs I used to know how to play on the guitar. I remember serenading my college friends—Paperback Writer among them—to “Superman”, “Begin the Begin” and “Country Feedback.” Not only did I used to know at least 2 songs off of every album, but I knew how to play Pixies and Nirvana songs, as well as the songs I wrote. So whatever happened to all of my guitar playing? I sort of fell out of it as college wore on and I no longer lived in a dorm room (where guitar playing seemed to be as natural as drinking an entire pot of coffee at 4 a.m. to write a paper on Shakespeare). By the time 2001 rolled around and I experienced all kinds of heartbreak, I wrote one last song. I was barely able to play any of the songs I used to know, although if I picked at it long enough I could remember some of them. A year later I moved to Alaska and took my guitar with me and still I never played it. There was one night in very early 2004 when I played half a song for a friend of mine, but that was really about it. So it’s not that surprising that the following year, right as I was about to move back to the Lower 48, when I was in love (which makes me full of shit), I gave my guitar away. Just like this: “no, no, you keep it (he had been borrowing it)—it’ll mean more to you than it will to me.” What? And now here I am, eighteen months after that, no longer in love (which makes me full of shit) and missing my guitar (her name was Lotus Blossum). I can’t remember the lick that opens “Begin the Begin” or even anything I’ve written, but I feel sort of empty, sort of not like me, to no longer even have a guitar. I don’t know. I was hardly good at it (one of the reasons it faded from my life), but I liked it. Playing it took my mind off things and gave me an outlet to express emotion. I’m not sure if it’s a great investment for me to buy another one, though. There are many things I need that are far more pertinent to my everyday life, and it’s not like I could ask my family for one for the holidays (they’d want to know what happened to the one I already owned, and then I would have to explain that I’m a fool when I’m in love). Oh well. In the meantime I suppose I’ll keep listening to my R.E.M. before putting them safely back into the vault, and possibly meditating on the way love makes me full of shit.

Monday, Monday

2006-11-13T15:16:00.000-06:00

Several things:

1) I attended a Foundation Center grant seminar on Friday and learned that according to their recommendations, we do everything incorrectly where I work. When I asked how a staff of one could possibly implement all of their best practices, they suggested I find another job. In case you didn’t know, I have a very good job. Yes I am annoyed often by people around the job, but that’s the reality of working in cubicles. Other than that, the work is challenging and sometimes, but not constantly, overwhelming. I have the most competitive benefits package I’ve ever had, and a pretty competitive salary as well. So the Foundation Center’s suggestion to me is about as unrealistic as their suggestions for grant process.

2) The Steelers! How I love my Steelers, and how happy it makes me to see them win. And what a game! The whole game was totally back and forth, with either team capable of winning. But who won? That’s right, Pittsburgh!

3) DVD player woe. I’m losing the Netflix game these days, losing it badly. My dvd player broke some weeks back, and since then my Netflix consumption pretty much stalled out. I tried to watch some of the movies on my computer, but this ate up so much time as I was unable to multitask and do more than just watch something. Then, out of nowhere, the DVD drive on my computer stopped working. It works occasionally, but is totally unreliable right now. I’m not sure how to fix this, although I think it is easily fixable. So Saturday night I decided I wanted nothing more than to watch the Netflix movies that have been sitting around my apartment for weeks and drink some Beam and Diet and eat Hamburger Helper (of all things!). So I stopped at Wal-Mart and purchased a new DVD player. And then I learned that my new DVD player will not plug into my old TV, so I still can’t watch my movies.

4) Rather than rehash all of this, I am just cutting and pasting from an email I sent to T-Rex last night when this thing happened. i was not able to really get back to sleep because I was awakened every hour or so by this, but since I never saw the man, there wasn't anything I could do. Also, when I told people at work today they were just as shocked as I that I was asked to walk out into the alley in the middle of the night to look for this person. Anyway:

> um, can I be a terrible human being for a second? So it's 1:30 in the morning
> and I'm awake because I've woken out sleep 3 times this evening by the most
> horrible retching going on the alley behind my house. It's been happening on
> and off for about 2 hours or more. I thought about it for a long while and
> decided it had to be coming from the alley since it sounded so close and like
> it was echoing off the building. Then I decided that I needed to call 911
> because it was likely a homeless person, since a person with a home and with
> means would have tried to make it there after 2.5 hours, and that perhaps
> this person was in need of serious medical attention. So I made the call and
> the fire dept (paramedics) asked me to see if he was still there, only I
> couldn't tell from any of my windows, so they asked me to go out on my porch,
> but I still could tell, so then they asked me to walk out there to the alley
> to see what I could see. And this is where I got totally put off because
> I'm a terrible human being. First off, how often are we told to avoid alleys
> at night when we're alone? Second, it's 1:30 a.m. and I am in my pajamas and
> outside and around back to the alley is 3 flights of stairs down and outside
> in the cold. And frankly, I'm not really keen on running into whomever it is
> out there getting sick. A homeless man or a drunkard, neither sound like
> someone I'd want to encounter under such circumstances. Anyway, I didn't see
> him, and I told them that, so they told me to just call back if I did see
> him. So I guess I'll try to go back to sleep and just be woken out of sleep
> aagin in about 30 minutes when he has another puking fit, or maybe tomorrow
> morning I'll hear a bunch of noise and learn that they discovered the body of
> a man who died from dehydration and exposure in my alley. I guess I just
> expected them to do a driveby and look for the man, which is what they do in
> Anchorage under similar circumstances, whic granted is a much smaller city.
> But if they don't then people will find the bodies of homeless people buried
> under snow banks come spring. It's awful.

I <3 Winter

2006-11-07T09:39:00.000-06:00

It's true, I do. I think I tend to look pretty good in the winter, though that was not the case in the deep, dark and neverending winter of Alaska. Just yesterday I checked the temperature there and saw that it's 17 degrees in Anchorage, compared to our balmy 55. But in general, winterness, I love it: snow, icicles, foggy breath, hot chocolate, fireplaces, the silence of snowfall, twinkly lights, the smell of cold. I was born in wniter. And of course, I love the holidays. I even bought a pretty, sparkly holiday dress to hang in my closet, as I have nowhere to wear it. But now I think it all makes sense that I love winter because I've just taken an online quiz and learned that I am a deep winter. My best colors are jewel tones like magenta and chinese blue. it's true! I do look good in colors like that! And I figured this out in such a weird way: in winter I wear a ring set with an amesthyst and a pale blue stone. I only wear it in winter because it's a size 6, and in summer my fingers swell up to a size 7. But it looks so fantastic on me that I started to wonder what I would look like in clothing in those tones. Lo and behold, it's not black, but it still looks good. Really though, this is all trite and unimportant. My wardrobe is still all black because replacing it--even one piece at a time--is very costly. And in the end who cares that I love winter and being out in the cold, cool colors of it when everyone around me hates it and deingrates it every chance they get.

Non sequitor: you know how I hate the way I am teased over my faithfullness to the Pittsburgh Steelers? Well, I was talking about it to Mere over the weekend and I came up with a good comeback. Let's see if I can remember it here... "Wow, thanks for trashing the team that represents the last place I knew that truly felt like home, and thanks for mocking me and all the other fans who, for 3 hours out of every week in a very short season, feel like we're home again." It was soemthing like that.

Humor

2006-11-03T15:33:00.000-06:00

the Cutting Edge

(57% dark, 42% spontaneous, 21% vulgar)

your humor style:
CLEAN SPONTANEOUS DARK

Your humor's mostly innocent and off-the-cuff, but somehow there's

something slightly menacing about you. Part of your humor is making

people a little uncomfortable, even if the things you say aren't themselves

confrontational. You probably have a very dry delivery, or are seriously

over-the-top. Your type is the most likely to appreciate a good insult

and/or broken bone and/or very very fat person dancing.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: David Letterman - John Belushi

The 3-Variable Funny Test!
- it rules -

If you're interested, try my best friend's best test: The Genghis Khan Genetic Fitness Masterpiece

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on darkness

You scored higher than 99% on spontaneity

You scored higher than 99% on vulgarity

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Irony and the lack thereof

2006-10-30T19:16:00.000-06:00

Did you know that my graduate advisor thought I was one of those ironic hipster youths who can't appreciate anything and can only fake like things because I can't commit to actually trying to apprciate something, let alone liking it? I know I've played that role to a degree in the past, but part of why I felt the need to run off to Alaska was an effort on my part to break out of that role, to break my physical proximity to that role. I think my own brother has even implied on occasion that I am overly concerned with being cool that I do not let myself enjoy things that are uncool (I could be wrong about that, though). I think these are true about me, but only to a degree, and I really think I'm far more sincere than people realize. Probably partly because I sound terribly insincere the more sincere I am. It's like my anti-superhero power.

I've called for the death of irony before because I am tired of the posturing and the inability to, in the words of Slate writer Mike Malloy, "earnestly appreciate something for its intrinsic worth again." I'm tired of slouchy boots and sweater dresses. I'm tired of ugly being the new hot, of orange being the new pink, of, I don't know, a lot of things that aren't even ironic anymore because people have forgotten it was ironic to begin with.

That said, I'm having some trouble with the utter lack of irony, as housed in a coworker of mine. Her existence is troubling to me because while I think she has done interesting things and experienced a lot in life, and while we share similar political beliefs and a fondness for theater, I can't stand to be around her. Not one bit. I grow more and more aggravated throughout the day and it's affecting my work productivity. I know this is all on me; she's just going about her day and I'm silently seething, turning into a stinking blob of annoyed. She has a way of popping into every conversation, always trying to be a part of the fun crowd. Which I understand, we're not really an exclusionary office, and I think everyone but me appreciates her zest for life.

Ah, her completely unironic zest for life. When something reminds her of a song, she'll sing it for you. Not just a bar or two so you can get the idea, but the entire song. Her spontaneous music recitals have always reminded me of the way Samwise Gamgee from The Lord of the Rings would recite poetry, with his hands behind his back, all serious and formal for the occasion. We can't make it through a staff meeting, or lunch, or a water cooler conversation without hearing a song. It drives me crazy.

But you see, now I'm worried, insecure, unsure. Is it annoying to me because it is extremely uncool? Were my advisor and others correct by saying that I can't enjoy anything remotely uncool? Would I appreciate her singing in the office, hell, would I join in if I weren't so worried about my image? Would it not bother me, or at least not bother me in the same way if she were singing ironically? Why do I think it's so awful for her to just break out into song whenever the hell she feels like it? Don't we all sort of want to do that? Why don't we? Are we all too afraid to tarnish our "cool"? Is there a time and place for this--like maybe it's ok to break out into song with your good friends and family but not so much with your professional colleagues? But then why is that? Is the business world afraid of being seen earnestly appreciating singing in the office? Or maybe it's just really annoying to being singing ditties from musicals while people are trying to work and it has nothing to do at all with being aloof or cool but with just trying not to go insane. I know I'm probably having a disprortionate reaction to this woman, but how long would you hold up if the person in the cubicle next to you broke out into song and dance three times a day for the last 7 months you've been working together?

Oh, and you know what just occured to me? She'll probably find this blog and read it and get upset and it'll go to HR and I'll have to be the "I didn't know my public online blog was being read, etc." fool. Sigh. I can't win.

Costuminess

2006-10-29T14:48:00.000-06:00

So I've uploaded some pictures of the two costumes I wore recently: the dirty cop from the law show we did a couple of weeks ago, and the Magic 8-Ball from last night's parties. Unfortunately in the 8-Ball photos you can't really see how I was able to flip the answers around to randomly answer any yes or no question, nor can you see that I had the 8 for the 8-ball pinned to my back.

Friday's Feast

2006-10-27T10:52:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Seventeen

Appetizer: Create a new candle scent.
Ben-Gay

Soup: Name one way you show affection to others.
I'm showing affection when I send multiple emails in one day

Salad: What is your favorite writing instrument?
My brain! OK, my computer

Main Course: If you were given $25 to spend anywhere online, from which site would you buy?
Amazon, probably. I want to buy some opera, and also a good recording of the 1812 Overture.

Dessert: Are you dressing up for Halloween? If so, what are you going to be?
Having recently dressed like a dirty cop, I’m going for clean, wholesome and clever for Halloween: A Magic 8-Ball!

Found!

2006-10-27T10:27:00.000-05:00

OK, more found poetry from spam. I'm going to compile a chapbook of this stuff. I love this one, too, although I added the final line for effect. I'm an artist, what can I say!

Not much, you may think

troops remain there and oust the insurgents.

Many campsites fill fast so.

Not much, you may think.

com Albany GuideSite. "I know many Americans are not satisfied

with the situation in Iraq," Bush said in a White House news conference. You just have to do it.

Not much, you may think.

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at rest areas on the New York State. This time Maher listed the reasons why Bush

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Not much, you may think.

Your job performance has been solid, and on occasion, even praiseworthy.
Participating employers include AFLAC, AIM Services, CDTA, Charter One Bank,
Manpower,.

com the career resource.

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A personal coach is someone who can sit outside of your problems and help you see

what is going on.

How can you change the climate of a hostile workplace?

Not much, you may think.

preachin' the fall shows

2006-10-25T08:47:00.000-05:00

For some of you who don't know me well (and for those of you who do), you may think that I do nothing but watch TV all the time. This isn't necessarily true. I do watch a lot of TV. I watch it almost every night. I really like it. If I'm not watching TV then I'm watching movies. Although not so much doing that now that my dvd player is broken. But I'm a multitasker. I clean while watching TV. I write grants while watching TV. I work on websites while watching TV. I write while watching TV. I also do all of those things without the TV on (I like music and I like silence, too) sometimes. Anyway, I just wanted to qualify that before getting into this:

I have long been a fan of "House". Well, I guess for 2 years, since it's had 2 full seasons so far. I enjoy it. It's gross, it's funny, Hugh Laurie is hot, etc. But I just can't watch it anymore, not because there's something wrong with the season, I'm sure there's not, but because now I'm a full-fledged die-hard fan of "Friday Night Lights." I've always liked Kyle Chandler, and after seeing him in both King Kong last year and in a guest star role on "Grey's" I was happy to see him back on TV in his own starring role as Coach Taylor of the Dillon High School Panthers. This show is awesome. I think it would be awesome even if I didn't like football (and I'm NOT a fan of high school football). I can't explain how the creators of this show have developed (or are developing, we're only 4 shows into the 1st season) interesting characters against a starkly beautiful Texas landscape, backgrounded with indie rock guitars. And it works. Really well. I would read some of TWOP's recaps of the show to get a better understanding of what's happening. I love how they build the show through the week and the prep for the Friday game, without ever really ending in a long scene of the actual play. It builds suspense like nothing else. Even when they bring out the tired cliches, these actors, this direction, make it happen.

I'm serious, I know I've been preaching the "Heroes" love nonstop lately, but check out "Friday Night Lights" next Monday night after it. It's a damn good show.

You know

2006-10-23T20:11:00.000-05:00

I'm having a weird moment of something like nostalgia. I'm suddenly kind of sad that the Matt LeBlanc spinoff vehicle--Joey--was cancelled. I never even in watched the show, nor is it the sort of thing I'd probably like. I just sort of wish it were in the world for some reason.

Oh well, Heroes is on! How can I be sad in a world with Heroes!!!???

Foiled

2006-10-22T19:25:00.000-05:00

So my X-Files Season One disc 6 is craked in half. Oh Netflix, why must you dash my hopes like this? So no X-Files for me. And my other Netflix movies are "Motorcycle Diaries" and "The Sea Inside." I'm sure these are good movies. Good movies that I want to see, just not tonight. I mean, you can see the difference between those movies and Season One X-Files, right? So I don't know what to do. I'm watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition, and DH is next, but man, I'm so disappointed. I want none of it.

Reward and Eating

2006-10-22T18:23:00.000-05:00

I've read over and over in magazines, etc., that it's easier to have a healthy diet and healthy eating habits when you don't equate food with reward (or punishment, I suppose, although I've never made myself eat, say, brussel sprouts because I didn't get enough work done). But I don't know how to do this. So today I managed to finish a grant, update my website (not my blog), search for a web designer to design the website I want to make for my parents, clean my apartment, and watch 3 hours of football. So now it's about 6:30, and it's dark outside and chilly, and I'm ready to curl up and relax all evening long. I don't have good food in my house (I should have gone to the grocery store, but I didn't want to give up my parking spot), so I decided it would be lovely to order food in and watch episodes of the X-Files all night. Tonight I'm going to be so relaxed I won't even be a slave to Desperate Housewives! So I've ordered myself a roast beef sandwich, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and root beer float from a nearby deli. Now, this is a treat. This is a reward. I know that if I were not feeling so good about what I've accomplished today I would be eating plain rice and working all night. But how does one not reward with food? I suppose I could try shopping, but I have a spending problem, so that's no good. And while I know that food is an expense, this is $10 we're talking. Were I to shop as reward, I probably would spend much more. I could pamper: bubble baths and such. But I take hot baths almost everyday, unless I'm in a hurry. It's not that I have to pamper myself like that, but actually that as someone who experiences somewhat chronic pain in my hip, hot baths are really good for pain relief. So I don't know. The food thing goes with pampering, because even if my fridge and cupbards were perfectly stocked from a trip to Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, I wouldn't be experiencing the luxury of someone bringing me a full meal up 3 flights of stairs right to my door. Any thoughts on this?

Friday's Feast

2006-10-20T15:15:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Sixteen

Appetizer: What is your favorite beverage?
Diet coke. Or Kettle One vodka.

Soup: Name 3 things that are on your computer desk at home or work.
At work: piles of papers I can’t bear to look at, some proofs of an invitation I’m designing, and a water bottle.

Salad: On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being highest), how honest do you think you are?
Eek. I don’t know. I’m pretty honest. Maybe a 7? But I’m also really sneaky. Or I don’t speak if I know it’s just gonna come out as lies. I withhold. I don’t know. 6? I still think I’m far more honest than most people.

Main Course: If you could change the name of one city in the world, what would you rename it and why?
After Sienna Miller’s recent attempt to rename Pittsburgh, I’ve sort of lost my stomach for city renaming. Although there is a town in Ohio called “Gratiot”, pronounced “Gray Shit.” That could maybe use a new name.

Dessert: What stresses you out? What calms you down?
Today stresses me out. Seriously, I’m bummed out. Calms me down? A hot bath and some classical music. But usually, the only thing that calms me down is doing whatever it is that needs to be done.

Messiness and Missingness

2006-10-19T11:59:00.000-05:00

Sorry I haven’t been blogging lately. I’ve been totally out of sorts since I got back from my trip last week. I was jetlagged and now my timing is still off because I’m trying to catch up what I missed last week, my apartment is a disaster zone, which always makes me a little nuts, I haven’t made my bed in a week, which means the blankets and sheets are all messed up now and I’ve just been crawling into the bad sideways in order to not be short-sheeted every night. Last night we had a fundraising show for the reading series I’m involved with, so I donned a slutty cop costume and police brutalitied money out of our audience. Tonight Jamaica Kincaid is reading at Columbia College, so I’m headed there after work. If you’ve never read “A Small Place” I suggest you find it and read it.

Yoshimi Needs a Friend

2006-10-17T18:00:00.000-05:00

But I think I'll wait till after the New Year to adopt a little male kitten (male because I hear cats get along best with other cats of the opposite sex) and kitten because I need something young and full of energy to keep up with Yoshimi, and because then he'll be young enough to grow up feeling like they belong together. And when I get this kitten, do you know what his name will be? That's right: Hiro Nakamura.

Friday's Feast

2006-10-13T14:08:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred Fifteen

Appetizer : Approximately how many hours per week do you spend reading other blogs?
Oh, I don't really know. Maybe 3 or 4? Probably more than that, though.

Soup: Your community wants everyone to give one thing to put into a time capsule. What item would you choose to include?
Probably a newspaper or magazine. Something that shows both the news stories of the day and the look of the times.

Salad: What is the most interesting tourist attraction you've ever visited?
I just tried to find a picture of this to illustrate, but I guess I don't have it digitally. There's this scenic vew stop along the Seward Highway in AK with a big sign that says "Tourism" and lists things to look at. The sign is riddled with bullet holes. It's not the most interesting attraction, but it may be the funniest.

Main Course: If you could give an award to anyone for anything, who would it be and what would the award be titled?
I might give the "Most Awesomest Sociologist" award to T-Rex, or maybe the "Best Spiky Hair Since Early Sting" Award to Baby Tristan.

Dessert: What do you think your favorite color reveals about your personality?
Uh, that I love purple?

I'm Back!

2006-10-12T11:31:00.000-05:00

And what a trip I've had. A real Alaskan adventure. As my friend Jonathan says, I'm beyond even pretending to be interested in the outdoors. Yes folks, I spent days wandering the Dimond Mall like I was a zombie in PA. I ate (ok, attempted and failed) a 20 oz. steak at the Double Musky. I went to see a hippie band and spent the whole time looking over my shoulder in fear of running into anyone I may have slept with at some point (which made my friend point out that we were surrounded by hippies, not indie or punk rockers, so I was likely safe). I sat outside and had a martini at Bernies and ate some delicious sushi at Pete's. And with the delicious sushi I had the delicious raw oysters farmed right there in AK in Katchemak Bay...and two and half hours later ended up sicker than I had ever been before, save maybe the time I alcohol-poisoned myself when I was 22. The night before I was set to leave I got sick all over AL's car, broke her car door (apparently flinging the car door open in 100 mph winds in order to throw up is a bad idea), and ended up in the hospital. No, my stomach wasn't pumped (I think I had pretty much already done all the work there), but I was severely dehydrated and you have to be careful with that shellfish bacteria. Anyway, I arrived back in Chicago last night, a day later and much weaker than I expected to be. I haven't eaten much in the past few days, except for saltine crackers, so I'm kind of light-headed, too. But please, if you ever find yourself in AK, don't take this as a reason to avoid raw oysters. I cannot express how delicious they are, and how worth it it is to risk food posioning. And really, I've eaten hundreds of oysters in Anchorage, and this is the only time I've gotten sick, so the risks aren't even all that high. Besides, some anti-biotics, anti-nausea meds, and a saline pack later, you'll be fine even if you do get sick...

And now, for your enjoyment, baby pictures...

FYI

2006-10-04T12:27:00.000-05:00

I love aquariums

blogging break

2006-10-04T09:30:00.000-05:00

I'm going out of town tomorrow, back up to AK to visit a good friend of mine and her brand-new baby boy. I'm really excited. I'll catch all of you back here next week.

My Show

2006-10-04T09:29:00.000-05:00

is tonight!

Has Childhood changed?

2006-10-03T11:44:00.000-05:00

At work I often overhear the conversations of my workmates or supervisor and their children. I work in a family services nonprofit, so I’m exposed to family life all the time—that of our participants and that of my coworkers. Frankly, I don’t understand childhood anymore. I’m glad I’m not a parent, and at 29, I damn well could be. In fact, I believe I’m the only woman here older than 26 who does not have children. Let me just explain what childhood sounds like to me now, from what I can hear:

It is terrible to leave your child alone for more than 2 hours unless that child is at least 14.
A child must be involved in organized play at all times; if not, he or she will engage in criminal behavior or somehow hurt himself or herself.
One must be able to drop everything one is doing to answer a child’s phone call, whether the child is in dire need or not, and the child is allowed to call at any time, lest he or she feel unwanted or unloved.
Alone time is very bad for children.

Please understand, my childhood was more like this:
In the summer I spent almost all of my free time in the woods, climbing trees and catching fish. Alone.
In the winter, I would come home from school and immediately get dressed for outside play and spend a few hours outside by myself of with my brother doing things like sled riding and making snow forts.
When I was 10 I got my first 10-speed and started riding my bike to town (about 2 miles away, along US Route 40) to see my friends from school.
By the summer after 5th grade I was allowed to ride my bike, alone, to the pool, where I spent all day (roughly 6 hours) with my friends with no parental supervision.
Most of my friends were babysitting and making money at age 11.
My brother had a paper route when he was a kid.
We were only allowed to call our mom at work and interrupt if something was terribly wrong.
We were NEVER allowed to call my father at work unless someone had died or something.
Hmmm, also there were tons of chores like weekly thorough hosue cleanings and lawn mowings. And my brother was perpetually made to move a giant pile of dirt by wheelbarrow from one point of the back yard to another.
There was also the woodstove, so for my brother that meant constant chopping of wood all summer long and for me, wood stacking. That central air/heating thing we got when I was 17 years old was the best investment ever.

OK, let me put this in more context. First off, I realize there is a huge difference between the vulnerable populations we help and the children of my coworkers. While children in North Lawndale probably really do need some organized activity to keep them off the streets between 3 p.m. and 6 p.m. (when most adolescents begin to engage in criminal activity), I’m guessing our North Shore kids don’t have to worry about this as much. And really, I think this post isn’t so much about our kids involved in programming at our centers, but the children of my coworkers.

Also, I know that I grew up in a very small town in the middle of nowhere, and that children in small towns in the middle of nowhere may still be raised the way I was. The city is a very different beast, and I guess the suburbs are, too. I know this, yet I still think there is such over-parenting-over-protecting going on that it creeps me out. As one commentor on Salon’s Broadsheet said, it’s not that s/he wants to smother the child, but that the other parents would freak out if s/he didn’t smother the child. I mean freak out in a calling Child Protection Services kind of way. And from listening to my coworkers bash other parents for allowing their kids some, you know, freedom, I don’t think that Salon parent was exaggerating.

It makes me kind of sad because I would have been crushed if I were forced into organized activities with other students who weren’t necessarily my friends. I would have rebelled. I would have been terrible. I know this because I can’t stand participating in organized physical activities. I loved playing kickball in my front yard with my brother and the neighbor boys, but hated it at school. I would play badminton with my mom but not volleyball at school. I briefly belonged to things like Girl Scouts and the Mini Cheerleaders (we cheered at 5th grade football games), but I didn’t like it (I thought I would, which is why I joined in the first place). I just liked doing things at my own pace, my own way. I liked to read. A lot. I also liked to paint. I didn’t want to be part of a book society or after school book club; I just wanted to be left alone in my room so I could read this book already. I think my parents made some good choices by raising us with so much freedom. I’m pretty independent. I feel good when I’m alone and am able to complete tasks without a taskmaster. If I have a problem I try to solve it. I only get upset when I’ve thought through my options and I don’t like any of them, and that is when I call on my friends for advice. I try not to get histrionic before attempting to solve the problem (although, you know, sometimes…).

I don’t know. I think about the kids of my coworkers, and I wonder how they’re ever going to function in life. There is an intergenerational dependence that I don’t understand. I don’t know how a 45 year old woman can be so entangled with her own mother, still needing her permission to do things, then in turn smothering her own daughter and not allowing her any freedom to make mistakes and learn. It’s always easy to be a backseat parent, I know. And oooh, who am I, child-free, single woman of 29 years to say anything about parenting?

Still. I was a child once. I was given responsibilities and freedoms at an early age then, and I think I grew in leaps and bounds because of that. I just feel bad when I see an 11 year old girl who is very intelligent incapable of making any decision on her own because it has been insisted that all of her decisions be made by a parent, and the parent’s decision by her own parent.

I Love Heroes!!!!

2006-10-02T21:07:00.000-05:00

Oooooh again, I have to say, I love Heroes. I love Nakamura Hiro. I like the single stripping mom (who was aerobicizing queen on trial for murder in Legally Blonde). I like the big cop and the super hot Indian professor (I think his name is Professor Yum). I even like the cheerleader. Mondays, it looks like you no longer suck!

Classic Hollywood Beautiful

2006-10-02T15:45:00.000-05:00

I’m fascinated by Hollywood beauty, as many people are (Joan Rivers has a career because of this). The other day, I made a comment on Pittgirl’s blog about how a contestant on the bachelor was high school pretty but not a Hollywood beauty.

I know that beauty is subjective, that we all have different tastes, but I’m always swayed by a certain look that comes with a certain grace, inexplicably perfect, and somehow it sets an actress apart from everyone else. I’m talking Grace Kelly here. Young Elizabeth Taylor. Beauty that seemed unnatural and regal, yet was simultaneously natural to that person. Contemporary examples may include Angelina Jolie, Charlize Theron, Mariska Hargitay, and Katherine Heigl. I mean, when I saw Izzie in that prom dress in last season’s finale of Grey’s Anatomy, I was stunned. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. I think my jaw did drop. And please understand, I’m a perfectly straight woman.

It’s funny to me because I usually think women (and men) who are a little but quirky are more attractive. I prefer Parker Posey and her underbite, and Sandra Oh with her long, long face, and that crazy jaw on Reese Witherspoon to the perfectly boring (to me) look of say, Jennifer Anniston. Except when it comes to this mythos of the Hollywood beauty, at which point I get too starry-eyed to think about theories of facial symmetry and the patriarchal power behind the search to be beautiful.

Anyway, I’m curious about what you think of beauty: who is and how are they beautiful? Are Hollywood stars beautiful? Is Hollywood beauty just another anglo-centric idea?

Men’s Fashion and a German Shepard in a suitcase

2006-09-29T12:32:00.000-05:00

I said before that I didn’t like it when men wore cargo short and baggy t-shirts. Allow me to elaborate: I’m tired of men looking like they’re high school boys, like they might throw a bal around during lunch then drive out to the ravine after school for some swimming before heading to the bank where they can ollie things in the parking lot all night.

I’m not saying that I want men my age to wear suits all the time, or tuxes (ha), or even dress like that soooooo 2003 term metrosexuals. Basically I’m interested in men whose clothes fit and aren’t falling apart; whose clothes are clean and don’t reek of two years of B.O.; whose clothes reveal that they put just a little bit of thought into their appearance. I don’t like the sloppy indie look of the guy in the Mac commercials (not that I even like the commercials). But I don’t like the look of his uptight PC counterpart, either. I don’t know why it’s hard to find men in their late 20’s and early 30’s who think it’s a good idea to not dress like kids (or cologne-soaked gigolos, which seems to be the only other look they choose).

OK. I’m not going to get this story correct because I missed the first half of it. Something about a woman whose German Shepard died. She called the vet ho said, bring him in and we’ll take care of the body. The woman didn’t have a car, so she put the body of the dog in a suitcase and got on the train to get to the vet’s office. While on the train, some guy kept staring at her. She thought he was totally creepy. He started talking to her, asking her where she was headed, what she was doing. He asked what was in the suitcase. She said (stupidly) that she was moving and didn’t have a car, so she was transporting her electronics in a suitcase. Soooooo she had to transfer trains and the man followed her. He asked if she needed help and she said no, she had it. He insisted that he help her with an obviously heavy suitcase. Finally she relented, at which point he punched her in the stomach and ran off with the suitcase.

Ok. Now just let all aspects of that story sink in. Man that’s funny.

Fridays Feast

2006-09-29T12:01:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Thirteen

Appetizer: What is your favorite herb or spice?
Rosemary

Soup: Name a song you like but haven't heard in a long time.
That Von Bondies song Chuck put on a mixed tape for me. I have no idea what it’s called, but I once heard it on CSI.

Salad: If you were to take just one minute to write down as many things as you can think of that you need (not want) to do, approximately how many things would there be?
Probably about 25 things to do…

Main Course: Tell something interesting about one of your family members (nothing scandalous, please, just something unique).
My mother gave birth to me when she was 41 years old.

Dessert: What's the latest you've ever stayed awake?
The longest I’ve ever stayed awake was approximately between 36 and 40 hours. I don’t know what the hell I was doing.

MySpace and Such

2006-09-28T18:38:00.000-05:00

I don't know. I miss the maturity of Friendster. I wish my friends would return to it. When I log into Myspace, ads blink and yell at me. When I lick on my friends' profiles, music I don't want to hear interrupts my computer, which often is playing the music I want to hear, and crazy animated pictures obscure the profiles to the point where I can't read a word anyway. Rather than their own pictures, people post obscene pictures along with ridiculous comments and announcements. I know, you're probably thinking that I shouldn't have accepted such people as my friends. But the thing is, they ARE my friends. People I know. People I like.

Back in the Friendster days we had uniform profiles, but at least they had clean lines and classy looks. We laughed as the younger people we knew flocked to Myspace, as though they had to belong to the every online social networking site as it developed. One by one people began dropping off of Friendster. Those of us who stayed laughed and said it fit our demographic better; myspace was much to young (I still agree with this). We said we liked Friendster because it made you work for it; you had to have faith in it, sort of like with Blogger.

What made me switch, eventually, was a mix of things. I moved my Friendster blog to Blogger, and when that happened, many of my friends who kept tabs on me through one site migrated to the next. Also, as part of business (for the reading series and such that I help with), I moved to Myspace because I found more of our involved artists there.

But don't get me wrong. I've still not warmed to Myspace. I think of it as a wild college party, where some frat boys are doing keg stands while a punk band plays in the basement and a few half naked girls flirt with anything with a dick. And sure, I've had plenty of fun at such parties in my life, but these days I find I'd usually rather sit down at the dinner party with lots of wine that is Friendster.

What do you say, folks? Can we return?

Barbara Walters

2006-09-27T21:27:00.000-05:00

is interviewing Steve Irwin's wife. This is the weirdest interview ever, and I hate her interview style, but I gotta say, I'm totally in tears...

T.O, T.O.

2006-09-27T15:35:00.000-05:00

Can you believe this? Has there ever been football player who has gotten more press for not playing football? Actually, I think something similar happened to my friend M. when she had an allergic reaction to the antibiotics student health gave her. She had to call Pitt police to take her to the emergemcy room, and it came out in the police blotter as a suicide attempt.

List Mania, or More Useless info

2006-09-26T10:09:00.000-05:00

About me. I got this from Paperback Writer. It's kind of fun.

10 Favorites:
Favorite Season: Autumn
Favorite Color: Purple
Favorite Time: bath time
Favorite Food: sushi, Indian food, lasagna, anything my mom cooks
Favorite Drink: Diet Coke, Iced tea, green tea, Kettel One vodka, Beam and Diet, whatever’s on special…
Favorite Ice Cream: Strawberry. Cherry-Vanilla
Favorite Place: in my car if I’m leaving the city (roadtripping)
Favorite Sport: Steelers Football!
Favorite Male Actor: Ooh, I don’t know. I love Alan Cumming in everything he does (I just watched “Reefer Madness: The Musical” the other night). Oh yeah, and Christopher Eccelston. Favorite Female Actor: Reese Witherspoon, Julianne Moore

9 Currents:
Current Feeling: stressed
Current Drink: strong coffee: cream, no sugar
Current Time: 9:45 a.m.
Current Show on TV: I haven’t seen morning television in years.
Current Mobile used: Cingular, but my phone is broken. Oh yeah, that reminds me to look for a Cingular store near my office.
Current Windows Open: No windows for us schmucks in the cubes. But I do have Outlook, Explorer, and Word open on my computer.
Current Underwear: Who knows. They’re uncomfortable though.
Current Clothes: gray pinstripe pants with a black crocheted sweater, a red beaded necklace and red heels.
Current Thought: I wonder if anyone will buy me lunch today, since I still have no bank card…

8 Firsts:
First Nickname: Mi-chan. My parents called me that. Mi is sort for my name, and chan is a Japanese term of endearment for child.
First Kiss: Um, I think I went from never-been-kissed straight to sliding into home but not quite making it. My first kiss was pretty hot. Oh, unless you count a game of spin the bottle when I was 10. I don’t actually remember kissing the boys I played with (we were more apt to get into fisticuffs than to kiss, although they did see me without a shirt once when I jumped out of a tree but my shirt got snagged on a branch. Man, my 10 year-old self was silly).
First Crush: Matt Curtis. Damn I loved that kid.
First Best Friend: Kathryn or Jessica. I’m a jerk because Kathryn lives in Chicago and I haven’t gotten around to calling her. I haven’t seen her since 1995.
First Vehicle I Owned: Well, I guess my parents owned my first car, a 1993 Ford Escort (I love you, baby). The first car I bought was 1989 Toyota Camry. I then sold it to a friend and used the money to move to Alaska. In 2004, I bought a 1993 Toyota Corolla, which is what I drive now. I LOVE my car, the Captain.
First Job: When I was 15 I served ice cream and burgers at a local joint called “Dairy Burger” (a vegan’s nightmare).
First Date: Dates? No, we never dated so much as hooked anywhere from one night to several months (or years) at a time. But there was a guy in college who asked me out at work. He took me on 3 lovely dates and sent me flowers at my parents’ house over Christmas break. So, you know, I ran away from him. Heh.
First Pet: Cottonball, the cutest little white kitten ever. I watched him get run over when I was 8.

7 Lasts:
Last Drink: jasmine tea
Last Kiss: eh, awhile ago
Last Meal: oatmeal and banana chips
Last Web Site Visited: Publish or Perish
Last Movie Watched: Reefer Madness: The Musical. Totally recommended
Last Phone Call: Who knows, my phone is broken
Last TV Watched: Family Guy

6 Have You Ever...
Have You Ever Broken the Law: I’ll never tell
Have You Ever Been Drunk: why yes
Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn't Know: I once kissed a school of goldfish on Halloween, or, a bunch of guys in a fraternity in goldfish costumes
Have You Ever Been in the Middle/Close to Gunfire: not in the urban sense, no. But I’ve shot a rifle and handguns before.
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Yes
Have You Ever Broken Anyone's Heart: Who knows

5 Things:
Things You Can Hear Right Now: The printer. The phones. My coworker chewing.
Things On Your Bed: Pillows, blankets. Cat hair. Clothes. My bed is a mess right now.
Things You Ate Today: oatmeal and banana chips
Things You Do When You Are Bored: pick at scabs
Things You Do For Comfort: cook, eat, watch movies, go on bike rides

4 Places You Have Been Today:
Brown line train
Dearborn Street
Blue line train
work

3 Things On Your Desk Right Now:
drafts of proposals
empty bowl that used to have oatmeal in it
Stacks of folders

2 Choices:
Salt or Pepper: pepper – Pepper!
Hot or Cold: Eh…I like hot, but I look better in cold…

1 Place You Want To Visit:
China. I want to take a train all the way across it

Heroes!

2006-09-26T09:22:00.000-05:00

So, last night I tuned into NBC's new show, Heroes. And...I like it! I understand that it's hard to get a sense of who any of these characters are in just one hour, but I hope part of the fun of this show lies in their development (please writers, please do character development...).

I even have a favorite character already, although I guess anyone who knows me will not be surprised by this: I love the Japanese guy. I love the dork who runs around his office exclaiming that he has learned how to manipulate the space-time continuum. It totally makes me want to hang out with him and read manga (uh, not that I can read Japanese) and watch Star Trek and make jokes (unfortunately, it does not make me want to date him, to the chagrin of sweet dorks everywhere. I mean, shouldn't women like me want to date guys like that? I don't know. Actually, I think women like me really just don't date; we work...). One thing though, NBC? Did you hire the screenwriters from Gung Ho or something? Your dialogue about Japan seems a bit off. I mean, I get the conformity thing, but it didn't come across right.

Anyway, if anyone missed it, they'll be re-airing the premiere tonight.

More Found Poetry

2006-09-25T11:07:00.000-05:00

This is from a phishing/spam email I just received, from someone who thinks I'll click on their link and enter my credit card and bank info (Ha! as though I have any credit or money!!! It would be like the guy who stole a woman's suitcase only to find a dead german shepard in it...[remind me to tell that story later]). Anyway, the link was then followed by this list of words, in this order and format:

wattle
vassal
old
zodiac
acrid
grieve
agree
squibb
.

olivia
turing
omelet
oneida
blazon
.biopsy
jarvin
impish
turgid
oint
jason
weak
blazon
grisly
.
squeal
icicle
hamal
aid
data
famish
halvah
zone
only
.
passe
vega
olav
agee
.

Toward a New Theory of Fashion

2006-09-25T10:30:00.000-05:00

This one is sort of a no-brainer, actually: fashion is elitist. No, no, hear me out. Last week I complemented a friend of mine on her beautiful necklace, a large, opalescent pendant hanging from a thick silver chain. She said something like, “This old thing? I’m so embarrassed to wear it. It’s sooo 2000.” But really, all it was was flattering. The thickness of the chain balanced the size of the pendant, which offset the severity of her all-black dress and drew attention upward from her cleavage to her more sensual décolletage. As any good necklace should do. Who cares if she bought it six years ago from Express. It still flatters.

And this is wear fashion gets elitist. My theory is that shows like “What Not to Wear” and the abundance of other makeover shows on cable TV are teaching the rest of us how to dress well. Whoever heard straight-leg jeans so much before Stacy London appeared to preach the Gospel? And she was right. For many of us who have curves (and sometimes lumps), straight-leg jeans lengthen our bodies, make them appear more lean. They can help a woman in her twenties appear more mature and together than flare-leg jeans, which is important sometimes in a casual work environment. As close as I am to 30 (less than 6 months away!), my coworkers still often assume I am fresh out of college when I’m dressed down.

Clinton and Stacy also are purveyors of the structured look: a structured jacket can help turn an apple or upside-down triangle shaped woman into an hour-glass-figured woman. By layering, we can create lines that lengthen and slim our torsos. We can flatter our body-types, no matter what they may happen to be (layering also helps me wear button down shirts, which I love. Unfortunately, for some reason, women’s shirts aren’t designed for breasts, as I haven’t been able to wear a button-down shirt that fit (everywhere else) and button it all the way since high school. So layering tank tops underneath the shirt allows me the look and structure of a button-up shirt but without having to button it all the way. Lest all of you small-chested women think the world is made for breasts, a good friend of mine, who happens to be a size 4 and an A cup, recently bought a button-up blouse and was unable to button it over her A cups. Seriously.).

Anyway, as we all know the current trends are moving far away from the straight-legged look. We’ve jumped headfirst into cigarette-slim jeans and skinny black pants and leggings. So my theory of the fashion elite is that for any of the non-willowy among us to look fashionable, they must accept that they will look bad. And, because they look bad, they will look like the C-group girls trying to look cool enough to be in the A-group (thanks, Romy and Michelle, for those delineations). If these women then decide not follow fashion trends and to instead wear what looks good on them, they then will instantly be pegged as unfashionable: it’ll be obvious in their lack of leg warmers and sweater dresses.

But this isn’t any kind new pickle we’re in. This probably is how it always was. I become aware of fashion in cycles, mostly because I only get new clothes every five years or so. This morning I dug through a box, desperate to find the poncho my mom made for me in 1999 (I found it; it’s awesome). I’m OK with fashion being elitist. Not everything can be (or wants to be) populist. And, as always, I’m busy trying to make my own style, a signature miXi look that moves beyond the jeans, high boots and black tops I’m already known for. I’m on the hunt for unique pieces that scream my name. I wan to return to the 2002 me, the one who knew how to look good, the one who loved any accessory that came in red leather (so much so that there was even some guy in Pittsburgh whose nickname for me was red leather). Damn, I miss that red snakeskin purse.

Anyway, that’s all I have now on women’s fashions. I have been meaning to write something about men’s fashions, too, especially about the scourge of cargo shorts and over-sized t-shirts (I had a bit of a breakdown one afternoon this summer while at a beer fest in my neighborhood when I looked around and realized that all of the men my age looked like sloppy 15 year-olds.

Can Irony Die Already?

2006-09-23T14:14:00.000-05:00

I get a lot of catalogues at my house: clothing, electronics, home furnishings and decorations, all in all, just a ton of catalogues. I’m ok with this. I like to peruse the pages and study current trends (in my financial state, studying them—as opposed to partaking of them—is about all I can do. The other night I was looking through a clothing catalogue and I became overwhelmed at how many of the advertised fashions were throwbacks from the 80’s. Flashdance, you know. The women all had on leggings and scrunchy boots, large sweater dresses with oversized belts. I clearly remembered being 10 years old and refusing to wear the Thanksgiving dress my mother had picked out for me. Instead I wore a pair of purple tights with a beige sweater dress, cinched with a pale purple belt. On my feet I wore fake-suede winter boots. I thought I was hawt.*

Well, what I’ve decided is that this all linked that tenuous thing, irony. Except that it has ceased to be ironic. You see, I’m pretty sure that 3 years ago some very hip, fashion-forward, trend-setting, ironic youth thought it would be funny to dress as though they were straight off the Pretty in Pink or Flashdance set. I know how this is, as when I was 21 my friends and I thought it was hilarious to wear monochrome outfits (as though we were each superheroes whose powers were derived from certain colors). Just as we also thought it was hilarious to go to bars and pretend like we were in commercials, always fake laughing and making sure the beer labels pointed out, toward the nonexistent camera. Anyway, so there were some women wearing leggings and legwarmers and a cool hunter spotted them and started, who knows, blogging about the trend, and then designers thought hells yeah, we already know how to do this! And wham. My mailbox is filled with catalogues of ugly clothing.

Irony. Not even good dramatic irony, like when we know that Juliet isn’t dead, only sleeping, but Romeo does not. No, this is more of a cheap and shallow irony. Like my friend G., who often wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. “I bought this shirt because I thought it was funny,” he told me. “but now I actually like Led Zeppelin.” Wow, the irony. Get it? He wore a t-shirt that said Led Zeppelin, but he didn’t actually like Led Zeppelin. Get it? It was funny to me though, because I was rather new to all of this back then (roughly 7 years ago). Also because he ended up liking Led Zeppelin. I’ve often wondered about the things I did years ago, whether I actually enjoyed them and was interested, or if I did that to be funny. For example, when P. and I heard on the radio that the Super Bowl Bar in downtown Pittsburgh was giving away free tickets to see AC/DC, we immediately put on ridiculous black dresses, high heels, lots of lipstick, and headed to the bar. We got on stage, rock and roll screamed our asses off, and won 3 free tickets. I thought the concert was a blast, but was I really enjoying it, or was I enjoying the irony of not actually being that into AC/DC and being there? Same with Oz-fest. I really don’t know. I remember having fun at both things, but I was never really that into metal.

Anyway, I think cheap irony has gotten so out of hand that we’ve forgotten that it’s supposed to be ironic. Like, we’re not supposed to wear leg warmers and sweater dresses (what’s next, NFL-sized shoulder pads?) because we think they look good…we’re supposed to wear them because we think they look bad. But everyone has forgotten that we think they look bad, like they’re all brainwashed into thinking this stuff looks good (yeah, I concede that certain body types look good in it. For instance, I bet Meredith Grey could pull that off, far better than those straight-legged jeans she wore season that she appeared to be drowning in). I’m not really saying that I want us to return to irony, to remember irony as mush as I want us to be aware of we’re actually doing. I mean, I think we should look at fashion as what makes us look and feel our best, and I don’t see how pushing fashions that turn everyone into upside triangles (I’m on already) can do that. Wait…what was I saying? I’m totally losing my point in all of this. Oh, I think that some people are so caught up in the shallow humor of pretending to like things they don’t even like, that people who don’t know any better are taking them seriously. Maybe this is what Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter meant when he claimed irony to be dead five years ago, but I doubt it.

*Hawt: it is ironic for me to use this term, as I do not think that things that are cool are hawt. However, were I ten right now probably I would use the term, so rather than describe my ten-year old self as thinking her outfit was “really super neato and awesome” and maybe even “rad,” I just used today’s equivalent.

Friday's Feast

2006-09-22T10:35:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Twelve

Appetizer: Measured in minutes or hours, how much exercise have you had in the last week?
Ha ha, ha ha ha. Heh. I can’t really measure it terms of time. I don’t “exercise”. I do, however, climb 3 flights of stairs several times a day (I live on the top floor of my building), and walk a couple of miles a day. I have too much to do to “exercise”, however, using my body as transportation is a rather natural thing.

Soup: If you had to change your blog title to something else, what would it be?
Eh, I would probably dismantle it rather than be *forced* to change the name. If, however, a nice name occurred to me, I might change it for the hell of it.

Salad: Name one television show you watched when you were 9-12 years old.
Hmmmm….Night Court?

Main Course: If someone gave you $50 to spend with the one condition that it had to be educational, what would you purchase?
Books. I just bought the “Wind-Up Bird Chronicles” by Murakami. My friend Gregorio once drunkenly scrawled that title on a piece of scrap paper and I’ve been carrying it in my wallet for almost 2 years. I finally just bought the book so I could read it.

Dessert: Do you tend to prefer dark colors, neutral shades, or lighter/pastel hues?
Dark. Dark as my soul. I think I look like a black hole, as in, you can’t really see me, but if you’re not looking directly at me you can see the absence of light. Hee.

Drunken rant

2006-09-21T13:46:00.000-05:00

I sent this email to the ua last night. I was fine up to the point of my trying to get home (and unfortunately, given my level of fatigue of late, I started wanting to go home about 30 minutes after I arrived at my destination. Still, it was worth it to stay right up till the last bus home, as last night's show was a great show). I guess I'd just had enough. Enough of what? I don't know, people maybe. This seems related to my growing need to not be around people at all. Have any of you ever ridden horses before? Horses do this thing where, when you are riding away from the barn, they are all slow and plodding and totally unenthused, but when you return and approach teh barn, it's about all you can do to keep them from breaknig into a canter, so happy to be home are they. That's what I'm like. When I walk down my sidewalk at the end of the day I'm all smiles just thinking about how maybe I'll heat up some curry and have that for dinner then maybe take a bath and finish the Pynchon novel I've been slowing moving through since July (I hadn't been taking as much public transportation the past couple of months, which is when I tend to read, so I haven't made any forward progess ((heh)) in the book).

Anyway, this is the email I sent:
"I hate Chicago. I hate the way people from Chicago talk all kinds of big about how they alone know cold, how they know winter and cold weather, but then when it is 55 degrees and sunny out they moan and bitch about how cold it is outside, and how they can't even walk across the street to get a sandwich at lunchtime. How I come home and the heat is on and my apartment is 80 degrees so I have to turn all the valves on the radiator and open my windows to breathe. I hate the way men call me a stuck-up bitch when I'm waiting for the bus and I don't acknowledge that they're yelling obscene things at me from their trucks while stopped at red lights (not that this didn't happen all the time in Anchorage; I hate it no matter where it happens). I hate that I live in the 3rd largest city in the country with a population of aroun 8 million people yet the bus on my street stop running just after 10:00 at night. Even in Pittsburgh, even in Anchorage, I could stay out till midnight and still get home. So I'm not sure. Does this mean I'm unwanted by Chicago, or does it mean Chicago is unwanted by me?"

So, when I say drunken rant, I mean that I was tipsy when I sent the email, not that I'm drunk now, in the middle of the work day, when I should be, um, working. Also, I am stepping up my public transportation use. That was partly why was so mad last night. I moved here so I wouldn't have to drive unless I wanted to, but then I started driving everywhere. I'm making a very conscious effort not to. it reached a point where I decided I could no longer be called a conservationist because to me, it's not something you are, it's something you do. And I sure as hell wasn't doing it.

This morning I woke up really early so I left work early and took the train in (though I didn't read because I didn't snag a forward-facing seat and I get motion-sick...). I got off in the Loop and rather than transfer to the train that takes me all the way to the office, I used my 30 extra minutes to walk to my office. It felt great, especially since I love this weather: 50 degrees and sunny, cool and crisp. This was much easier because I finally gave in and accepted that if I'm going to live the pedestrian lifestyle I wish to lead, I will have to wear sneakers on my commute and change into the hot ankle boots once I've arrived at work. Maybe I just hate public transportation in the summer time, when the air-conditioner is blasting on the trains... I don't know.

And now it seems I've written an entirely too long post about nothing...

Gearing Up

2006-09-20T16:31:00.000-05:00

For a momentary freak out. Tomorrow afternoon I have a conference call for the HRSA grant I'm working on. And by working on I mean haven't even glanced at. Haven't read the guidances or the material submitted by the client or anything. I need to write a draft of that by the 5th of October. By next Friday, I need to write 2 proposals to the March of Dimes on separate projects, as well as submit another 3 grants to public sources that are due by the 1st (or the 29th, really). So yeah, I'm a little freaked. It'll be ok; I'll just be taking lots of work home this weekend, I guess. That's what I get for procrastinating (although I'm seriously only really procrastinating on the HRSA grant, which, yeah, is the giantest understaking of them all...)

Aaaaaaaggggg and the many layers of disappointment

2006-09-19T11:23:00.000-05:00

Did anyone else notice it last night? During the game, that AAAAAAGGGGGG? V and I looked at each other in disbelief. Then we looked at R, who asked, “Did you guys see that?” It’s not that we were watching my dear team lose in a shut out, but that, momentarily, we actually saw the letters “AAAAAAAGGGGGG” on the screen, as though some network hack was a Steelers fan and felt like expressing himself. Did you see it?

In other terribly disappointing news, it seems the University from which I earned my MFA is dismantling the creative writing program by changing it from a full 45-credit, traditional workshop-style program to a low-residency writing program. Now, I know that there are really strong low-residency programs, but in general I think you lose the most important element of entering a writing program: community. In a traditional program, you live and work with these people, read and write and edit and revise and focus on writing for 3 years, and at the end of it you walk out with a manuscript (which you may or may not trash as soon as you receive your diploma…) and with a strong sense of your own aesthetic, your own project, and how it resembles and differs not only from the established writers you’ve been reading, but from the emerging writers with whom you studied.

But the university has no interest in cultivating art or talent, despite the many awards and publications—some of them quite prestigious—the graduates of our program have received. I’m lucky in that I am not planning on pursuing a PhD in creative writing (the programs are few and far between, generally speaking, an MFA is a terminal degree), because then it would really matter whether the program from which I earned my degree was any good. At the same time, I’m not really NOT planning on pursuing a PhD. It was always something that could happen. Who knows, now, now that my degree came from a program that NO LONGER EXISTS. I wrote a letter to the editor in response to the news article about the program, and I hope they publish it. I’d include a link to that article, except that the paper there has fascist tendencies when it comes to archives, and although that article was just published yesterday, it would now cost $2.95 to read it.

To continue the disappointing theme, I also seem to be screwed over for the reading I was curating in early October. Not only is the reading scheduled on the night of the Lost premier (it’s ok, I have a VCR that records just fine), but now it turns out that I’m supposed to appear at another reading on the same night. Although I haven’t been told this by that particular organization yet. So you might think, why bother? Why go to this other reading when you’ve spent 2 months organizing and hand-picking performers for the reading you want to put your name on? The answer is that I’m a finalist in their city-wide writing competition, with a $500 prize on the line (and yes, I realize that there is nothing disappointing about being a finalist in a writing competition). I’m not sure, but the judges may be editors at a cool Chicago Magazine, so you know, good people to meet. I’ve tried to switch the night of my show with another curator, but no one has bothered to get back to me. Because that would be too civil, or something. So now it seems that I will not be attending my show, that I will write an opening statement, put the performers in order, hope the slide projection equipment works, and leave it all in someone else’s hands. Of course one of my readers pretty much has already dropped out upon hearing this news, as he would rather be at my other reading to support me than read without me there. I do have a good (a very good, in fact) back up for him, so that’s fine. But still, there’s this: I have not been notified that I was selected as a finalist, let alone given the date of the reading and award event. I found this on my own when my friend and I played Google Everyone We Know. I called the director of that organization and left a message for her because I want to know the set up of the night, is it a full reading, just an award presentation, etc. She hasn’t called me back.

At what point—if any—do I just go on with my original plan, rather than go to this award event? If they never notify me or call me or anything, should I go because I saw the date on their website, or do I go to my original reading? What if they tell me the day before? What about 3 days before? It’s already ridiculous to have not been told, but I’m willing to sacrifice witnessing this thing I’ve worked on and am proud of in order to accept the honor of being chosen as a finalist. Is there a point at which I should no longer be willing?

Friday's Feast

2006-09-15T11:19:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Eleven
Appetizer: What was the very last song you listened to?
I have no idea who the artist is or what it’s called, but it’s track 12 on a mixed CD my friend Chuck made me in January 2005…

Soup: What is one company/store/corporation you would recommend that people stay away from?
Oh fine, I’ll say it: Wal-Mart. But this time for a different reason than usual. Stay away from them because of the disrespect they show their truck drivers. They only allow trucks to unload one at a time, and you must immediately depart the lot as soon as you’ve unloaded. And you can’t leave your truck unattended, or sleep really, since you have to be ready to move your truck in and unload as soon as they say so. So what happens is that you could sit there for 18 hours and not sleep and not move then get called in to unload, then be made to leave immediately. When you leave you call your dispatcher, who assigns you another load somewhere else. Here’s the thing. Any time you are not traveling is counted as rest, whether or not you’ve rested. So it’s on your books that you rested for 18 hours and your dispatcher says “we want you in Maine by tomorrow morning” even though you’re in North Carolina and you haven’t slept. And because this is how you make a living, you do it. So go ahead and complain about big 18-wheelers on the road, about how they’re scary and cause accidents or whatever, but keep in mind that that man may not have slept in 2 days, and still has 500 miles to go, all because you wanted to buy a 24-pack of toilet paper for super cheap.

Salad: On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how much do you enjoy having your picture made?
Having my picture made? What the hell does that even mean?

Main Course: Besides a bookmark, what is something you've used to keep your place in a book?
Dog-eared corners. Receipts. Pens. Magazines. Barrettes. Anything within reach, really.

Dessert: Name a food that you like that most people don't.
Natto, a Japanese dish of fermented soy beans. According to my mother, natto tastes so Japanese that even most Japanese people don’t like it. Oh yeah.

Lost

2006-09-15T11:08:00.000-05:00

This is my completely Lost-related post. If you do not watch or do not plan on watching this show, you can skip this post. If you don’t watch it but want to, or haven’t caught up with it all, you may want to skip this, as there are lots of SPOILERS in my analysis.

As some of you know, I rented the first season of the show earlier this summer and was immediately hooked. I mean, I was hooked within the first 10 minutes, basically. So I waited on edge until the 2nd season was finally released last week and then I ordered it from Amazon. I’m now 12 episodes into the 2nd season and I feel like I need to get some off my chest. I’m disappointed so far. This is not to say that I’m not enjoying it, as I still am; I just wanted more or something. Actually, I think it’s a sign of the show’s high quality when I say I am disappointed because I’m not blown away. It’s still better than most of what’s on TV by far. I guess this sort of happened with Veronica Mars, too. Halfway through the second season I was getting agitated with plot contrivances, etc. But what keeps me locked into both of these shows remains the same: the characters and the acting.

The first season of Lost was so well constructed: 22 (or so, not sure exactly) episodes through which we explore each member of an ensemble cast. Some of their back stories seemed hokey, but what made it work was that before we were given the back story we watched the person in action (for the most part). In the pilot we saw Jack take in the horror of the situation and immediately jump in and start helping people. Dazed and confused Boone and Locke did the same thing, and Hurley and Kate, with some coaxing. All we knew about them was what they were doing, then and there, in the face of the accident. It was all anyone knew about each other, as well (and apparently the actors). So we learn through their actions more than their back story that Jack is sanctimonious and annoying but genuinely concerned with the well-being of others. We learn that Locke is fatalistic and courageous in the way those with blind faith can be courageous. We learn Shannon is selfish and lazy and knows it, but hates it when others point it out to her. And that Kate is not a bad person—she wants to help others but will fight like a wild animal if cornered. And my favorite, dear, sweet Hurley, really is a kind and easygoing fellow. Everything in their back story supports what we see in their actions. Being stranded on a desert island, free of past situations (but not of past ghosts) helps them become the person they imagine they are inside. That’s why Sawyer is an ass who, once he allows himself to be attached to someone, will risk his own safety to help them. It’s just that he tries not to allow that attachment to happen.

So now let’s get to season 2 and why I think the writers have been lazy so far. Obviously we have new characters from the tail section, and they are at a disadvantage because we’ve already experienced all of the first season with the same 7 people, and we care about them. So who are these strangers? Well, if follow the formula from season 1 and determine what sort of person each is based on his or her actions at hand, then Mr. Eko is an extremely civil fist of strength, Libby is a communicator and possibly a mediator, and let’s face it, we love Bernard because we loved Rose already, so we don’t even need to know about him.

And Ana-Lucia. Oh, Ana-Lucia. She is loud and obnoxious, a sneering bully who comes off as not necessarily concerned for the safety of her cohorts so much as determined to live in her own hell. I mean, she does not seem to genuinely care about the well-being of her cohorts in the way Jack does; she seems to take any bad thing that happens to them as a personal affront, a sign that she is being punished (for what? Being a bitch, I suppose). Here’s the thing—I don’t see anything wrong with this, with a character being such a bully and a blowhard, except that the writers don’t seem to want us to see her that way. Hence the back story about being a cop (figures, she acts like a kid who was picked on in high school who goes on to become the town cop and proceeds to bully others), being shot and losing her baby, etc. I mean, if there was ever a back story meant to elicit sympathy, I think the pregnant cop (she serves and protects, man!) who was shot by a perp and loses the baby is it. Oh right and then she premeditates revenge.

OK. I’ll totally give you that Kate’s premeditated murder is way worse than Ana-Lucia’s. Totally. By far. The difference? That despite having committed a horrible act that has followed her and haunted her since, Kate interacts with and treats people with respect. Um, except when she’s always following the expeditions. Though seriously, if I were going on an expedition on that island and I had to choose one person to come with me and Locke was busy, Kate. No doubt. That woman can fight (er, except when she gets caught by the Others). Ana-Lucia’s murder of the guy who shot her wasn’t that bad, and obviously the Shannon thing was an accident. Um, but taking Sayid hostage? Not so much. Oh, but Ana-Lucia has been taught not to trust people. Everyone betrays her, that’s why she’s foul. And their group has been attacked since day 1; she acts like that to survive. No, she acts like that because deep down, beneath any outside circumstance, she is a bitch who lacks grace. How can I say this? Because of Mr. Eko. He is part of that group. He’s the one who brought all the corpses in from the water to bury them. He was the first one to kill an attacker (or two). And yet he is calm Might and Grace. So don’t give me the Ana-Lucia’s been through a lot shit. And it’s fine. She can be a bitch. But she should own it. And this is nothing against Michelle Rodriguez, who I think does own the bitchiness. No, it’s the writers who are afraid to own this personality, afraid to just make her the terrible person to be around who just might save your life. That’s far more interesting as a character, and to a plot, than forgive her, she lost a child, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, wah.

This is the same gripe I had with the show’s attempt to redeem Shannon. Shannon was a selfish brat who was slowly starting to change because she had to. But by giving us that drivel about how her step-mom mistreated her (a very one-sided caricature, but the way), we’re supposed to warm to her? It’s more important to see how she changes given the circumstances of being on the island: her brother’s death, the attention of Sayid, etc. Instead, the writers give us another crappy back story that’s supposed to do the work for us so we feel sorry for her when they kill her off in the next episode. I think that’s lazy writing. In the end, I’m going to wager that we felt bad at her death not because Shannon was such a good girl whose stepmother mistreated her and made her selfish but was trying to change, but because of Sayid’s grief, especially as portayed by Naveen Andrews. In that close up shot of his face he moves seamlessly from shock to grief to rage to cold. And I swear he doesn’t even move.

Some might say that Sawyer’s back story tried to do the same thing, redeem him from his surliness in the present, but I don’t think that’s what happens, really. In fact, what we see is that he is the same as he always has been, just with less means. His redemption, or not redemption so much as subtle change (which is good in a dynamic character, more interesting), comes from wanting to prove himself (helping with the raft), and really in that one moment in the year one finale when he puts himself in danger to protect Walt (he has a soft spot for kids, we know). But it’s different from his efforts to prove himself because no one could really see what he was doing; he did it because he was compelled to protect someone else. Of course he blows hard about it later, but in that moment he acted unselfishly and unconsciously. And now he’s all in love and doesn’t know it, so who knows what that’ll bring.

Anyway, thanks for putting up with my long-winded analysis of what I’m watching and going through. I think it’s a really different experience when you watch an entire season in a week, as opposed to waiting on edge through a whole season. Season 3 will be tough on me for that reason. I’m going to finish up season 2 this weekend, and then I’m all set.

We Can't All Be Audrey

2006-09-13T12:21:00.000-05:00

In one of the Gap's latest commercials, we see a clip from the 1957 movie Funny Face, starring Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire, where Hepburn decides to express herself through dance at a beatnik cafe. As she dances, AC/DC's "Back in Black" starts playing and Audrey dances off the movie screen onto a white screen. She's all lithe lines, a dancer with hypnotic eyes, and the movements of her body are beautiful against the stark white background. The commercial ends with the line "back in blaaaack..." and a tagline like: "The skinny black pant".

OK. I should hate this. Opposing cultural icons AC/DC and Audrey Hepburn in one place, in a Gap ad of all places?! The outrage! The horror! But the truth is, I like this commercial. I could watch it all day. I love seeing the dance moves in time with the music, and I love the sound of Audrey Hepburn's voice. The only thing this commercial doesn't do for me is make me want to buy skinny black pants. That's because, despite all the advertising on this look right now (I must admit, I also like the Levi's commercial with the woman walking over stuff while a cover of Johnny Cash's "Walk the Line" plays in the background), nothing will convince me that those pants are a good choice for me.

It's not so much that I have hips--my hips are somewhat narrow for my size--but that I have an intense upper body (read: boobage). I'm what might be called an inverted triangle. I admit, I'm not as inverted as I might be; still remain well-propotioned and basically hourglass-shaped, but my lower body is a good 2 sizes smaller than my upper body. Which means my dress size is impossible. Anyway, I've said a lot before about fashion, and I think I forgot to mention the skinny jeans in that post (or perhaps that's what was eaten by Blogger), but the truth is I don't hate the skinny jean. I love the way it looks on the body type that can wear it, just as Audrey Hepburn and the model in the Levi's commercial look wonderful in what they're wearing.

But we're not all Audrey Hepburn.

I could never wear the skinny black pant. The skinny jean. It's OK though, because I can wear a mini skirt to show off muscular and shapely legs, rather than chicken legs. I wear the clothes that flatter my body and accept that not all of fashion's newest trend will do that. It only becomes a problem when a trend is so popular that it is impossible to find the stuff that flatters one's body. I mean, if skinny jeans become so popular that the Gap no longer carries Long and Leans, then I'm screwed. Although, perhaps in the day and age of eBay, it would be OK.

The other thing is that I wish other people would think about clothing more in terms of whether it flatters rather than whether it's in style. Maybe I've seen too many episodes of What Not to Wear, but I don't care. Clinton and Stacy are doing a fabulous job of making people look their best as they are, not how they falsely imagine themselves to be. I've never actually seen a makeover on that show that I didn't think fit the person's personal sense of style and self and accentuated all of his or her assets. Anyway, it makes me cringe when I hear my boss--who is an absolutely beautiful woman who happens to be quite apple-shaped--talk about how she's glad the skinny jeans are back because that's her style. Nooooooo! Leave the skinny jean to the Audrey's of the world in the skinny pants(I always picture my housemate from last fall, a beautiful girl whose sister sometimes models for fun, dressed like this. It works for her). I'll take my straight-leg jeans and 3-button blazers. It's fine. This is my look, and I look good.

Unfinished Business

2006-09-12T19:19:00.000-05:00

A City Girl Looks At A Painting Of Alaska

I don’t see night colors in blue gel slides over broad daylight; I see them like incandescence, like haloed fog over a circle of sidewalk, glowing under a streetlamp. I don’t believe in these blues and violets, these dogs resting in gray snow streaked with lavender, tended to by a fur-hooded man whose face remains hidden. I don’t believe in these midnight blue trees and teal skies; they’re too much like a 1960’s western—that necessary scene where the man creeps out to the corral, steals a horse, and rides off in vengeance—not enough like the bright nights I came from: headlights reflecting on wet pavement, neon signs in rainbows, flashing broken letters above storefront windows; a halogen hallway where lighted canvases hang framed upon the wall.

This is a very old thing I started writing in 2003. It never went any further than this. Say what you will, I'd rather be writing something new. Sigh.

100th post!

2006-09-12T19:13:00.000-05:00

Whew. Now that's out of the way.

Casual Friday

2006-09-07T23:13:00.000-05:00

Friday's Feast

2006-09-07T23:07:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred Ten

Appetizer: Name 3 things that you are wearing today.
Um, I’m wearing underwear, a brown skirt that I may have stole from my college roommate Anne back in 1998, and a tissue thin boobalicious hippie shirt. It’s laundry day.

Soup: Who was the last person you hugged?
I hug people? Just kidding. I hugged my Mark and Tina when I saw them a couple of weeks ago. They just moved to Chicago from Anchorage, and I’m really excited to see them here.

Salad: What do you like to order from your favorite fast food place?
Red curry with tofu. Fresh Thai rolls. Thai iced tea and a diet coke. Oh, that’s delivery. Fast food? I guess that would be a Subway veggie and cheese on wheat with everything except jalapenos.

Main Course: What time of day do you usually feel most energized?
I’m not really an energized person, although post-Steelers game is a pretty energizing time for me. No, my problem is that I’m tired all the time, all day, everyday, and then around 10:30 at night I perk up. Even if my body is exhausted, it’s so hard for me to calm my mind down at night and go to sleep. It’s not like I nap during the day or anything. In fact, I’ve been getting like 5 hours of sleep and waking up every morning feeling like death. This morning all I could think was: only 14 more hours until I can go back to bed. And what’s going on now? It’s 11:00 on Thursday night and I don’t think I can sleep for another few hours. It’s not a good thing.

Dessert: Using the letters in your first name, write a sentence. (Example: Sweet unusual spaniels are nice.)
Just offering her answer nonchalantly, not aggressively. I guess that’s more of a dependent clause than a full sentence…

Gameday - some thoughts...rambling

2006-09-07T22:09:00.000-05:00

OK, I'm really lazy, so rather than write two separate posts, I'm going to post this to the Steel blog, too.

My random thoughts during the game:

Peyton Manning’s uncanny sense of comic timing. I didn’t like Manning for the longest time. I hated watching him play. It had nothing to do with his talent and drive; he was obviously a great quarterback. I didn’t enjoy watching him play. He seemed so…puritanical about it. As though his work ethic was to work through it as hard as you can (um, what’s wrong with that? Nothing, really…), and if God favored you then good things would happen. There seemed to be no joy in his play. Watching him play was the opposite experience of watching, say Hines Ward or Brett Favre. And then came his commercials. I don’t know if it’s the director, or the casting (as T-Rex suggested), but these commercials allow him so much humanity. My favorite is the one with him in the wig where he says, “like maybe Peyton Manning’s team, maybe…” I can’t help but laugh every time I see it.
Charlie Batch, the Detroit Kid (V’s nickname for him). You can do it! You can do it!
Nate Washington: congratulations on your regular season score, man.
Wee Willie Parker, quick-footed wonder. No, I’m serious. In the words of T-Rex: “He looks so wee when he’s on the field. But he’s not really, is he?” At 5’ 10” and 209 pounds, he’s not at all wee if he were standing next to me or T-Rex, 5’ 1” and 5’ 3” respectively, but I suppose in NFL terms, he is kind of wee. But oh so quick.
I’m such an incredible multi-tasker. How incredible? I can draft this blog post as I watch the game AND search for the best priced airline ticket to Austin for New Year’s with T-Rex. Purchased! Oh, and now search for a ticket to Columbus for a grant training…purchased! Man, I’m traveling somewhere each month so far: Alaska next month, Ohio in November, and Texas in December. Apparently not being able to bring carry ons with impunity isn’t stopping me…
OH MY GOD!!! I forgot to mention: Ambrrrrrrr gave birth to a healthy 8 pound and something oz. baby boy last night. Welcome to earth, little Aiden. I can’t wait to meet you next month.
We’re the defending Superbowl Champs, and this is the opening game of the season being played at Heinz Field, Big Ben is out, etc., but what am I worried about? Jerome Bettis in the booth. How will he do? Well, who knows…I was on the phone during that…
Confluence. Need I say more?
Is there anything Hines Ward can’t catch? Or block while he’s at it?
Interception? No. Touchdown? NOOO!!!!! We’re trailing…
Hines Ward for a first down again. I’m going to start wearing my #86 jersey (thanks, Arn) to work on casual Fridays. Today I hung pictures around my cubicle that said “You’re in Steeler Country.” People sort of make fun of me. They ask why I’m not a Bears fan.
Charlie Batch slides to first down. Parker you rock!
“Mini trick play” oh yeah…
TURNOVER NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
What’s with these Mac commercials? Didn’t they read Seth Stevenson’s review? This isn’t endearing us to Mac products, folks.
T-Rex just brought up how difficult it must be for Charlie Batch: watching someone else do the job you want to do every single day. And then when you do get to play, everyone just wishes you were someone else. She may deny it, and she may hate health, but T-Rex is truly a compassionate person.
Oh, Santonio Holmes, so not impressed. And I'm not even talking about the domestic abuse.
Hey, does anyone know-is Christopher Meloni is no longer on Law & Order SVU? I saw the season premiere on Tuesday and got all emotional at the end when Olivia went to the Captain and asked for a new partner.
OMG...Holy shit Heath Miller. Will this be challenged before the kick? Too late! Touchdown, Steelers! Hey, we already dealt with bad calls earlier in the game. You snooze you lose. Yipes. I can't believe I just said that. I'm not an adherer to the 'You snooze you lose' philosophy. I apologize, Coach Saban.
Whatever, touchdown, Steelers!
Polamalu! Polamalu! Polamalu! When T-Rex came to visit last year and we watched a game at the Dark Horse on New Year's Day, she noted that there were a disproportionate number of Polamalu jerseys in the bar. And that interception right there is why.
Jeff Reed? What the hell? That kick was waaaaay off.
Wow, I love commericials during football games. Apparently football fans care only about HD TVs, Viagra, trucks, and football. I guess that's not too surprising.
Porter intercepts! Touchdown Steelers!!!!!!!!
Um, if you didn't know already, this game is awesome. It's really exciting. A perfect opening game for the new NFL season.
I agree, Madden; it just isn't classy to celebrate too much after a big hit. I want my team to be good AND classy.
Sacked!
I heart you, Steeler defense. Ha! I bet all of you men who hate women who talk about football are cringing at that. Let me repeat it: I heart you, Steeler defense! And while I'm at it, I heart you Steeler offense, too.
We're from the town with that great football team. We cheer the Pittsburgh Steelers! Pittsburgh wins 28-17!!!!
Welcome back, football season. You've been missed.

Here We Go

2006-09-07T09:38:00.000-05:00

Here we go...

!!!

patience

2006-09-06T10:52:00.000-05:00

please bear with me as I play around with my template...

Paging Dr. Ward

2006-09-05T22:08:00.000-05:00

We all know that I love Hines Ward, and I love me some Steelers football, but this article just cracked me up and had me rolling my eyes. I realize that Ward had the same operation 4 years ago and is speaking from his own experience, but there's something about the way it's written, the way this author refers to Ward as a medical expert, that really rubs me the wrong way.

Maybe it has something to do with the way we all believe we're medical experts these days (oh myself included). The internet arms us with just enough knowledge to be dangerous, or stupid. I mean, just last week I diagnosed my cough as whooping cough (honestly though, it has become much less intense but it's still there, sucking the life out of me). We've seen enough ER, House, and Grey's to list of med-speak as though it meant something to us. This makes it really hard to trust doctors when they tell us that episode of ER and my finding a geopage website about whooping cough doesn't mean I konw anything about whooping cough (there never was an episode of ER about whooping cough as far as I know).

At the same time, I'm not really all about doctors. Most of the time they don't seem to have the time to really listen to you, or get to know you enough to know what's abnormal for you. I've also had terrible experiences, like all the doctors who told my parents that I was faking my leg pain, and that I didn't like to walk because I was lazy. Turned out it was actually a bone tumor. Go figure. And of course there's my current doctor who told me I needed to do something about being obese after I'd told her that I'd lost 20 pounds in the last year.

Anyway, I'm not sure how I got there from Hines Ward... Oh yeah. My idea is that when we think we know everything about medicine and tell ou doctors that they're wrong (and Dr. Ward contributes to this shaky--if not false--body of knowledge), they think we're crazy and listen to us even less. At the same time, because they're not listening to us, we need to arm ourselves with knowledge and stay on them until they listen (wow, do I not have a point or what)!

ps. I promise that we are nearing the end of my illness-related posts. I do have an appointment to see the doctor on Thursday, September 7. Please note that I called the doctor for an appointment on Monday, August 21. WTF? I'm not really sick anymore, but I still have a heavy cough and I'm still dealing with exhaustion, so I figure I'll go in anyway. I mean, I waited 2 damn weeks for this, so I better make the most of it.

RIP Crocodile Hunter

2006-09-04T10:51:00.000-05:00

Afters years of urban legends whispering his death, Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, actually did die last night. He was swimming with sting rays when one of them plunged its barb right into his heart. Although I haven't seen his show in a really long time, I've always enjoyed it. And I always liked the way he reminded us of how cool animals were, much like Jack Hannah did for me as a child. I remeber one special where he relocated crocs from neglected zoos in developing nations to much better zoos, where the animals would have room and be able to live healthy lives. I think he was crying when he saw some of the conditions the animals were living in. Anyway, I'm grateful to Steve Irwin for reminding us that we are not just cell phones and microwaves and 8-lane highways. We are all a part of a natural world, too, and that world is beautiful and deadly. Um, you know, like life.

33 Years in Prison!

2006-09-02T22:38:00.000-05:00

This is The Guilty Game. Next to the questions, put your answers as either guilty or innocent. Guilty if you have, innocent if you haven't. The number of guilties you have is the number of years in prison you are sentenced to. Re-post with a headline stating how many years in prison you have....

1. Dated outside your race? guilty

2. Given a hickey? guilty

3. Dated your best friend? guilty

4. Sung in the shower? guilty

5. Spit in someone's Drink? innocent

6. Dumped someone? guilty

7. Been dumped? guilty

8. Opened your christmas presents early? guilty

9. Lied to a friend? guilty

10. Seen "The Goonies" more than 10 times? innocent

11. Played a Computer game for more than 5 hours? Guilty (damn you Sims!)

12. Ran through the sprinklers naked? innocent

13. Ate food that fell on the floor? guilty

14. Went outside naked? innocent

15. Flashed somebody? guilty

16. Mooned somebody? innocent

17. Been on stage? guilty

18. Made someone cry? guilty

19. Been in a parade? guilty

20. Been in a school play? guilty

21. Drank? Guilty

22. Gotten detention? guilty

23. Been on a plane? guilty

24. Been on a cruise? innocent

25. Broken into a house? guilty

26. Gotten a tattoo? guilty

27. Gotten piercings? guilty

28. Broken a window? innocent

29. Gotten into a shouting match? guilty

30. Been skinny dipping? guilty

31. Spun yourself in circles to get dizzy on purpose? guilty

32. Laughed so hard it hurt? guilty

33. Tripped on your own feet? guilty

34. Cried yourself to sleep? guilty

35. Cried in public? guilty

36. Thrown up in public? guilty

37. Lied to your parents? guilty

38. Skipped class? guilty

39. Cried so hard you threw up? guilty

40. Owned a road sign? guilty

Here kitty kitty

2006-09-01T20:33:00.000-05:00

Pictures of my cat! Yoshimi, the wonky-eyed wonder kitty.

Friday's Feast

2006-09-01T10:27:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Nine

Appetizer: What are some lyrics you have misheard (such as, instead of "Gettin' Jiggy With It" you heard "Kick a chicken with it")?
There was a Pittsburgh punk band I loved called Teddy Duchamp’s Army. They had a song called “New Moog,” the chorus of which contained the line “Can’t afford a moog…” But in a live show it really hard to discern what was being said, and I thought it had to do with California. Until I bought the CD. Then I felt silly…

Soup: What is the worst movie you have ever seen?
Hmmm. I remember being really upset at the end of “Gone in 60 Seconds”, like I’d wasted part of my life. But now when it comes on TBS I’ll watch parts of it and just laugh. Also, I’ve recently figured out that Christopher Eccleston plays the bad guy in it.

Salad: Using the letters from your favorite number, write a sentence. Example: Tomorrow has really easy experiences.
Toward what origination?

Main Course: What was the most interesting news story you have heard this week?
The one about The Scream being found, two years after it was stolen by gunmen.

Dessert: Which word(s) would you choose to describe your wardrobe?
Black
Old
Accessories

Nooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-08-31T21:12:00.000-05:00

My DVD player is not working. I don't know what's wrong with it; it simply won't read any DVDs. it just clicks and clicks and clicks. I was in the middle of watching "Newsies" when it just stopped! Will Jack Kelly and his newsboy strike succeed? Will he ever make it to Santa Fe?

Now, I know it sounds like I'm being flip about this, but I'm seriously upset. You need to understand that I don't really go out and do much (other than the reading series I work on). I spend most of my nights holed up at home watching movies. Netflix is pretty much my best friend. In fact, I've blogged about this in the past. So now I can't watch movies; or, I can, but I can't multitask while I do this. How am I supposed to write that HRSA grant if I can't watch Newsies or Season One of the X-Files in the background? How am I supposed to any of things that I like to do that involve me watching movies?

I guess I'll have to start watching DVDs on my computer again. Hello, little red pixel, I remember you. Or maybe start doing other things, possibly things that are social. If I didn't find it all so tiresome and annoying, that could be a good thing.

I'm not in Alaska

2006-08-31T12:26:00.000-05:00

In case you hadn’t noticed, not that it would have been clear, really, but I am not in Alaska right now. I’m in Illinois. So, my friend and I decided that I shouldn’t be around the baby (who has yet to pop out of the womb) in case I do have some crazy, unheard of virus. And considering I just found out that a co-workers spouse is suffering from something very similar and has bee sick for 5 weeks, this could be possible.

Anyway, I will not be there to see the birth of the baby. I will not see what my friend looks like pregnant (depressingly, at 9 months pregnant she now weighs what I weigh. Sigh). I will not be able to watch the entire 2nd season of Lost on DVD with Ambrrrr before the 3rd season comes out. I will not be in AK for the last of the good weather. But I will be going up there in October, which may be more fun anyway. I mean, do one month olds do much besides eat, poop, cry a little and sleep? And won’t she be allowed to sushi again? I suppose it’s worth it all if it means we can have one of our old-fashioned food fests at Peter’s Sushi Spot!

Scream!

2006-08-31T11:55:00.000-05:00

they found me!

Does Anyone Else

2006-08-30T21:13:00.000-05:00

Spontaneously break into smiles when you see The Bus on TV? Is that just me?

Healthcare Crisis

2006-08-29T13:24:00.000-05:00

I remember my friend Shane explaining to me that his parents were the type of people who never thought about healthcare in America as an important issue until they saw the movie "John Q", and while he and I thought the movie was manipulative and that the characters were more like caricatures, etc, for a lot of people those kinds of movies were real eye openers.

Now, I've known that health insurance is a mess, even without having seen that movie. I remember my parents having to switch back and forth between providers in order to pay for my different operations. What a pain! (No, seriously, not being able to walk because you're waiting for insurance to OK your operation is painful). Anyway, I just found out that I can't see any other doctor (aside from my gyno, maybe I could make an appointment with her...I mean, she's a specialist, but she learned the same stuff before specializing, right?) unless I'm out of town or my doctor is out of town. So I have an appointment to see my doctor next Thursday. In the meantime, I'm unable to sleep more than 6 hours night because I'm coughing up blood and coughing until I puke. I'd be better off just going to Alaska on Thursday and going to see my old doctor there, whom I loved, because then I'd be out of town. Except it would be, in the words of T-Rex (who always speaks the truth, much like the magical sitar in "Moulin Rouge", very irresponsible to be hacking all over a newborn baby.

[Aside: I'm supposed to go to Alaska on Thursday to be with my dear friend when she gives birth to a tiny human being. How cool is that?]

Anyway, T-Rex also said that people shouldn't have to wait more than a day to see their doctor when they're sick (try a week and a half!). I can just bite it and go to some other doctor and pay $150 for the visit, I know, but then if I do get a prescription for meds, I'm looking at over $200 in total expenses, which I can't really afford. Or, I sort of could, but I don't like the prospect of eating ramen noodles till my next pay day.

I'm going to talk with the HR person at work tomorrow to get a better sense of the other plans available. if I switch to the PPO, which is generally the stronger, more flexible plan, I think I can go to any doctor I want, any time I want, although I'll have about $500 deductible. This is what I had in Alaska, and I never went over the deductible. So, if something horrible had happened to me, I'd be fine, but as far as routine healthcare went, I still paid it all out of pocket. Also, I think the PPO costs more per month, but I'm not sure.

Probably I shouldn't have missed the new employee orientation at work when they explained this stuff. At the same time, they should do it more than twice a year, since I'd been working there for 6 fucking months before they offered the orientation, and had already signed up for something. Also, they shouldn't plan the orientation during the same week as our major annual fundraising event, which I think is why I didn't go when they did finally offer it.

OK, I'm obviously very bitter right now. That's because I'm tired, and a tired miXi is a very grumpy miXi. I'm going to try to calm myself down with some retail therapy at Target. I don't even have to buy anything (well, except maybe for some Murphy's Oil Soap for my floors), I just feel good looking at all the pretty home decor stuff.

The point of doctors

2006-08-28T23:43:00.000-05:00

is what now? OK. So now I'm well into my 3rd week og being sick. No, I'm not delirious and feverish like I was 2 weeks agp, and I'm not as weak as I was even 1 week ago, but I've still got a terrible cough unlike any I've ahd before. This cough, the severity of which is eerily similar to descriptions of whooping cough, has disrupted my sleep for the past 2 weeks a great deal. I'm pretty mucha t the pint where I feel like if I don't sleep soon I'll never get better.

Anyway, I finally decided to call my foctor to find out if there really is anything unusual about this cough. I normally don't run to the doctor every time I get sick, and maybe I should. I'm fairly anti anti-biotics though, as I believe they're too often over prescribed. So I called my doctor and I know this is last minute, but stil they can't git me until next week. Ambrrrr was cool enough to look up urgent care centers for me where they will see walk-ins, or where I can get an appointment within 24 hours. But I need to call my insurance compeny first and make sure they'll cover this. Somehow I'm guessing they won't.

Anyway, Im starting to no longer see the point in having a doctor since I can never get in to see her unless I plane 2 weeks in advance when I'm going t get sick. It sucks. Anyway, I should be in bed now. I'm going to go cough until I puke then try to fall asleep. Happy dayss.

Math Jokes

2006-08-25T12:42:00.000-05:00

These are the only two jokes I know:

When God saw how the world was filled with sinners, he brought upon the earth a great flood. He spared only Noah and his family and instructed Noah to build an ark and to take two of each animal onto this ark, so that they might survive the flood. So Noah built a giant Ark and began gathering the animals. He brought two of each animal, from aardvarks to zebras, and when the rains came, they all floated together in that ark for 40 days and 40 nights. Finally, after the rains abated and the sun began to shine, Noah let a dove fly free, and it brought back a twig of olive. Noah found dry land and all rejoiced. He opened the door to the ark and cried: “Go forth and multiply!” and all the animals ran free.
After a day Noah decided to check on the animals, as he has grown fond of them, and because he wanted to make sure they followed the decree of the Lord. So he strolled about the woods and saw the deer busily getting it on. The bunnies had already multiplied and were still busy getting it on. The alligators and bears and cheetahs were busy getting it on, and so were the elephants and fish and giraffes. Noah saw the hippos and the iguanas, jellyfish, kangaroos and leopards getting busy. The moose and the narwhals and octopi, peacocks, quail and raccoons, snails and toucans and urchins and vampire bats, wombats and x-ray fish, yaks and zebras, all the animals were busy making more animals. And then Noah stumbled upon a pair of snakes who were not getting it on. They were sawing away, busily trying to cut down a tree.
“What is this?” Noah exclaimed. “What are you doing? Didn’t you hear God’s wish? You are supposed to go forth and multiply!”
The snakes stopped sawing the tree and looked at Noah. “But that’s what we’re trying to do,” said one of the snakes. “We’re making log tables.”
“Log tables?” asked Noah.
“Yes,” said the snake. “We’re adders!”

This one is a physics joke:
In a small town in the middle of Pennsylvania, a cattle farmer’s worst nightmare came true: his herd starting getting sick. One by one all of his cows came down with this mystery virus and stopped producing milk. The farmer called his neighbor, and the neighbor came and examined the cows but couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them. The farmer called the vet, and the vet came and examined the cows but couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them. So the farmer called his family doctor, and the doctor came and examined the cows but couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them. The farmer was very worried now, so he called a famous vet from the big city, and the famous vet came and examined cows but couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them. The famous vet said, “I know someone at the CDC, and maybe she can help.” So he called the woman from the CDC, and she examined the cows but couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them.
The local news covered the story, and the whole town was worried that disease would infect their herds as well. Then the national news covered the story, and the whole country was worried that they wouldn’t be able to get fresh milk anymore.
One day a professor from the university showed up on the farm and introduced himself as John Smith, Professor of Physics. He said, “Give me 24 hours with your herd of cattle, and I will figure out what is wrong with your cows.”
At this point the farmer was desperate, because if he lost his herd he would lose everything. “Anything you need is yours,” he said to the professor.
“Just a chalkboard, some chalk, and 24 hours with the cows,” the professor said.
The farmer and the whole town waited for 24 hours, holding their breath, wondering what the physics professor would find. The next day he emerged from the barn and called the farmer and everyone together. “Ladies and gentleman,” he said, “I know what is making these cows sick.” Everyone gathered around, watching and listening intently. The professor pointed to his chalkboard, where he had drawn a large circle. “Now,” he said, “imagine that this is a perfect cow…”

Not too many people get the physics joke, but I think it’s a total hoot!

Friday's Feast

2006-08-25T08:12:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Eight

Appetizer: If you could have a free subscription to any magazine, which one would you like to have?

Cooking Light, or maybe that DIY magazine that I was into a few years ago. I can’t remember what it’s called.

Soup: Describe your living room (furnishings, colors, etc.).

My colors are brown and pink, kind of a chocolate and mauve. It’s a large room with hardwood floors and French doors that lead into the kitchen and dining area. To the north are my picture windows (with mauve drapes). I have a futon with a chocolate cover and pink throw pillows, a floor lamp from IKEA, some bookshelves, a stereo, TV and stuff. It’s totally incomplete: I need an arm chair, coffee table, and throw rug, and I want to switch out some of the book cases.

Salad: What does the shape of a circle make you think of?

A physics joke I like to tell about sick cows and the physicist solving the problem. No one gets it, though.

Main Course: Name 3 things in your life that you consider to be absolute necessities.

I consider everything to be a necessity until I have to go without. I’ve been without a home, job, thousands of miles from family and friends without those things, without enough money for food, without my current electronic haven (computer and TV/DVD), phone, without car or bike. It was all necessary until I didn’t have it. But I admit, as soon as I had the means and opportunity, I immediately gathered those things back into my life.

Dessert: What was the last really funny movie you watched?

Hmmm, let me check my Netflix history…Bride and Prejudice. It was awesome.

What I'm reading

2006-08-24T15:09:00.000-05:00

When the rich are so rich they're named Ri(t)ch(ie): I read this story today after hearing about it from a Burgh Blog post. I just don't know what to say. Maybe I'll say nothing and just attack someone.

Don't worry, there's a Plan B: The FDA finally will allow Plan B, or the morning after pill, to be sold OTC to anyone over the age of 18. This is good news, not just because now I'll never have to face my condescending doctor in case of an indiscretion again, but because women will finally have a somewhat easier time accessing emergency contraceptives. The stuff is still expensive as hell (and don't even get me started on how much I have to pay for non-emergency birth control, even with insurance).

Damn, I'm unmarriageable...wait, I wasn't in the market anyway: Salon has this story about a Forbes.com article on how professional women who make more than $30,000 a year are terrible wives. I don't know. I haven't read the Forbes article, but by its description it sounds kind of funny. Apparently Gloria Steinem agrees.

Why I'm Not an Environmentalist Anymore

2006-08-23T21:55:00.000-05:00

www.nataliedee.com

The Borg

2006-08-23T08:59:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about The Borg a lot lately. But with people running around looking like this, it's hard not to. I remember when cell phones were not present in every aspect of our lives, when it shocking to not be able to get ahold of someone. So many people seem incapable of separating themselves from their cell phones, incapable of just not answering when it rings, whether or not it's appropriate. Back in the late 90's, PW was the only person I knew with a mobile phone; she had a car phone in case of emergencies. Then a few friends here and there got them, and eventually I did. Since 2002 I went through a brief period of not having a cell phone after my school bag was stolen. At first it was really strange, and I felt totally out of contact with everyone (I must have still had a house phone then, but I don't remember). But then I got used to it. It was nice. However, after about a month of not having a phone, I was about to start dating, so I gave in and got a new one. Anyway, these days I'm connected entirely through my cell phone, with no landline tying me to any location. Still, this does not stop me from turning off the ringer of my phone for hours or even days at a time and simply being unavailable.
Some of friends think this is terrible: "What is the point of having a cell phone if you can't be reached?" My boss is continually shocked when she sees me silence calls I receive at work rather than answer them. But it is not my duty or obligation to be available 24/7 to anyone. I wish more people would figure it out: just because it rings doesn't mean you have to answer it.

Nightly Cravings

2006-08-22T21:19:00.000-05:00

I don't know what it is, maybe because I've been sick or something, but I'm craving the most fattening foods I can think of. For days all I wanted was lasagna, but it seemed like too much, considering I wasn't eating at all. Then finally, on Sunday I felt so much better I bought some frozen lasagna, ate all of it, then threw it up a little bit later (apparently it WAS too much considering I hadn't really eaten for a week). But my appetite has returned and I feel like I'm consuming enornous amounts of food, although I suppose it isn't any more than my pre-sick food intake. The thing is, I'm craving food like mad. Generally I'm of the mind that cravings are somehow linked to nutrients I'm missing. When I crave steak or burgers I'm probably low on iron. When I crave cabbage, I'm low on fiber (I think?). So what does it mean when I'm craving lots of coffee with creamer and donuts? Oh my god, donuts! I never even really liked donuts. I mean, I didn't dislike them, but they're not my favorite. But I want them so badly right now: a glazed donut, a cake donut lightly brushed with cinnamon, a powered donut, a chocolate donut, one of those cream-filled things with chocolate glaze...I'm going to die if I don't eat a donut soon!

I'm Alive! (sort of)

2006-08-21T10:50:00.000-05:00

In case you were in doubt, I am alive, and even back at work, after a horrible bout of illness. I probably should have seen a doctor, but eh. Also, I learned from T-Rex that if you joke about the irdbay uflay online, very serious people will give you shit. And I don't mean give you shit like gifts, I mean like shit.

Anyway, I'm back at work after missing all but one day of last week, so I should get back to my pile of tasks that should have been done last Thursday already. Sigh.

More dreamin' dreams

2006-08-15T19:50:00.000-05:00

I had one of those textbook anxiety dreams last night where I was back in high school and I realized I hadn't gone to my math class all semester. But that was just kind of the background of the dream, not main drama. No, this dream was actually a flashback I was having (once again, cinematic) while in conversation with someone in the present. "So," I tell my friend in the present, over lunch, "There I was in the lunch room at school..." and we flahback to the lunchroom at school, which relaly sort of was my middle school lunch room hanging out with my friends, knowing that I'm blowing off my trigonometry class again, when my cell phone rings (so you know, we didn't really have cell phone in the early-90's when I was in high school. I mean, we knew they existed. When I was a sophomore I bought a toy cell phone from Big Lots--the big, boxy old-school kind--and made it ring in the middle of my geometry class. I answered it with, "Hello? Oh, I can't talk now, I'm in the middle of class..." much to everyone's amusement). Just like I did back in real life in 1992, I answered the phone in my dream, to hear, "Miki, this is Bruce Willis, your history teacher. I'm just calling to remind you that you're supposed to iron the school flag and hang it in the auditorium." Oh yeah, and it came flooding back to me that Bruce Willis really was my history teacher and wow, wasn't that cool? In the present, I tell my friend that it's funny, just like those fake calls from Samuel L. Jackson everyone's sending around, but that it was for real, because Bruce Willis really was my teacher. In the flashback, I iron the flag.

So you know, I had a high fever last night.

Coincidence?

2006-08-15T18:24:00.000-05:00

Speaking of hunky and sexy-voiced Christian Bale, does anyone else think it's funny that he was in both Disney's Pochahontas and Terrence Malick's The New World?

OK, I guess not.

Weekend in Pittsburgh, Weekend at Home

2006-08-15T08:39:00.000-05:00

I spent the weekend in Pittsburgh, of course, after all that complaining and saying I wasn't going to go. TSA did give me a little bit of a hard time though, as I was chosen for random screening on my there (and by random, I mean they chose the first person standing at the front of the A,B, and C lines. Oh Southwest, you try to make it easy on your passengers, but TSA doesn't care). So even though I was at the airport hours early (I went straight from work) and was the first person to stand in line, I was still the last person on. They also selected me for random screening on the way back. Now, please understand that this is not when they scan your ticket and your name pops up because maybe you share a name with a terrorist or something. This is TSA hanging around the gate and pointing to people in the crowd. This is perhaps SPOT in action? I suppose it may look suspicious to some that I was wearing a long skirt and sweatshirt on a warm day (I should have worn my superbowl champions sweatshirt, because then I would have just looked like I was representing), but considering the aiport and airplane are both airconditioned to about 60 degrees, what the hell was I supposed to do? I wish I'd had my winter scarf, I was so cold. Anyway, the first time, Friday afternoon, the metal detecting wand kept beeping as it passed over my right hip, and TSA asked me to empty my pockets. I had no pockets. I explained that I had a metal implant in my leg and hip, and she just kind of shrugged and said OK. So is that all one has to do in order to sneak a forbidden metal object onto a plane, say it's an implant? Oh whatever. I can't even get into this really, not after that temp job Laurie M. and I had years ago where we screened people appyling for TSA jobs.

Anyway, so on the plane yesterday morning I realized that I was coming down with something, and by the time I got to the airport I decided to screw work and go strainght home, which makes sense, because I apparently had a raging fever. I ended up spending about 16 hours asleep yesterday and only managed to eat a little bit of white rice. Today I think my fever is gone (haven't checked yet, but no morebody aches) but my throat is on a downward spiral to nastiness. So I'm not going in to work today, either, hoping I can keep this from spiralling too far by resting a whole lot. If this plan fails and I get sick like I did over Christmas, then I'm not going to be good for anything for like a week. God. Anyway, it occurred to me to that these two days off work are sort of like the weekend at home I didn't spend; I'll lie around the couch, surf the internet, watc some sappy movies, and sleep a lot. Go figure.

Friday's Feast

2006-08-11T13:34:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred and Six

Appetizer: Tell about a toy you remember from your childhood.
Horses. I loved horses: real ones, toys(mostly, I only had access to toys). Poet Lucy Grealy has a great line about the love horses in one of her essays. I shall have to find it, but it was something about how people now associate the girlhood love of horses with a desire for male power and sexuality. Her line was just something like, “How can I explain; I loved those horses.”

Soup: If you could make one thing in the world absolutely free for everyone, what would it be?
Health care, I think. But only if it’s not that George W. kind of free. Hmmm, maybe birth control. I'm pissed about how much I have to pay, and that's with insurance.

Salad: Approximately how many times per day do you think about your significant other?
There certainly are some assumptions in that question, now aren’t there?

Main Course: What is something you believe in 100%?
The only thing I believe in 100% is myself. To believe in anything else seems foolish to me.

Dessert: Name one thing you have done this week that you would consider a "good deed."
Earlier today I held a door for an elderly couple, one of whom was in a wheelchair. This doesn’t really seem like a “good deed” or anything though, since it’s just common courtesy.

Pittsburgh

2006-08-11T13:33:00.000-05:00

I'm coming, FYI

Travel Dilemma

2006-08-10T21:52:00.000-05:00

To fly or not to fly.

By now I'm sure you've read about the thwarted terrorist plot out of Britain. I saw the headlines and read a couple of stories about it earlier today and didn't once think about the consequences of such a plot in domestic airports. And then tonight I remembered that I'm flying tomorrow. Now, I'm not one to be afraid of flying or anything--actually, I love it--but I've read in countless articles like this one that I can expect ridiculous delays and won't be able to bring any liquids on board. So much for my face wash, toothpaste, moisturizer, toner, shampoo and conditioner, and shaving cream. Which really, is all that matters to me; I like hygeine! Now it makes sense that Pdubs asked if I still coming in tomorrow night.

So, not be a total downer, but I sort of really don't want to travel in this. I don't want to wait in security lines for 3 hours while people lose their Neutrogena and their tempers. I left Alaska partly because I was tired of the excessive distance and hassle of constant air travel (don't get me wrong, I love to fly--to vacations). But here's what's waiting for me in Pittsburgh: my brother, who just finished library school and is about move to New Jersey, is having a graduation party Saturday afternoon. At the same time as his graduation party, the Steelers are playing their first pre season game that PW and I have been anticipating since February 5, 2006. Needless to say, I plan on being late to my brother's party.

It's not really the getting to Pittsburgh that is looking so unattractive, but the leaving on the earliest flight on Monday morning then going straight to work. I've travelled on Monday mornings before, and I know that it SUCKS because every business person in the world is travelling then. I don't know whether to check my back pack or not. Whether to even go or not. I know my mom really wants me to come, and my dad said he didn't think I should bother with hassle. The UA said I should go, but that I could be pissed about having to fly right now.

So, I just don't know what to do. I don't want to disappoint anyone, and I'd like to see my friends and family, but I've been so exhausted lately that I'm not sure I can deal with the hassle. Is that terrible? Also, the fact that I'm totally broke and possibly unable to afford my Sunday night hotel room or any general fun plays some role in this decision.

What do you think, folks?

Missed Connection

2006-08-10T11:19:00.000-05:00

I have this awful habit of reading the Missed Connections on Craigslist daily. I suppose it’s not an awful habit compared to smoking or picking scabs or drunken bike riding, but still. I guess it’s a bad habit because it feeds this idea that we are all starring in the movie of our lives at every second. In fact, because we are the stars, other people have obviously noticed us and are seeking us out: “Girl Who Reads on Train” or “Hot Guy at Starbucks”. Does this really narrow anyone down? It’s strange to think that even if someone were looking for me that I’d be able to tell. There are no “telling details” in these posts, not really. Not in the way we think of our own telling details, or in the way some of us try to write them. What would be a telling detail for me? I don’t, perhaps my wry half smile over my long black hair, or the way I exude “back off!” rather than my carrying a book. I don’t even know.

I did once find someone via Missed Connections, though. I was looking for an old friend who disappeared from my life, so I posted his name on the Columbus, OH Craigslist. He never got back to me, but another friend from high school did She too was looking for him. Eventually he did turn up on myspace, but it doesn’t look like he’s signed in since March, which is not recent enough to have received my friend request.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about missed connections a lot lately for the same reason I think about pretty much anything too much: I have a crush. More specifically, I have a crush on someone I don’t know. I’ve been noticing the Downstairs Hot Guy (DHG) for months now. I see him outside all the time. I know where he works (in my building, duh). I know what kind of cars he owns (yeah, more than one, which actually suggests girlfriend to me, but perhaps it just means wealthy or extravagant), what his dog looks like, the timber of his voice and the degree to which his hairline is receding. I could post this on Craigslist, but unless I want to be embarrassingly specific as to exactly when we’ve had our brief encounters and what was said, what street corner our building is on, and the type of business it is that I think he owns, it’s not going to fly. It won’t work because I’m too embarrassed to post something like that (I’d rather keep trying to run into him and a get a conversation started), and because if I posted something more vague, but without the right detail, he’d never find it. I can’t assume that he sees himself as the hot guy with a nice smile and a receding hairline. No, that’s all my impression.

But don’t you worry. I’ve got plans to meet this person. Some of the plans are silly, and others are painstakingly silly (though not as silly as an MC), but somehow—before the end of this summer—I will at least know his name and have had one conversation with him.

And if I don’t do it I could always post an “MC with My Sense of courage and Confidence.”

Unfinished Crown

2006-08-08T09:48:00.000-05:00

It wasn’t dark outside when the plane touched ground, nor was it dark twenty minutes later when my baggage came round the carousel, nor was it dark fifteen minutes after, when I stood outside and hailed a taxi. A streak of light glowed on the horizon. The sky was starless and translucent,as though still unsure if it were morning or night. Solstice was already two months past—even though it was one a.m., darkness had not yet returned, but I had arrived. One night I met a drunk basketball coach in a bar who informed me that people in Alaska were running away or were alcoholics, and often were both.

At twenty-five I wanted just to do something different,—my own crazy youth—so I moved to Alaska. I wanted to live there so that years later, I’d sit in a bar in some cosmopolitan city of the Lower 48, tell stories of my time in the Last Frontier, the Land of the Midnight Sun, the Great White North, impressed by my own experience. I spent a lot of time alone. I’d walk the half mile to Cheney Lake, chain smoke, stare at the geese, wonder what they were still doing so far north, wonder what I was doing up north, not impressing myself.

(Now, in case you're counting syllables and lines, I was in the middle of revising this stuff a few months ago and haven't looked at it since. Don't be surprised if it's not adding up the way it's supposed--it's not even close to finished. Also, after working on a couple of these, I found them vague and unsurprising. I wanted to be more specific, focus on a single scene. The one specific scene I have of course doesn't mix in well with any of the other stuff because it's so totally random. This is partly why I think this project kind of sucks.)

Election night we watched the polls closing. It snowed the night before, leaving the roads and sidewalk to glisten and sparkle, lit by yellow streetlights and blinking neon. I walked on his left. He held my arm while caning wordless steps from his other hand. He and I strolled from election central to a jazz bar down on Fifth Avenue, where we drank whiskey, wished for victory. I thought we made a beautiful couple. It’s true I loved the idea of us (possibly even more than I loved him): his blindness to, and occasional need for—though never specifically—me.

11.

Alaska is not the sort of place you fuck around with, not lightly, not like a fling, not like a fleeting impulse. Unless you’re me. And you’re lonely, tired of the places and the people you know already. Looking for adventure, for fiction, something to remind you that this is not all there is. So you move away to this Alaska place, this photograph reality, home of ice and snow—dreams cold enough even for you. Bearded men, big trucks, bad fashion, gun racks, and sled dogs abused in the neighbor’s back yard, couches buried under snow along the highway.

(there are more bits of this, but so unfinished and so not very good. I admit, I still have faith in this project. I keep forgetting how much of writing is forcing yourself to keep doing it and to keep reworking and making sense of your own nonsense. Didn't I teach a class on this? Didn't I tell the students to forget about it if they thought writing was easy? I used myself as an example--how I once wrote an essay in an afternoon then revised it significantly every single day for over 2 months before I decided it was solid enough to take into a workshop. Since then it's been revised a million time over again, but it was worth it; it's my favorite thing I've ever written, and I recently read it at a Guild Complex reading. Anyway, the point of this being that I haven't given up on writing, or on doing something new, but that it's taking a long fucking time to come to fruition. I think that's the point)

Coronet

2006-08-08T09:33:00.000-05:00

A long time ago my friend Gregorio told me about a coronet, or crown, of sonnets, a term I'd never heard before. I believe it is a series of sonnets--maybe 11, or 14, or 16 (all numbers that stick in my head) on a related theme. A famous example would be Corona by John Donne (miles away from ordinary...). Anyway, I came up with the idea of writing an essay that followed the coronet form--each paragraph would be a sonnet without line breaks, but if you inserted line breaks you'd find 14 lines of 10 syllables each. I was planning on writing about Alaska.

At this point, a good 2 or 3 years later, I've only written about 5 of these sonnets/paragraphs, and while they're connected, they're not connected. This idea may be dead in the water, but I'm still kind of enamoured of it. I don't know why. The UA couldn't understand why I wanted to work in such an old and restrictive form when I should be "doing something new." In case anyone out there didn't know, it is really fucking hard to do something new. I'm not saying that to complain and cop out necessarily, but by the time you've produced something new of quality, chances are someone else did it, too, and published it before you. This is what I signed up for, though--I guess--when I decided to be a writer. Anyway, I was under the impression that doing something new with an old form is doing something new. I don't know.

All this by way of introduction to just say that I'm going to post some of these paragraphs. They are randomly numbered because they're not all written. The numbers are vague representation of where I think they'll fit into a larger narrative...once it's written.

Under Appreciated, Highly Cheekboned

2006-08-06T14:52:00.000-05:00

One of the questions on last Friday's Feast was something along the lines of what actor do you feel is under appreciated. As I've decided to spend a quiet Sunday at home watching Sunday afternoon movies on network TV, I've remembered an actor I love who definitely seems to be under appreciated: Lou Diamond Phillips. You remember him, don't you? Young Guns? Stand and Deliver? The late 80's seemed like his time to shine, but I guess he wasn't generic-looking enough to achieve more fame. He's been working non-stop: lead roles in B movies, supporting roles in TV and other movies. I wonder if Hollywood was at a loss as to how to cast this intensely good-looking guy, this man who represents the future of race. (I've said it before, and I stand by it: people of mixed race are far more beautiful than other people. You don't get cheekbones like by sticking to your own race.) Anyway, as I watch Lou Diamond playing a bad biker in the movie "Lone Hero", I can't help but wish more people had embraced his Spanish, Scottish/Irish, Chinese, Filipino, Hawaiian, and Cherokee ancestry-based good looks, and intense and engaging acting style.

Friday's Feast

2006-08-04T11:40:00.000-05:00

Feast One Hundred & Five

Appetizer: Name an actor or actress you think is totally underappreciated.
Can I name several? After seeing “The Human Stain” I think Wentworth Miller’s talents go unrecognized in the ridiculous yet enjoyable show, “Prison Break.” Also, I’m a big fan of Josh Lucas. And, having just been introduced to the show Lost, I’ve got to say that Jorge Garcia’s comic timing is genius.

Soup: Impress us by using a big word in a sentence.
There are myriad reasons for me not to. Actually, I have no clue how to use that word, myriad. I mean, I know what it means, but is my original sentence correct or should it be “There are a myriad reasons for me not to…”?

Salad: What is something inanimate that you've given a name to (such as a pet rock)?
I used to name everything Billy. In 2000, I had 3 fish, a bike and a computer named Billy. Two years later I bought a car and named it Billy.

Main Course: What color would best represent your personality and why?
A man I knew once told me if I were a Crayola Crayon I’d be Copper. But he had no eyesight, so what did he know?

Dessert: Fill in the blanks: ____________ is so ____________.
The miXi is so tired

Disappointing

2006-08-03T22:22:00.000-05:00

Every once in awhile it becomes very clear to me that I am a curmudgeon and sometimes an outright asshole to other people, not unlike my father. I don't really care to go into details right now, but I'm not really friendly, or nice, and I don't really like other people. I'm sorry.

Of Fortunes and Fate

2006-08-02T12:22:00.000-05:00

I really am not someone who believes in horoscopes and fortunes. I read them for mild amusement, but nothing more. My mother believes in an eastern astrology, muddied by living in America for too long. On the western calendar I was born in the year of the Snake (wise and intense with a tendency toward physical beauty...the boar is you enemy…), though technically, from the Chinese calendar, I am a Dragon. In 2001, the Year of the Snake, my mother told me to be careful of any big life changes. I was not to disrupt my life in any way, because my sign was already in turmoil, or something like that. But in a few short months in 2001 I managed to fall in love (with a Boar, no less), quit my job, lose an apartment, watch a national tragedy unfold and the international one that followed. My mother bought me gifts of luck, like a jade necklace shaped like a snake. A few months after 2001 turned into 2002, I moved to Alaska, and no wonder.

Now it seems the ideas of fortunes and horoscopes are following me. I wrote a lyric essay about fortunes called, "Hope is the Most Insidious of All Emotions" (come on Seneca Review, I know you totally want to publish it...). My friend seems obsessed with idea of predictions, and I recently gave her my old tarot cards (a gift from a neighbor a very long time ago) because it seemed they would be more important to her. We rewrote our daily horoscopes and read them at a performance recently. This same friend plays a game called “Next Song Predicts Your Future,” where we listen to the radio and, yes, let the songs predict our futures. I was thinking about this today as I stood in our comptroller’s office waiting for some numbers to be crunched. The accountant plays the radio, and I often find myself chuckling to the thought of two numbers men sitting in a tiny office listening to “Fame.” We were trying to understand where the numbers for last year’s unrestricted net assets went, when I notice Lisa Stanfield’s “You Keep Me Hanging On” playing. I tapped my foot, imagining myself at the Beehive in Pittsburgh circa 2000, dancing my drunken heart out. Then I started thinking about the lyrics and feeling angry. While I’ve always liked the song for its 80’s danceability, in recent years I’d sort of commiserated with the song’s speaker, understandable given my relationship with the UA (aka, the Boar). In one of my essays I think I described our friendship/relationship as a “rubber band that has not yet broken.” Those Lisa Stanfield lyrics, “You don’t really love me babe, you just keep me hanging on…” always got to me. But today not so much. Today I was angry with the speaker for blaming her lover when all she had to do was walk away. The song was immediately followed by the Commodore’s “Easy,” which sent a shiver down my spine, not because I dislike the song (I like it a lot), but because it is one of the UA’s favorite songs. And of course, standing there waiting as someone fussed with the audit, I had no choice but to pay attention to the lyrics. I can’t begin to explain how embarrassing it is to start crying in the accounting office, trying to hide it and blink tears back, knowing from the heat in my cheeks that my face had turned bright red. It passed. I got my numbers. I’m back at my own desk, comfortably hidden in a corner, but not overwhelmed by emotion anymore.

My friend would say that this was Fate. That something--the universe--stepped in to tell me something. Next song predicts your future. But I don’t believe it. Those songs are just songs and the lyrics held a certain meaning to their authors, and a myriad other meanings to everyone who listens to them. That I infused the experience with this particular meaning is hardly surprising, as it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. As T-Rex told me last night, “you are really giving new meaning to the classy phrase, 'shit or get off the pot.'” It has nothing to do with Fate; it has only to do with me.

Evolving, Yes; Annoying, also yes

2006-08-01T21:46:00.000-05:00

I found this article today about the Affect, the way many young women speak these days. While I understand that language is a living and evolving thing, I can't stop myself from being annoyed by this particular dialect. The lengthy vowel sounds, the dropped consonants at the ends of words, and most irritating of all, the upspeak.

In This Heat

2006-08-01T19:35:00.000-05:00

all i want is beer for dinner

What I'm reading:

2006-08-01T12:08:00.000-05:00

V. by Thomas Pynchon
I started reading this before I went on vacation, and it was my train reading in the morning (in the evening I tend to nod off on the train). But lately I’ve been driving to work, so I haven’t made a lot of progress in the last couple of weeks. I’m enjoying it a lot, although I think I still like “The Crying of Lot 49” better at this point. I hear Pynchon has a new book coming out, too. I’m excited to pick it up.

“Dancing in the Dark” by Ryan Knighton, on Salon.com
This article really hit me, for reasons clear to many of you readers, I’m sure. I even posted a letter in response to it. I’m such a sucker. Anyway, if you don’t have a Salon.com subscription, you can always click on the Site Pass, watch an ad, then read the content for free.

Middlesex by Jeffery Eugenides
I’ve sort of stalled out on this one. I got about halfway through and found myself bored with the plot and uninterested in the characters. I’ll probably push myself through it, though, because I still have hope.

“Mel Gibson’s Meltdown” by Christopher Hitchens, Slate.com
Mel is insane.

X-Files (or, do I watch too much TV?)

2006-07-31T13:06:00.000-05:00

I’ve recently added the X-Files season 1 to my Netflix queue. I didn’t have a TV capable of reception until I went to college, in 1995, so I got into the X-Files in its 3rd season. I then taped the 4th and 5th seasons, which I still have in a box somewhere. I watched, but didn’t tape, the 5th and 6th seasons, then I just sort of lost it, interest, that is. Actually, I think I started going out to bars a lot at that time. I’m not sure. Anyway, by it’s final seasons I would catch it occasionally but I never could regain my initial excitement for the show (although there was a season 9 episode guest starring Burt Reynolds with music by Karl Zero that cracked my shit up). I hear this happened to a lot of people.

Anyway, through reruns I’ve probably now seen all of the first two seasons, but I really wanted to watch the entire series in order. This will take a while, I know, but I feel it will be worth it in the end. For whatever reason. Having just finished the first DVD of season 1, I’ve made the following observations:

1) The hinted at governmental conspiracy is far more interesting in this post 9/11, post-Iraq War world. When Mulder finds out his phone is being tapped in “Deep Throat” and tells Scully about it, she’s completely shocked and horrified. But now, having been through how many renewals of the Patriot Act, when we find out the feds have been conducting unlawful wiretaps we get upset, but aren’t surprised, as though we assumed they were doing it all along but only now found proof. What a different world 1993 was (I wouldn’t know, so hopped up on Crystal Pepsi and Mini Thins back then).

2) Along those same lines, and in the same episode, Scully tells Mulder that the government has a right to protect its secrets that in turn protect the people. Mulder counters by asking about the human factor, something along the lines of how many human lives is a secret worth. A lot, Mulder, a lot.

3) Man, those federal agencies sure hate working together. Good thing we now have the Department of Homeland Security to make sure everyone is on the same…oh nevermind.

4) Scully’s hair changed a lot in the first 4 episodes. It still took them a couple of years to realize the full potential of her hotness. Man, I tried so hard to have red hair and be like her, but it just didn’t work. This has nothing to do with the post-9/11 and post-Iraq War world. I’m just saying, I look nothing like Scully (but T-Rex does).

Anyway, I’m excited to continue watching the X-Files, paying attention to my reaction to things like a secret government cabal. Stay tuned for more (non) insights!

Friday's Feast!

2006-07-28T11:18:00.000-05:00

Feast One-Hundred & Four

Appetizer: What's the funniest dream you can remember having?
Well, I have a lot of funny dreams, but the funniest one recent memory is the one I wrote about a couple of days ago, about the magic 8-ball and Scotch-brand tape.

Soup: If you were a dog, what breed would you be, and why?
Eh. I don’t know. Maybe an Akita? You know, really loyal and not very friendly?

Salad: Continue this sentence: "I get confused when..."
I get confused when I have this weird pain in my stomach that makes no sense and later realize it’s hunger (it’s still an hour till lunch, which I didn’t bring today, and I forgot to eat dinner last night).

Main Course: Name two things that need to be done, but you are procrastinating in completing.
Number one: the grant proposal I’m working on for a half million dollar project. It’s due at 2:00 today. That’s pretty much it, all I need to be doing right now…

Dessert: When was the last time you tried something new, and what was it?
Oh I don’t know. I’m pretty routine. I tried watching Dr. Who, which I’d never seen before. That went well. I recently bought my first air conditioner and installed it, that also went well. Oh, I know! I worked on my first federal grant proposal this month. That was hell!

Hair!

2006-07-27T15:11:00.000-05:00

I’m one of those lucky people (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) whose hair grows really fast. I know that most people don’t believe me when I say that no, my hair really does grow extremely fast, but it’s true. For example, in May 2005 I had my hair cut to chin length, one of my favorite lengths. By August I had that weird medium length hair that almost but not quite but still kind of makes a ponytail. A little spiky ponytail, but ponytail nonetheless. In April, I had my first haircut in 11 months. The stylist trimmed off up to 3 inches in some places. And now I’m in need of a trim again because I think I’m getting more split ends. My hair is down between my shoulder blades. Since I was 14 I’ve had the same cycle with my hair: grow it long, to the middle of my back, then cut it all off and keep it short for two years, then grow it long again. I’ve done this every couple of years for 15 years now.

I have very straight, very smooth hair. I get the shiny smoothness from my Japanese mother and fineness (or limpness, depending on how you look at it) from my blonde-haired, American dad. I also dye my hair black about 3 times a year. I’ve been switching between Dove, L’Oreal, Aveda, and John Frieda in the last couple of years, but I haven’t settled on anything that I really love. And then I went away for Mazza’s wedding. I bought two little travel-sized bottles of Pantene shampoo and conditioner, and OH MY GOD my hair felt like Heaven the whole time. I hadn’t used Pantene products since I was in high school and my friend Bruce told me Pantene was made of cat guts, but I remember loving it and the way it made my hair feel. I used both bottles fully while on vacation, so I’ve been using my regular products since then. Because I recently dyed my hair again, my hair feels brittle and hard, not silky like it used to be. I’m thinking of buying Pantene to return it to silkiness.

I’ve read up on this. I know that for many people, the mere mention of Pantene sends the adrenaline pumping and red flags waving, but I’ve also read that the hype doesn’t really add up to much. All I know is that in years when I used that product, my hair was at its peak—long and luxurious. I know I’ve inflicted a lot of damage since then, but I’m willing to try good ol’ Pantene again, cat guts or not. I mean, if it does end up sucking after a full bottle, I can always buy something else.

Best Show Eva!

2006-07-27T12:25:00.000-05:00

Recently T-Rex informed me that our friendship could be in jeopardy lest I rent me some Dr. Who and catch up with her. Because it airs on the Sci-Fi channel and I only have the cable service that lets the networks come in clearly, I never had a chance to see it. I’ve certainly been intrigued, especially when T-Rex told me about an episode with Charles Dickens and zombies.

Well, I’m hooked. I rented the first disc of season 1, and I’m absolutely totally hooked. This show is SO weird! I love it! I suppose it certainly helps that I find Christopher Eccleston extremely attractive. I remember when Tina and I were in Seward for the Mt. Marathon race one Fourth of July, and we ended drinking at a bar with some guy named Nick. At some point in the evening, Tina described my ideal man to him as “a well-dressed Scottish soccer hooligan.” Little did I know that my ideal man was actually a well-dressed, time-traveling, mannequin-fighting British alien!

Who's a Fiscal Moron? (I am)

2006-07-25T21:39:00.000-05:00

Please understand that a good deal of my job is fiscal management. I understand numbers. I understand budgets. I know what happens when your revenue stream dries up but your expenses increase. I know how to fix things, move numbers around so they make sense. I know when a budget is bogus and when it can work. I'm great with other people's money.

But oh God am I a terrible fiscal manager for myself. I don't know why I can't do it. I've always been terrible, beginning way back when I was 8 years old and I would run up fees from the library from not returning my books. My birthday money ($10 folks, nothing special) usually was saved until summer vacation, when I had to pay off my library fines before I was allowed to take out more books. Then, when I was older, I got into trouble with the BMG and Columbia House music clubs. I just didn't pay the bills, and for no real reason. Now I'm an adult and on my own, supposedly in control of my finances. In control. Ha. I know that I'm behind for a number of reasons--that moving 4500 miles a year ago and not having a job for 6 months ate up my entire savings and ran up some credit card debt.

So I've finally just took my working knowledge of budgets and Excel and applied it to myself. No the fuck wonder I'm always in the red! Granted, this month has been especially expensive, what with buying a new bed, a plane ticket to Pittsburgh, and an air conditioner and all, but I mean, why did I need a new bed right now? (because my back was killing me, is the answer, but still) When I calculated my miscellaneous expenses, I learned that I've spent 26% of my monthly salary income on eating out. That's just stupid. That's laziness--not going to the grocery store. And not only is this keeping me from good savings (imagine if I were SAVING 26% of my monthly salary income), it's keeping me from losing the weight I'd like to lose. Or it's keeping me at this annoying plateau. It's bad for my cholesterol and my skin.

Anyway, I've created a wonderful spreadsheet that will help me keep track of every bill I'm paying and every miscellaneous expense. I think awareness was a huge first step for me--I knew I was spending too much, but I was afraid to stop and add it up. Here's to a new phase in my personal money management!

(side note: I just saw a trailer for the new 9/11 movie starring Nicholas Cage. I can't believe I'd ever find him ugly, but apparently there's no one a cop uniform and mustache can't ruin.)

Please Interpret

2006-07-25T08:48:00.000-05:00

SoI was trying to think of a good nickname for a particular friend of mine, for whom I have particular feelings, and all I could think of was ET making some crack about his being an unemployed alcoholic (this was an exaggeration), so "UA" is it for him.

Anyway, I had a dream the other night where I was back at my parents' house. They were on vacation so I was there alone. I noticed they had bought a Magic 8-Ball soap dispenser for the bathroom. I picked it up and shook it and asked, "Does UA love me?" The blue triangle of fate floated around and finally revealed this answer: "Buy Scotch Brand tape." I tried it again: "Does UA love me?" And once again the Magic 8-Ball told me to buy Scotch tape. I looked more closely at the Magic 8-Ball and realized it was manufactured by Scotch, and that it was obviously a promotional item.

Please feel free to interpret this dream.